My Father, the Criminal

“Gut oot oof dis mall,”said the thieves. Everybody scatters. As I am running I think that some of the words sounded like a foreign language. The words scattered through my head. I’ve heard them before. I heard them when my dad was on the phone once. He was talking to his boss. They were talking about some plan. Then I put it altogether in my head. Plan, get out of the mall, boss AH! My dad is working for a criminal. I stood there frozen. How was I going to get out of this situation alive? “Help!” I shout.