"Fuck it's the cops" said Salth McSkier, his heart pouding. Johnny had flashes of his Dad, disappointed with him after another run-in with the po-po...no this wouldn't happen again, not this time, he had shit to do on Friday! The solution came to him easily...he would RUN.
His body was cold but his legs were strong, built up after countless skiing days, this would be no match. After all, he only had to pack up his patented Ultra-lite Drop-in-O-matic, made of toothbrushes, gum, and human skin, and drive away.
Salth grabbed his planks and started to move, this would be a getaway to remember. Unhampered by his heavy ski boots, he strode like a thoroughbred up the stair set, not bothering to grab upon the perfect down-flat-down, the reason he was here in the first place. He made to the top in record time, noting after a quick check over his shoulder that the oinker-brigade had not even made a move since they arrived.