“Back off,” the boy said. “I’m not afraid to use this.” His hand was in his jacket pocket, tenting the material from the inside.
“That’s just a crayon, kid,” the mugger laughed, before being blown off his feet.
Harold pulled a purple crayon from his pocket and blew a curl of smoke from the tip.
“That’s just a crayon, kid,” the mugger laughed, before being blown off his feet.
Harold pulled a purple crayon from his pocket and blew a curl of smoke from the tip.
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