One
“He’s mine!” Phil Daynton slammed down his whiskey glass. The golden liquid erupted, splattered over his hand and soaked into the plush carpet in the warden’s office at the Chicago prison. “Clarence Timmelsen thinks he can keep my little girl, Bea, from me.” He stood, holding his hand away from his clothes. “Well, I’ll cut him in half! And you can’t stop me.”
Warden William Ralston smirked as he sipped his drink, then quietly rested the crystal glass on his knee. Leather stretched and moaned as he leaned back in his chair.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Phil stabbed his finger onto Warden’s desk. “I get first crack at him!” Booze dripped onto the fine woodwork. His tongue flickered inside his mouth. Ohh. What a waste. He started to lick the back of his hand, but instead, wiped it on
