Finder's Keepers
“Hey, look!” Angela
reached under the hedge and extracted a plastic bag with something
round and head-shaped inside.
Chloe thought about how
well her week was going. “It's probably a severed head.” She
thought about the television program she'd fallen asleep in front of
last night. “A zombie head. Still alive and desperate for brains.”
“It'll be shit out of
luck with Angie, then.” Fiona Cunningham laughed uproariously and
punched Chloe on her arm.
Angela scowled. “Knob
off, Cuntingham.”
Chloe rubbed her arm.
“You'll be witty one day, Fee. You're half way there already.”
“This is so cool.”
Angela sorted through the contents. “It must have belonged to a
special forces copper, look. There's a gas mask and a pair of
handcuffs.” She pulled them out and looked again. “And a collar
and lead.”
Fiona nudged Chloe and
winked. “Must be a Special Police dog handler. Is there anything
else in there?”
“A tear gas
cannister.” Angela squinted at the label. “Aqua glide.”
Chloe laid her hand on
her friend's arm. “I don't think that belonged to a copper, Ange.
That's lube.”
“Lube?”
“You know. For making
things slippery?” Fiona demonstrated a few pelvic thrusts.
The change in Angela's
expression from excited to horrified couldn't have been faked. She
thrust the bag at Chloe. “Take it away.”
“Could be useful.”
Fiona intercepted the bag. “There are a lot of people into this
sort of thing.”
“How would you know?”
She thrust an arm over
each of their shoulders, the plastic bag banging against Chloe's
jacket. “Let me tell you about it.”
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