Gurl PowR!
"Of course I am, now that YOU'RE here! Let's ride away into the sunset!"
Oh my God, you actually just said that. Your head feels a little spinny as you gaze into Officer Cutiepants' eyes. His brow furrows with a look of concern.
"Did you hit your head, Miss?"
The green of his eyes is almost blinding. You blink dazedly, reaching your hands out towards him, wanting nothing more than to kiss those stern, masculine lips.
"Civilian down! Possible trauma!" Cutiepants shouts into his walkie talkie.
You attempt to quiet your stampeding heart by placing your hand over it, only to draw back in horror as you feel the slimy substance smeared all over your shirt. Bringing it level to your eyes, you see a sickening mixture of brains and blood dripping from your hand. Glancing sideways, you see the robber lying on the ground, his head cracked open like an eggshell, spilling its contents onto the pavement.
The blaring siren of an ambulance fills the air with increasing intensity as you look down at yourself and find that most of the contents of the robber's head are in fact splashed all over your beautiful blouse, your sexy skirt, even your give-me-a-promotion pumps, off of which a little piece of brain falls with a quaint plop.
Officer Cutiepants covers your mouth with one big manly hand as you let out a blood-curdling scream. As he removes his hand, you see his golden wedding band shimmer in the sunlight.
This is too much. You swoon in Cutiepants' arms. Too bad you're not conscious enough to experience the thrill.
Oh my God, you actually just said that. Your head feels a little spinny as you gaze into Officer Cutiepants' eyes. His brow furrows with a look of concern.
"Did you hit your head, Miss?"
The green of his eyes is almost blinding. You blink dazedly, reaching your hands out towards him, wanting nothing more than to kiss those stern, masculine lips.
"Civilian down! Possible trauma!" Cutiepants shouts into his walkie talkie.
You attempt to quiet your stampeding heart by placing your hand over it, only to draw back in horror as you feel the slimy substance smeared all over your shirt. Bringing it level to your eyes, you see a sickening mixture of brains and blood dripping from your hand. Glancing sideways, you see the robber lying on the ground, his head cracked open like an eggshell, spilling its contents onto the pavement.
The blaring siren of an ambulance fills the air with increasing intensity as you look down at yourself and find that most of the contents of the robber's head are in fact splashed all over your beautiful blouse, your sexy skirt, even your give-me-a-promotion pumps, off of which a little piece of brain falls with a quaint plop.
Officer Cutiepants covers your mouth with one big manly hand as you let out a blood-curdling scream. As he removes his hand, you see his golden wedding band shimmer in the sunlight.
This is too much. You swoon in Cutiepants' arms. Too bad you're not conscious enough to experience the thrill.
