#hellscop

“Hey this meat is completely legal!”

She growled and bucked, thrashing her legs wildly like a caged beast. The cold steel of the cuffs chafed into her wrists. The skin was stained a bright red, flecks of blood pooled to drip down the metal. Baring her razor sharp fangs, she glared with the frigid indifference of a crocodile staring down an unsuspecting gazelle. She ground her teeth. The uneven bangs perpetually draped across her left eye were disheveled. Spittle burst off her tongue as she shouted from the bottom of her lungs. Her English was thickly accented.

“You fuck! That ingredient is perfectly fine! I can bring it wherever I want. Put my puffer fish down right now! That thing costs more than your entire salary!”

“Sir, what seems to be the problem?”

Slowly the tinted glass of her car window lowered with a quiet ‘vrnnn’. From beyond the veil, her piercing gaze shot daggers of curiosity. Her question came softly like a gentle rain and oozed with a touch of innocence. The sharp, crisp white of her angular shirt lapels matched against the sleek backdrop of her 1987 Porsche 959. A cocktail of incense, floral perfume, and fresh detergent wafted off her leather seats. She rested her elbow against the door and poked out her head. Her eyes widened, her jaw lightly hanging as she scanned him up and down. Her brows shot up. A rough, patch worked English slipped off her tongue in exclamation. 

“Ah! Yu ahre an Amerikan!”