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.
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