Action!
Ever try to run with stitches in you? — And no, it’s not a real scream. Only people who’ve never get a knife in the side think that joke’s a knee-slapper.
So, yeah, it hurt; worse, it felt like a strain. But I didn’t need to go far, and when I got there, I decided not to stop. Which is a nice way of saying that I barreled into one of the guys leading Sofie away, and bounced him off of a wall. I didn’t hit the wall myself, so I totally meant to do that, yeah. I also totally meant to hit the other guy in the face without putting on my brass knuckles, too. Luckily I hit him in a softish spot, so I didn’t totally wreck my hand.
But it didn’t knock him down, either. He gave me a nasty smile and flicked out a knife. “You hit like a…” well. I don’t know what the word was, since his Spanglish was really Spanish, and from deep in the sticks at that. But I’m guessing it wasn’t polite.
“Yeah, this is where I came in,” I muttered as I did a spin kick and knocked the knife out of his hand. And that really hurt, because I had forgotten the damned stitches again! But they were real eager to remind that they were there. And unhappy as hell, too.
I would pay good money for more Tom Vargas stories. I just need to pay off my imminent creditors and get more permanent housing. Which means more creditors. Le sigh.
.
Adulting is the worst.