by unriggable on Sun Jul 29, 2007 4:33 pm
It's tricky business
But four weeks past I took some goons of Joe.
And I tortured them, cut off their manliness and threatened to kill their families if they didn't give me what I want.
They told me where to find this thug. They must have been weaklings considering how little they refused to tell me.
Shame. How someone who thinks he's so strong hires such feminine bodyguards.
Hours pass as I ride in a hotwired Chevrolet down to wherever it is I'm going. Thank Mohammed for the Nav system, normally only rich white motherfuckers really want them and only poor unfamiliar immigrant newbies need them.
But here I had one, and by the balls of Jesus it helps me get there.
Of course the free ride comes to an end. Coppers. Popos. Call them what you like, to me they are nothing but a distraction.
I know the work of this thug, I know he hates his coppers. So if I'm going up against a man like this, I have to take it a step further.
It's hard driving 135 miles an hour with a body in your trunk, but then again you gotta do what you gotta do.
Do I finally kill Joe Beevers? Tune in next time whenever I feel like it.
