Mike, sitting on the passenger side of the front seats, turned and eyed his partner and smirked wickedly. Marissa was behind the wheel of the old Ford Vic as she turned the corner, almost smacking into an on-coming car in the process and pulled up to a stop in front of the giant house belonging to the mother and her young boy.
“Here,” he said, stretching out his left arm and throwing out his middle finger. “Pull the finger.”
The dark red-headed woman sat back in the car seat and glared first at her partner and then at the extended middle finger sticking out rudely at her only inches in front of her nose. Her lips pulled back in an animal snarl as she slowly turned her head and glared at Mike.
“Get that finger out of my face now, or I’m going to bite it off and shove it up your nose!”
“
