"HEY! RYAN, GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME! I CAN WALK BY MYSELF, THANK YOU VERY MUCH," I yelled at him while shoving him away.

His tag read "Martin." Either his mom was too annoyed by him and wouldn't give him a last name or he forgot to write it, because the name was missing. I didn't want to know his last name, either. He's the stupid guy with the "old wrinkly hands" or whatever Lysander said. At least he's less of an idiot than Marcus or whatever is.

I looked out the window, wondering why I was in a police car. I didn't want to ask Martin. He didn't seem all that friendly, with his old wrinkly hands.

Did they make a new law that citizens weren't allowed to buy Goldfish and Cheeze-its? One I've never heard of, apparently. A store that was a perfectly fine place made to sell stuff. Pointless laws? I see, I see.

I actually hoped the idiot got out alive. And not end up on death row for whatever he did. Even if he's a stupid guy- he deserves a life, you know? He got me out of my loneliness (sorry, Arianna).

I'm sure you guys want to know why I'm not worried about Lysander being a criminal.

I'm not worried because I'm pretty sure the idiot couldn't even pull off taking my pencil when I wasn't looking. Sorry, Lysander, but it's the truth. The sad, sad truth, I mean.

"So... how are you doing today?" Martin asked.

"Aren't you supposed to not talk in the car?" I asked.

"It's texting." He said, and he was getting annoyed. I simply wanted to test his patience. And make him explode. It'll be a bonus if he gets fired. Being a policeman ain't a small job.

"...Whatever. But if you crash into a pole or a tree (I'd prefer a tree), just remember there's actually a human being in the backseat. And you'll probably face the wrath of my parents. And their parents' friends' grandsons' daughters' aunt's nephew's stuffed animal named Pillow. If you're lucky, everyone in between as well." I smiled.

"But there aren't any trees or poles on the way there." He said, pretending to be stupid. Oh, wait. He doesn't have to pretend. He is stupid.

"Do we live in a desert or something? Of course there are trees!" I said.

He put on an innocent face. "Oh, really? I didn't know that. But there aren't any poles." He said.

"Of course there are poles! We don't live in the darkest city in the world. And where do you think your wifi comes from? Do you actually think we lived in a desert? If so, you should consider going back to kindergarten. Your teacher would be so disappointed in you." I roasted him. I think I did a good job.

He gritted a smile. "I'm sorry, miss. So, let me ask you one more time, how are you today?"

So he's not giving up. What's fueling him? The evil dark poop inside him instead of a heart? Maybe he's possessed. At least I can die knowing I met someone possessed. Even though they'd probably kill me by crashing into a stupid tree or pole, thinking it was the police station's parking lot.

He's saying it like my life depends on this question. Is it that important? Why do I have to respond to it? Ugh, maybe I'll regret being nice. I always did before...

"Do you want the truth or not?" I asked, bored.

"Of course." He said in a tune I didn't want to describe. Flirt? Eww. No.

If I was the one driving him, I would've crashed into a tree a long time ago.

"Truth? Oh, you asked for it. You've ruined it now that I've seen your face today." I snapped. Hah. In your face. It's the truth.

He kept on smiling and parked in a small garage at the back of the station.

"We're here," he said in a sing-songy voice.

YES! I DID IT! I MADE IT TO THE POLICE STATION WITHOUT KILLING ANYBODY AND SURVIVING WITH A MANIACAL POLICEMAN DRIVING THE CAR! IT'S A WIN WIN! YAY!

Okay. I'm done yelling here. Now it's time to go into the police's office.

And see what really was in store for me inside the building in front of me.
____________

As I walked into the police's office, I was to busy finding ways to roast Martin.

And thinking about how bad I was going to get grounded. Hey, you have to think about comebacks! I'm not going to get grounded for something I didn't do. It's just not happening.

I was led to a small conference room. Being alone with Martin? I'd rather eat glass for a month. But I'm not going to do it yet. I just can't wait for a policeman to kick the door down and beat up Martin. Yep, my hate for him is real. Just noticed?

A policeman walked in (Not kicking the door down, sadly, but I wasn't even sure the guy could beat up a baby. I know I can't. They're too cute.) with the handcuff-less Lysander. At least he's not yelling at the police officer anymore.

"Sit down," The policeman that was not Martin told Lysander.

"Well, do I have a choice?" He muttered. At least he earned some sarcasm in his three hours of jail. Maybe he should've stayed to learn more. Maybe I should just run away from here and go home. I have a life, if you didn't know.

"I need proof." The policeman said. Oh wow. I'm confusing myself. I have no idea which policeman I'm talking about at this point. What joy this brings me.

"Proof of...?" Lysander asked. I am 1000% sure he knows what proof the guy meant. Yeah, he's buying time. Not that it costed any money or anything. Why buy time? I'm not sure, but it seems to be working. The man was silent.

"Proof of you shouldn't belong in jail, because all of our proof leads you to being stuck in a jail cell."

"Oh. Wow. I didn't know you even have proof. So. Where's your proof?" Lysander asked, "Because if you don't, then I'm outta here. I need to get my Cheeze-," he coughs, "-allergy prescriptions from the s- pharmacy. Yes, that's what I need to do."

Martin looked at the older policeman. "You know, he's got a point. We really don't got proof..." I don't think he was aware that we were right there and we could hear him. I also don't think he knew that he wasn't speaking the way policemen were supposed to speak. I mean, which policeman uses slang? One I've never heard of. Well, now the psychotic Martin. Yay.

"Spooner, you can leave. But you're walking on thin ice." The older policeman said, waiting for us to leave.

We stood up and left, not talking to one another.

There was no car for us.

Well, I guess we'll have to walk home.
__________

You're welcome for no cliffhanger. *smiles* I had no idea how to end the chapter.

I think I know the cure for the very dangerous disease called Writers Block.

Leaving a cliffhanger. It can literally give you something to write, and continue on and on until you finish the book. Well, I hope this is helpful.

I am very proud to say that the next chapter will be told in LYSANDER'S POV. Yay!

Somerandomhuman88's Tip #2

The most effective way to teach your kids about tax is taking thirty percent of their ice cream.

This should be pretty helpful.

Anyway I posted an announcement on my page telling people to read my authors note (this)... I kinda wanted to see which of my followers paid attention to my announcements.

Since I've recently hit 450 followers, I'll talk to one of you guys with my REAL voice. And I'm picking a couple people.

Comment here —> if you wanna talk.

Even if you don't, just pop in and say hello or something.

Thank you for dealing with me through this chapter!

How was this chapter?

Dedicated to @-butterfliesarise-

Have a great day you guys and let me know if you liked this chapter *smiley face because the literal colon and parentheses in this font is just creepy*

Somerandomhuman88