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I snorted. He was a funny liar, at least.
“How about you?”
“Turning sex toys against their owners.”
I expected the usual responses:that was you?orwhat the hell are you talking about?depending on if the other person was living in the magical world when the Great Dildo Calamity took place.
Instead, Moe said, “Were you trying to start the robot uprising? I always tell robots thanks so that they’ll spare me. Maybe that’s why my vibes didn’t turn on me.”
“Who in the fuck are you?” I said, despite myself.
“I’m Moe. It can be hard to remember. I have a song…” He cleared his throat, and when he started to sing, his voice was warm and sonorous, sending goosebumps down my back.
“M for man and O for Oooohhhh.”
His lyrics needed work, though.
No, they don’t. He should moan more and louder and longer and harder.
Shut up, brain!
“E for everyone’s friend. That’s Moe!”
He had to be an over-the-top liar trying to get info from people. Or a top-notch troll. Or…
“How long have you been in here?”
“The hole? They keep the lights on all the time, so I don’t know. What day is it?”
“Monday the 20th.”
“A few hours then.”
“So, you lost your mind quickly.”
“Everyone asks me that, but no, this is just me. Maybe I’ll make up a song about you. A is for… hmmm… Always—you know, from the feminine aisle at the drugstore—can be a weapon tooooooo!” He stopped singing. “Is that too long?”
I burst into laughter. I couldn’t help it.
Moe laughed too, a truly happy sound.
“Always aren’t tampons,” I said.
“Hmm… I’ll think of something else. I just need to get to know you better.”
I tensed. There it was. He was fishing for intel for Ram or another one of the gangs.
“Your cock can get to know your asshole as you go fuck yourself,” I said.
“Wow… you’re mean,” Moe said as though he wasn’t offended at all. He continued in a softer voice. “Does being mean stop people from taking advantage of you as often?”
I glanced away from the crack as though he could see my gaze. “It doesn’t.”
“I wonder what does,” Moe said. “Are you mean because you’re sad? My friend, the one who’s going to get us out, he’s mean because he’s sad. Sometimes I think yelling would be easier than crying, but I don’t know how to yell loud enough to stop crying.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I was good at yelling, but I couldn’t do it loudly enough to stop the pain either. Not that I was going to tell all that to a stranger.
“You mentioned a friend who is going to get you out?”
