“I’m pretty sure I can’t do it in three seconds, but I’ll try my best.”
He swings the stick, hitting each glass one at a time and sending them flying.
“Was I too slow?”
“You were sexy, and that was all that mattered.”
“Thank you. I’m glad I’m being rated on sexiness instead of speed,” he says.
“Dave’s thrilled by how sexy you are too.”
Jackson laughs as he quickly hangs up Dave. “I’m going for the bat now.”
“Bold choice.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going for the crowbar, then,” I say as I eye the old printer. “Let’s tag-team it. First you, then me. Got it?”
“Sure do,” he replies as he flips his visor back down and eyes his prey.
After he takes his turn, I smash down and Jackson comes in right after me. “I feel like we’re in that scene fromShaun ofthe Dead. Ooh, we should simulate a zombie apocalypse where Tavish is a zombie.”
“Why’s everything happen to Tavish?” Jackson asks as he sends a chunk of the printer flying.
“It’s just the sad way life rolls.”
“Life? Or you?”
“I am life,” I declare.
He grins, clearly agreeing with that. “The funny thing is that I think you and Tavish actually have a lot in common. You two sure know how to get enjoyment out of the same things.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Sure, sure,” he says.
When we’ve obliterated the printer, we’re left standing over it and looking down at its remains, pleased with our abilities.
“I’m rather impressed,” Jackson comments. “So many pieces.”
“I think we’re really good at this. This could be a second job for us if our first one doesn’t pan out,” I say.
“I’m sorry… how do we make this a job?”
“We strip you and then charge people to watch you beat things with Dave.”
“Who would pay to see any of that?”
“More than you’d know,” I mutter while I hang my crowbar back up and grab the racket again. “I’d be your number one fan, of course.”
“These plates look fun,” Jackson says after we head over to look at what else we have to destroy. As I’m picking up a plate and questioning whether I’d get yelled at for flinging it at him like a Frisbee so he could smash it with the baseball bat, the door opens, almost as if the employee can read my mind. I assume they’re here to check on us, since there’s no way our forty-five minutes are up.
That’s until I see the way the man reaches for his hip.
I fling the plate so hard it smashes into his hand and he drops the gun. It skids out into the hallway as he howls and another man charges in.
I grab for my gun before I realize that I can’tgetto it with these stupid fucking coveralls on!
