They arrest us and then stick us in some damn interrogation room for a good hour before sending in the big shot profiler.
He's all cool and in charge, and gets things started by reading our psych report.
The guy goes on for a while.
Now I'm all for flattery, but seriously, this guy's going on and on, and I'm sitting there handcuffed to a desk with better things to do. Eventually though, the guy gets to the good stuff--the three-hundred felonious allegations, the genius level-intellect, the two voices in my head. And it's a pretty easy guess as to where things are about to go.
He'd go on to say how it's not my fault.
How it's the voices who were responsible for what I've done.
How I should stop referring to myself as we.
...Yes, he'd go on to say all of that.
Except he didn't.
And the reason why is about as crazy as I, or rather we, are supposed to be.
ONE OF THE MOST UNIQUE BOOKS EVER! --AMAZON REVIEWER