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" Indeed, shot head in the dead."
"Don't you mean shot dead in the head?" vanessa was not dyslexic.
"A keen observation my dear woman, your mind is sharp, astute, your one of the finest peoples I know. But
don't tell me how to do my job. I don't tell you how to do yours."
"Anyhow, what was I saying? Ah yes, the shot head. So I'm sitting in a bar on the west-side...I suppose one
could even say that this is.. -a west side story-." I waited for at leat an obligatory 'pfff' or a grunt of
aknowldegment at my little effort. Unadulterated silence.....erg.
"Fuck You!" I said.
"Exsqueeze me?" Vanessa suitably jarred by my silver tongue.
"You heard me, I'll remember your lack of participation in my joke; albeit terrible. next time you make a
bad joke I will make it my business to leave you floundering in murderous silence, what do you think about that,
what do you say there?"
"You're a petty man."
"Yes, and I have a small penis." I said.
"Right...the bar....Firstly, let me give a bit of breifing on this establishment. Right off the bat I would
say it's a very common place, certainly not equipped to cater for a persons with real taste. A refuge for sullen
ruffians, with little on no regard for anyone but themselves or the latest bar fly whom, by sheer force of proximity,
have be endowed with their lenghty and supercilious life story, which they promptly forgotten ten minutes afterwards.
I'm there purely for research mind you, I record everything via dictaphone and sell the resultant idiotic stories
to the heavy-footed maladorits of the literary world. This night, this story, was certainly not fit for the hams.
At my table, essentially minding my own business, I notice a group of boorish revellers bustle in. They appeared
to be celebrating a joyous occasion, the alcohol and goofy statements flow freely. I'm not at all dissapointed
when a stripper dances her way past through to the gorgle of drunkards, she's dressed up like a cop and starts
to loosen her tie as she approaches. One thing which strikes me as odd is this one fella who seems bugged by the
whole situation, and is looking very cagey indeed. I take a sip of my drink, look up, and this guy is pulling a
gun from under his jacket, it's one of those jackets with the orange lining, particulary goulish atire I must say.
Crack! Crack! He shoots straight through the strippers head and she flops down like a natty doll.
It's now my fervent hope that this lunatic doesn't start randomly firing shots around the place, or worse, start
kicking people in the cocks. Ever been at the gas station, minding your own business, and one of those big-wig,
big-rig petrol pullers parks in, or around the station?"
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