He reached into his coat pocket and grasped the handle of his laser, although he didn’t draw it yet.

Effie began her act by glancing in her visor mirror. “Oh my, look at me. I need to freshen up my lipstick.” She reached for the glove box with a trembling hand.

Arrin tightened his grip on his laser preparing for the inevitable confrontation. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced to hurt these people. Although he would if it became necessary.

Effie yanked an oversized antique silver gun from the glove box, turned around, and aimed it unsteadily at Arrin. “Don’t try anything. We know who you are, and we’re going to turn you in,” she squeaked.

The scenario was so ludicrous Arrin released his grip on his laser and burst into laughter.

Eff...

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