An empty bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade rattled against the bars to Mr. Bear’s prison cell. The deceptively cuddly brown bear awoke with a start and with winced eyes steadily advanced towards the click click click clack of the bottle. Once within arms’ reach he reached out to grab the bottle but as his claw brushed against the dusty glass, a white hand slunk out from the shadows and ran its arched fingers through his blood matted finger.
The hand was cold but quickly warmed up in his grasp.
“Um,” Mr. Bear sniveled. “Hi Mysterious Figure. I’m Mr. Bear and I’m so happy that I have decided to retire as King of the Forest and — ”
“Can it Bear,” the figure rasped. “I’m springin’ ya from the slammer.”
Mr. Bear arched an eyebrow and threw his monstrous paws to his girlish hips. “Why I was intending on getting out on good behavior! I don’t know if I like you very much stranger.”
“Fuck off Bear, it took me a dog’s age to get down here.”
The figure shimmied into the moonlight and let go of Mr. Bear’s paw as soon as her eyes met his. Her summer dress was ragged, blond hair tied back in a messy knot, the strands lopsided along her round cheekbones, and her blue eyes were almost too wide to be mortal. A smile twitched at the corner of her white whips before she dropped a knee and pulled a saw from her backpack. Continue reading