From Disorganized Crime

“Who the hell are you?” Nelson asks, he heard his attacker’s heart pounding, felt the knife move as the man swallowed.

                “Take it easy buddy, am just doing my job,” the man said his voice a horse whisper. Nelson pressed the knife against the man’s throat; felt the man’s his esophagus move against the steel blade again. There was a wine bottle sitting on the only table left standing in the room, Nelson picked it up and hit the man over the head , he fell sideways onto the couch, the cell phone still in his hand, Nelson picked it up,

                “Who is this?” He asked, his voice still a whisper, his throat burned when he swallowed,

                “Who the hell is this?” The voice responded. Nelson cleared his throat.                 “It’s the man you just tried to have killed.” Nelson tried to shout, but only managed to sound like he had laryngitis,

                “I don’t know you, what the hell is your name and where is my man?” The voice screamed back,

                “Oh he is fine, just taking a little nap, who are you working for, did the commander hire you?” Nelson demanded,

                “What the fuck are you talking about, all I know is you are one dead monkey when I get hold of you!” the voice screamed.

                “You don’t have to tell me anything, your man will give me the details, I will find out who you are, and when I do you will wish you never met me.”

                “Who the hell do you think you are, you don’t threaten me you little fuck, I could have your balls served to the pigeons in the park, do you know who I am?” The voice screamed. Nelson chuckled then said,

                “No I don’t know who you are, why don’t you tell me,” He waited.

“My name is ….. Do you think am an idiot, screw you,” the voice screamed. Nelson dropped the phone and turned to his attacker, the man stirred a little, his green shirt bright against the black leather couch, his dark stone washed jeans spotted with blood, his eyelids fluttered a little, his facial expression that of a baby who just woke  up from a nap. The voice on the phone was screaming so Nelson reached down, picked up the phone and turned it off. He went to his closet and retrieved a handcuff; thank god his last roommate was a kinky bastard. He returned to the living room and a pair of handcuffs the attacker to the large mahogany center table. The man’s sandy blond hair was caked to his forehead, as a mixture of sweat and blood rolled down his head, and settled just above his eyes.

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