I Like To Move It

ON THE RUN

"Who had finally found me? " you must be thinking. 

Well, a little known fact about me is that I am actively involved in the Madagascar Mafia. The leader of said Mafia is of course, King Julien III. He has an illustrious career as a King, but he is a lemur of many talents and decided to start an organization within his kingdom to secure is power and position. 

I have been the loyal servant to King Julien for exactly 4 years and 20 days. I am mostly a criminal expert at breaking into facilities and stealing valuable goods and information for the King. There is danger that comes with this job, though. 

I thought I had gone under the radar. Two months ago I had infiltrated the Muppet Mafia for valuable information regarding how to play the banjo so perfectly that your enemies are seduced and put under a spell. Of course, being the best in the game I easily got the information and King Julien has been playing the banjo and screaming "I LIKE TO MOVE IT MOVE IT" since. 

I must say, the mafia leader, Kermit is quite skillful to have found me, even if it was two months since the breach. 

I take out my gun out of my handbag and prepare for gunfire when I come back to my senses, "THE LOVE OF MY LIFE MIGHT GET SHOT BECAUSE OF THIS" I think. 

I quickly hustle to the Teletubbies, who are huddled behind a table that has been flipped over. Fools, they don't know that bullets can go through wooden tables or something? 

"You need to run! I'll hold them off!" I yell to them.

Po and I make eye contact, "Thank you, I will never forget this," he says. I could die happy at this point. 

He doesn't know this is my all my fault, and it is better this way. I quickly hustle over to the back door, verify that the coast is clear and direct everyone out. 

"These mafia members must not be very smart if they don't cover the back entrance", I think to myself as I start shooting at the figures dressed in black running at me. They are all armed with AK-47s and body armor, there is no way I can win this. 

"Who says I have to win?" I say out to myself. As the highest member of the Madagascar Mafia, I am always prepared. I take a smoke bomb out of my purse, throw it in the entrance and shoot blindly. This will make them think I am actively engaging, but in reality, I have marked all possible exits and plan to make an escape through the skylight on the roof. 

The mafia start shooting at the entrance and I take out my grappling hook out of my bag. (I know my bag is very spacious AND I thrifted it !).  I shoot through the skylight, grapple upwards and I'm on the roof. 

Obviously the armed mafia have heard the breaking of glass, but with the smoke and shooting, its hard to pinpoint where. I'm covered in cuts from the shards of glass, but I need to keep moving. A gunman spots me on the roof and shoots, striking me in the shoulder. 

The pain is excruciating, but I've had worse. I run and take a leap of faith towards the next building, running until I'm out of range. The melodic voice of my leader King Julien III singing "I like to move it move it" (specifically his 10 hour recording) is playing in my head, the only think keeping me going. The gunmen are carrying heavy artillery, making them much less nimble.

I have so many thoughts running through my head like, "Is Po alright? Am I going to die without him? WHERE THE HELL IS THE GODAMN POLICE? LIKE THERES A WHOLE ARMED SHOOTING GOING ON AND THE COPS ARE NO WHERE TO BE FOUND? Some "protection" they are."

I see a ladder going down the back of one of the buildings ahead. I need to get off the roofs, where I'm easily visible, even if that means going into the dangerous back alleys of this city. I quickly descend this ladder and run down the alley, hearing the yelling of the gunmen not far. 

I see a disbanded bicycle, its so close to falling apart, but it will have to do. I bike for what feels like hours until I don't hear the gunmen anymore. Now that they know I'm in the city, I'm never safe. I sneak into a run-down hotel through a window and into the restroom right next to it.

Now that I'm not full of adrenaline, I feel the immense pain of the shards of glass stuck in me along with the gunshot wound. In a few hours, I'll die from loss of blood. I quickly rip off a part of my shirt and apply pressure to my gunshot wound while I use my other hand to remove the shards of glass out of me. 

I need medical attention, but I know that the mafia will have men posted outside of every hospital in the area, because they know I'm injured.

I am officially on the run from the Muppet Mafia, who is not far behind.