Interrogated

It wasn't my fault.  I'm sure you hear that excuse all the time- like all the freakin' time.  But in my case, it really wasn't.  I mean, who the hell even uses getaway cars anymore?  And who the hell would run into the back seat of Jetta if they were gonna use one?  It's really just a simple case of mistaken identity.  Wrong bank, wrong time, shouldn't have been sitting there with the engine on.

Why'd I drive?  Well, that's simple- the guy had a gun.  You see a ski-mask wearing man in your rear-view mirror screaming at you to drive while waving a semi-automatic around your cab and you freakin' drive.  I didn't have time to think, I just had to gun it.

The cops?  Yeah, I saw the lights and heard the sirens.  Christ, did I hear those sirens- those things could make a whole damned neighborhood go deaf!  But that just made the guy scream at me louder.  "Turn right!"  And "No- there!  There!"  And then he was cursing at me cause I didn't know where I was going.  I couldn't think about anything other trying not to crash!

I thought I was havin' a heart attack!  The guy screamin' at me, the car screechin'- Jettas aren't exactly known for their quiet rides, you know?  And I was speedin' around corners and nearly t-boning a dozen cars while the guy in the back is up my ass with a freakin' machine gun and- huh?

Semi automatic, machine gun- what the hell difference does it make?  Either way the thing'll shoot your face off!  Besides, doesn't it say that in your report?  Oh, right- you're the one askin' the questions, yeah.

What's that?  Why was I waitin' there in the first place?  Well, that's a longer story.  What're you gonna tell me you got all the time in the world?  Yeah, well- I don't.  So unless you're gonna charge me with something I'm- huh?  Aiding and abetting?  What the- yeah?

Um... I'd like to call a lawyer.