Optimistic as always, Guanjun, on his glossy new silver bicycle, rode towards a nearby estate and cheerily hurled a cardboard box, disguised haphazardly as one of Amazon, onto their porch. A wrinkled hand - they always seemed to be creased and wrinkled - presumably from the extreme amount of drugs they took constantly that they were forced to have bought them from the black market; stretched out, wriggled onto the cracked, dusty porch uncared for until the long, sharp fingers found their target, the box, and pulled it in swiftly without hesitation. Guanjun stared at the door, slammed closed in his face, for a minute or two, wondering in awe what people were doing behind it, party music playing in the previous house, strange quiet in this one.
A police car pulled up behind Guanjun, and for a second he thought he might have landed in hot water, ready to make his getaway, but the police car cruised away.
Guanjun watched it all from the grimy window of the house before him, and frowned as he observed the reflection of the police car driving away.
The officer stationed inside was looking at him with a weird, disgusted look contorted on his harsh expression, blabbing heaven-knows-what into his police radio.
"Freeze!"
Guanjun glared at the reflection in the house's dirty window, but didn't budge an inch. He instead shifted his hand towards the gun in his holster.
But he didn't have one.
He cursed under his breath. He knew he shouldn't have assumed that his life would replicate whatever was written in the faux fanfiction authored by his friends when he was twelve.
What a daft idea.
The handcuffs clicked, and he was shoved into the police car. The last thing he heard was the door slam beside him. He tussled for a while, struggling to make his hurried escape, but it was easier said than done with his arms rendered useless and his mind drugged and dazed.
"Drugs ain't funny," snapped the officer, who had been tensely silent all this while, in the driver's seat, as the car whizzed along the highway. "You know on how many accounts you have been accused of?"
"How many?" repeated Guanjun drowsily.
"Hold on a sec." The police officer cleared his throat, and flipped to a page in his notebook. "Five hundred and thirty-seven. Of drug trafficking, drug distribution, partaking in the black market, partaking in illegal substances, child trafficking, non-ritualistic cannibalism, kidnapping, harassment, and the list goes on." He folded up the notebook, swept his wrist across his tufty, frizzy moustache with his burly, hairy hand, and turned back to the road, the car speeding across a cul-de-sac, his hands flying across the wheel impressively.
"I bet you still think it's a joke, huh?" He spoke up again, after a couple of minutes; the station was a distance away.
Guanjun, for once in his lifetime, kept quiet strategically. (bro) ('strategically' bro doesn't even know he has a brain) (exactly) (lol)
"Don't worry. You don't have to answer," the police officer said, and chortled. "They all think it's a joke at first, until they see the gallows."
"I'm gonna die?" Guanjun finally spoke, and although he thought his voice was controlled, his tone was wavering, tremendously packed with panic. "I thought that was made illegal in Singapore years back."
The police officer guffawed. This went on for quite a while.
"Who said we're jailing you in Singapore?"
"Damn it."
End of Chapter 24: Consequences
YOU ARE READING
The Stupidity Rewritten
FanfictionThe interjections and notes you can just ignore im just too lazy to delete them The names in brackets after the chapter name is the ppl who wrote them, you may not know the ppl so just ignore it, again, im just too lazy to delete them Another K-dram...
