Not Even For 5 Minutes...

(So much for restful sleep, ever. You're welcome.)

You like'a da word sprints, eh? The word sprints, she is a'good, no?

I give you more word sprints.

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“For the love of all that’s good and holy, if you don’t tell your insipid, whatever, friend, to stop talking this very instant, I promise you, what he will awaken to in the morning will make that scene in Godfather look like an outtake from the Care Bears.”

“Jesus, Terry. That’s kinda dark.”

“Why is he still yammering?”

“Jack, shut up. You’re hurting his nib’s feelings.”

Jack, who had been listing, in chronological order, every provable lie Donald Trump had told since announcing his presidency on that iconic escalator ride in June, 2015. He’d been talking more than an hour and had just gotten to August of ’15 when Terry reached his limit.

Terry was an effete gentleman. He was also a dangerous one. His threat to Jack wasn’t baseless; he had used that scene with the bodiless horse as the motivation for several of his pieces. Or contracted revenge murders. Whichever.

He was currently tied to a chair with a rope which, frankly, was really only there for the aesthetic. First, have you ever tried to tie anyone to anything with rope? You can never tighten it tight enough for it to do any difference. If Terry stood up suddenly, he’d be free. Plus, Tony couldn’t tie knots for shit. Second, and probably should’ve led with this, Terry is basically Superman without the moral code. Seriously. Those two idiots are about to fucking die.

Five Minutes of MAYHEM! (and word sprints)

I got five minutes, I'm stoned, and I'm near a keyboard. Giddyup.

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The man went by the absurd sobriquet of Barracuda Joe, despite being named Fred and never actually having seen a barracuda. Ever. Not even in a book or online. He had no idea it was a fish. Fred—or Joe, I guess—thought it was a bird of some sort and believed it to be resplendent. His word. Seriously. I know, right?

Anyway, Joe arrived at the address in the email at around two in the morning, several hours early. He had been taught from an early age to always respect those who want your company by arriving early, letting them know you literally could not wait until the mutually-agreed upon time. Using this logic, Joe was about to enter the home of a mob boss who was going to give Joe $100 to stand look out for a thing they were doing Thursday morning. The meeting was scheduled for 1 p.m.

Tomorrow.

Joe’s about to get his ass beat.