[ WP ]

Paul was writing frantically, possessed. names, addresses, dates. 
 
 *Bang Bang*.. They're here, they're knocking. He does n't have much time left. He was sitting at his little daughter's room, at her tiny table, with all her tiny pens and crayons. He would never see her again. Worse, she would never see him again. 
 
 No time! he must finish, in a moment he'd be dead but he can take them down, take all of them down. he just has to hide the paper, the police would find it, they'll know what to do. they'll call the FBI, the CIA, the NSA. an entire alphabet soup would descend upon those bastards. 
 
 He shoved the paper in the bottom drawer as the door was kicked open and three masked men yielding comically large guns burst through. 
 
 He raised his hands, trembling. In his left he was still holding his daughter's pen. on it he noticed the label: `Craykoto FunGAG. Disappearing Ink Pen` 
 
 `` Crap'' *BANG*.
