Short Story Compilation

No Internet In Disney Jail

So this story is what we call a "column story", where the entire class brainstorms ideas for a protagonist, an antagonist, a setting, a conflict, and then we had a common element (something that everyone has to include in their story), and then you get to pick one thing from each category and turn it into a story.
Enjoy :D
It's only once in awhile that a murderer with asthma and a musician with a lot of melodrama end up in jail together, especially in Disneyland. The asthmatic murderer was in jail for chasing a man down the street with a knife, and he was caught when he had to stop running because of an asthma attack. The musician ended up in jail because someone didn't tip him after he finished his song and he got mad and hit them.
All of a sudden, there was a noise that sounded like a crash. "What was that?" the asthmatic murderer asked.
"I tripped over that wire," the musician said.
"Nice going-" Suddenly the murderer couldn't breathe, as he was having an asthma attack. The musician started freaking out.
"Oh my god, what do I do?!" he screamed. A guard heard the screams from the office she was working in.
"What happened?" she came running in.
"He was in the middle of saying something and then suddenly he couldn't breathe. I think he's having an asthma attack, and I don't know what to do."
"Alright, sir, calm down. Everything will be alright," she coaxed him. After the musician was mostly calm, the guard tried to get on the computer to get to first aid. "What? Why won't the internet work?" She looked over and saw the wire unhooked. "What did you guys do to the internet?"
"I tripped over the wire," the musician sighed.
"Watch where you're going! Now we'll have to rush him to first aid." She pointed to the murderer. The guard opened up the murderer's cell, and kneeled down next to him. "You're alright, okay? We're going to take you to first aid and they'll help you. Just breathe for me, okay?" The murderer nodded. "Go grab a wheelchair."
The musician and the guard took the murderer to the first aid station and they got him calmed down, and it turned out he had an inhaler so that helped a lot. After the two got back to their cells, the musician started freaking out again. "Oh, god, what if we never get out of here? What if we die in here?"
"Shut up and stop being so dramatic. They can't keep us in here forever, it's Disneyland jail for God's sake."
"But what if they do?" the musician was crying at this point.
"Oh. My God. Shut up." the murderer groaned, sitting in the corner of the cell.
The musician pulled out his guitar and began to strum the strings, sitting against the wall.
"I'm stuck in Disney jail, I may never get out, help me please."
"Will you please stop that?"
"Stop what?" the musician sing-songed.
"The guitar and the singing. It's driving nails through my head." the asthmatic murderer changed positions.
"Well, it's the only thing that'll calm me down after breaking the internet, so what do you want me to do? It's either that or you hear me eating this entire box of Goldfish crackers I have over here." The musician grabbed his box of Goldfish and ate a handful.
"They still haven't fixed that?" the murderer rolled his eyes.
"No, and it's not helping me being nervous. What if they keep me in here longer because I broke the internet?"
"I'm sure they won't, now please shut up before I get sent to real prison for actual murder because I really feel like killing you."
"You're a little murderous, aren't you?" the musician questioned.
"You're a little melodramatic, aren't you?" the murderer responded.
The musician rolled his eyes. "I am not dramatic."
"You're over there crying because you think they'll keep you in here longer for breaking the internet. Last time I checked, that was melodramatic."
The musician ignored the murderer's comment and continued playing his guitar and singing. The technology crew finally came in to fix the internet, and a guard came to let the two men go. "You're not keeping me longer because I broke the internet?" The musician asked, looking concerned.
"Trust me, it happens every time someone is put in that cell. We really need to move that wire," the guard told the technology crew.
They nodded, and the musician sighed of relief. "Thank God, I don't think my anxiety levels could've handled that." The guard left to grab the men's belongings.
The murderer glared at the musician. "Boy, you're lucky I couldn't reach you to strangle you when you were singing."