think about it every time it happens, and for me that’s a lot. I chalk it up to the hazards of the lifestyle, and buy boxes and boxes of Band-Aids. I hate running out of them too, the guy at Quick Stop always looks at me weird when I have to buy cartoon adhesive bandages because that’s all they have left. He never asks questions, though—maybe he doesn’t speak English—anyway, I keep going back.
The guy that stood in front of me looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t decide if he was the one who paid to find out who his wife was seeing on the side, or the son of that mob boss I accidentally offended last year. How was I supposed to know that horse was his daughter? How was I supposed to know she was anyone’s daughter? Needless to say, he did not find my livestock jokes at all amusing. So I’ve been trying to sell him out ever since then, and I can’t be sure, but I think that only makes him angrier.
It doesn’t really matter if this guy’s the scorned lover, or the horse girl’s brother, because he currently stood between me and my only escape route. Well, my only escape route, apart from the ten foot tall metal fence I was backed up against. It had metal barbed wire, and signs reading “ Warning! Keep out!” in about a dozen languages.
I eyed the rusted wire and wondered how much skin I’d lose if I had to depart that way.
The man was even closer to me then, and he was wailing on about something or another. It’s always the same thing from these people. They pay for my good information. It’s not my fault that they don’t always like what they hear, and it’s not my fault that sometimes other people would also pay for the same thing. It’s just business, and I am good at my job. Anything you want to know, anything at all, I can find out for you. But don’t shoot the messenger, or in this case, beat him up in a dark alley.
Some people just have a hard time letting go. Oh look at that , I thought. He’s making demands now. Unreasonable demands. Isn’t that cute?
It’s probably just a part of the grieving process, the mourning over a woman, possessions, their control over the situation, anything really.
This is just your typical dark alley, off a typical dark street, and trust me I’ve seen a few in my life—but if I had listened to my mother I wouldn’t be here now. You know, I used to be a good kid. But things change.
The guy was right on top of me then. His blonde hair flattened with perpetration, his angry eyes were dull and unfocused.
“You’re gonna pay, Vallenez.” he slurred.
And if I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d still have made far less money than spilling all my dirty little secrets, or usually, other peoples secrets.
I had already realized this man, in his present state, was capable of far less damage than the barbed wire. He had no knife, no gun, and no sword. He was just an angry mortal man, and bruises are always easier to hide than potential stitches. Just a little tip from me to you.
It’s not like I don’t understand this guy’s anger, I get that. I’ve had all kinds of unpleasant things happen to me in life, though, and only the recent ones were brought on by myself.
Most people in the world aren’t really good or evil. It’s not just me, no matter what you think. Not everyone is a hero or a villain. Some people are, and trust me I’ve met and pissed off a few of both kinds. But for the most part, the lines are blurred, and people on either side love me, and then hate my guts. Whatever. I don’t like them very much, either. It’s just a paycheck.
I looked away from the blonde and waited for a blow that never came. I hadn’t had my eyes closed but I have this habit of strategically mentally escaping unpleasant things. I’ve got this shirt right, that says I’m not here right now I’m in Tahiti . I’ve never been there, but I like to think I’d go one day. Or you know, maybe just clip out some nice
The guy that stood in front of me looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t decide if he was the one who paid to find out who his wife was seeing on the side, or the son of that mob boss I accidentally offended last year. How was I supposed to know that horse was his daughter? How was I supposed to know she was anyone’s daughter? Needless to say, he did not find my livestock jokes at all amusing. So I’ve been trying to sell him out ever since then, and I can’t be sure, but I think that only makes him angrier.
It doesn’t really matter if this guy’s the scorned lover, or the horse girl’s brother, because he currently stood between me and my only escape route. Well, my only escape route, apart from the ten foot tall metal fence I was backed up against. It had metal barbed wire, and signs reading “ Warning! Keep out!” in about a dozen languages.
I eyed the rusted wire and wondered how much skin I’d lose if I had to depart that way.
The man was even closer to me then, and he was wailing on about something or another. It’s always the same thing from these people. They pay for my good information. It’s not my fault that they don’t always like what they hear, and it’s not my fault that sometimes other people would also pay for the same thing. It’s just business, and I am good at my job. Anything you want to know, anything at all, I can find out for you. But don’t shoot the messenger, or in this case, beat him up in a dark alley.
Some people just have a hard time letting go. Oh look at that , I thought. He’s making demands now. Unreasonable demands. Isn’t that cute?
It’s probably just a part of the grieving process, the mourning over a woman, possessions, their control over the situation, anything really.
This is just your typical dark alley, off a typical dark street, and trust me I’ve seen a few in my life—but if I had listened to my mother I wouldn’t be here now. You know, I used to be a good kid. But things change.
The guy was right on top of me then. His blonde hair flattened with perpetration, his angry eyes were dull and unfocused.
“You’re gonna pay, Vallenez.” he slurred.
And if I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I’d still have made far less money than spilling all my dirty little secrets, or usually, other peoples secrets.
I had already realized this man, in his present state, was capable of far less damage than the barbed wire. He had no knife, no gun, and no sword. He was just an angry mortal man, and bruises are always easier to hide than potential stitches. Just a little tip from me to you.
It’s not like I don’t understand this guy’s anger, I get that. I’ve had all kinds of unpleasant things happen to me in life, though, and only the recent ones were brought on by myself.
Most people in the world aren’t really good or evil. It’s not just me, no matter what you think. Not everyone is a hero or a villain. Some people are, and trust me I’ve met and pissed off a few of both kinds. But for the most part, the lines are blurred, and people on either side love me, and then hate my guts. Whatever. I don’t like them very much, either. It’s just a paycheck.
I looked away from the blonde and waited for a blow that never came. I hadn’t had my eyes closed but I have this habit of strategically mentally escaping unpleasant things. I’ve got this shirt right, that says I’m not here right now I’m in Tahiti . I’ve never been there, but I like to think I’d go one day. Or you know, maybe just clip out some nice
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