Yeah, he's not ready to outrun bullets

Plano Police HQ looked more like a suburban office suite than a traditional big-city police station. An overweight sergeant nodded as Lopez and her gang dragged in Rick's handcuffed ass. "What'd he do?"

"Covered with blood and sleeping in his car," Lopez said.

"Don't know that blood is against the law but sleeping in his car is a misdemeanor. We can hold him a while on that."

"Any murders we can pin on him?" Lopez asked. "He says it's a skin condition. Ha ha."

"I said I wanted my lawyer," Rick said.

There were about eight cops gathered around and all of them got a laugh over that. "If you're innocent," the desk sergeant announced, "you don't need a lawyer. So, you're basically admitting you're guilty. Now, hand over your driver's license."

"Handcuffs," Rick said.

"Guess we'll have to do this the hard way."

Ten minutes later, Rick was ushered into a cell where another prisoner already hogged the solitary bed.

The drunk looked at him. "Damn cops really gave you a beating, didn't they?"

"I have a skin condition," Rick lied.

"Well, keep the blood off the bed. They don't change the sheets worth shit here. And the food is completely the pits. I think the cops eat anything worth having and only give us the leftovers. I swear I got someone's Nutrisystem. Like, hey honey you need to lose some weight. And, sure, babe. I'll just give this to the prisoners and eat their burgers and fries."