If you think that women are the weaker sex, try pulling the blankets back to your side
Stuart Turner
Can, Can
The gun resting on the end of my nose wavers as the jarring sound of The Can, Can, blasts out.
‘Switch that damned thing off,’ growls the gunman.’
‘But, you told me not to move.’
‘Just switch the bloody thing off!’
I reach into my pocket, careful not to make any sudden move; wrong pocket, the gun jerks. I plead with my eyes and delved into the other one, groping, fumbling, feeling. And all the while, hard black eyes drill into mine.
I find the button; Christ it won’t switch off, it’s bloody locked. With trembling hand, I draw the phone from my pocket, stab at the buttons and knock it to the floor; I bend to pick it up and a voice beyond the gunman snarls. ‘Cut! Let’s run that scene again.’
