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Sausages

Rafe

Fuck.

I was getting mugged, wasn’t I?

At gunpoint.

This was bad.

I was frozen in place, still clutching my grocery bags with no idea what to do. I’d never been mugged before. I was scared, obviously, but also really fucking pissed off.

When I didn’t move, the person jabbed me in the spine again with their gun. “I said put ’em up, pisshead!”

“Put what up?” I snapped in panic, knowing deep down that I probably shouldn’t start arguing with the person holding me at gunpoint, but doing it anyway. “I’m holding groceries!”

“Drop ’em,” they growled. It sounded like someone trying to make their voice much deeper and more threatening than it really was.

I gritted my teeth. “So do you want me to drop them or put them up—”

“I said drop ’em!” They prodded me again with the gun.

A flash of fear streaked through me. Silently cursing them out, I dropped the bags and watched an orange roll out and under my car.

Asshole. I’d wanted that orange.

Suddenly, gloved hands were grabbing my wrists and pinning my arms behind my back, before I was spun around and forced to walk into the alley. Whoever they were, they were strong, pinning both my wrists together with one hand. I foolishly struggled against their grip even though they were still holding the gun to my back.

The alleyway was dark and reeked of garbage thanks to the overflowing dumpster down here. I wrinkled my nose, quickly scanning the alley to try and see if there were any other muggers waiting. If it was just the one, there was a chance I’d be able to get away. My car was already unlocked, and I was a quick runner. If I was fast enough, I might be able to dive into it and lock the doors. But if there were more, I’d probably be in trouble.

The alley looked empty, and I still couldn’t see the person pinning my wrists together. They stayed behind me, even as they let go and jabbed me once again with the gun to keep me compliant.

“Put ’em up.”

Before I could stop it, I was huffing in exasperation. “Are you—”

“I said put those sausages up, turd!”

A hint of recognition pinged in my brain as I asked, “Sausages? What?”

“All ten of ’em! Both hands! Now!”

Suddenly, it clicked, and I felt like an idiot for taking so long to realise.

With a sigh, I woodenly asked, “Frank, is that you?”

“What?” Frank squawked. “No, I’m not—How did you know—That’s not me! Shut up!”

I sighed again and shook my head. “Frank, what are you doi—”

A rabid shriek cut me off, and I whipped my head to the side in time to see a small figure dressed all in black taking a running leap off the dumpster and flying through the air. Directly toward me.

I instinctively jerked out of the way, but I wasn’t quick enough. Beans—at least I was assuming it was Beans—had clearly, for some horrifying reason, been aiming for my face, because he crashed into the side of my head and his elbow nailed me in the eye.

“Fuck!” I barked furiously, stumbling as he landed in a heap on the ground with a little grunt. I cupped a hand over my eye and whirled around to glare at them. “You dick! That fucking hurt!”

“Pain is the name of the game, man!” Beans said as he hurriedly leaped to his feet.