There they are. Yep. Right there on the seat where I dropped them.
Again.
Okay, don’t panic. Call the wife.
Cell phone.
Well, looky here. Right next to the keys. On seat. The other side of the lock.
Pay phone.
Oh, yeah.
They landfilled them all.
Hello! Hey, lady, can I… Lady. Hey. Yeah. You. Can you help me. No. No. I’m not a pervert. I just want your cell phone. What? No, I don’t think it would fit and ladies shouldn’t talk like that.
Cold. Yep, there’s the coat. On the seat. The one next to the seat with the keys and the cell phone.
Wish that lady would have called a cop.
Store can help. No. Too late. All closed.
Cops patrol. Where’s a donut shop when you need one?
“Machine-gun sentences. Fast. Intense. Mickey Spillane-style. No way around it. Paul is a top-notch writer. Top-notch.” Thomas Phillips, author of The Molech Prophecy.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
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