Glen
looked at the clock to see 5:45am. Typically, he’d be up and jogging into the
Michigan frost, but one or two days out of the week, he would not go out. In
the winter times, it would be two to three. He is a man who cares about his
physical beauty and health, even when he seriously didn’t think of women a lot
sans a few times in bed. Glen’s thoughts went around women in country music. He
thought of a select few who happen to be brunettes. Only, like 95% of men,
thought of fucking them. His mind ran around three female country stars with
black or brown long hair and he grew a hard-on. But before he thought of
playing with himself, he remembered that Rudy happen to be sleeping on the
couch out in the living room.
In
the dark room with a little light peeping out the window from a headlight in
the Condo Parking lot, he stepped out of the bed and walked to the door, slowly
closing it shut and locking it. He knew more than likely that Rudy would never
just barge right in, but then again, he’d never know.
Back
to bed he went, with his left hand on his cock, thinking about lovely country
music chicks, singing in a music video directed by him, playing for a private
audience of one. The music video altered as a trio of the three he was thinking
about, all three were naked and singing about being fucked. The jerkoff session
for Glen was working for about five minutes and pretty soon, he’d reach his
climax. However, what entered into his head was a blonde country singer, one
who looked like Sheila. He stopped the whole process and within a half minute,
his cock went from six inches to usual size.
‘If Sheila is watching, she’d be
disappointed.’ He thought.
The
afterlife was a question to Glen, first it was an altering music video of three
lovely county stars naked and singing about fucking, now to what Glen thought
is the afterlife… if so there is one. The Mormon view in which Glen shared all
the way until the coming aftermath of the sudden death of his father at twelve,
was taught that Mormon’s believe in heaven and hell. Unlike the popular Christianity
that was considered the top in the United States, a Mormon in hell has the
chance to go to heaven. A strict religion with questionable morals does allow a
chance to enter the promised land after you leave Earth, unlike Christianity,
in which one strike, you’re out.
Glen
wanted to rid away of the thought of the afterlife. He really wanted to think
there was some kind of afterlife, and really he did. But what was it? He agreed
that Christianity and Mormonism is wrong about it, or maybe had the wrong idea
about how it works. To make him laugh at this poor situation, he thought of how
the Mormon prophet Joseph Smith Jr. awoke one morning to see the ghost of Moroni visit him.
He
next went into the shower to clean off the sweat and also whatever disgust he
had on his hands. But while washing himself off, he thought of trying to move
on with life, finding a girl after Shelia. He began to think of a neighbor some
years back in his teenage days in Eastpointe on how a man lost his wife of
thirty years. He moved on with another woman, but he seriously tried to make
the new girlfriend look more like his wife, even cutting her hair while she was
sleeping. Oh, it was a big story among the residents on the block. And the guy
moved out due to embarrassment. It was something Glen agreed with, not to ever
try to change the present girl/wife to appear like the dead one. So, a redhead
and a brunette would do. But he emerged on preferences, would her being into
Country music be a problem? That could trigger the reminder of Sheila, as she
once was a disc-jockey for a station in suburban Detroit. Before Country, Glen
loved progressive rock such as Rush and any bands similar, he was also a Dream
Theater fan as well, but into his college years he abounded those bands due to
the constant listening of Country due to a roommate who loved it. The music got
to him, and also showed the interest along with another Eastern Michigan
University Alumni, Sheila Rucker, better to be known as Sheila Clarke, a
promising lunch-time disc-jockey, who would later be killed while walking on a
sidewalk one early evening by a drunken teenager who lost track of the road.
And a horde of local media feeds went crazy on the death of this poor local
female celebrity by the hands of dumb teenage males who were blasting rap music
and driving while intoxicated.
Glen
finished up and dried himself down while thinking about how MADD, SADD and any
particular special interest group was knocking on his door, wanting deals on
how to publicize poor Sheila Rucker. A year ago, Glen would think of this in
tears, but now, it’s just a past thought. Although a sad thought, it was
something he was used to. When they called or even showed up at his door, to
see mainly overweight woman wearing wedding rings and showing remorse for him
and expressing anger to the ones responsible. Glen liked the help, but mostly,
he didn’t want to deal with them. He didn’t want to be reminded by strangers
and these special interest groups went way too far. He was visited by a
religious group who stated that the kids in that Kia Sedona were “wanna-be
niggers.” Glen knew religious hypocrisy, but that even surprised him.
He forwarded all calls and knocks on the door
to Colleen Warnock, the mother of Shelia Rucker. Colleen, a likely Histrionic
Personality Disorder candidate, strived on the dramatics. Glen wouldn’t mind to
see an occasional Sheila Rucker RIP. However, much to his dismay, he saw a
billboard with Sheila in an angel suit (one could easily tell it was altered)
and a heavenly background. It was an anti-drunk driving billboard and the logo
of the particular special interest group was large. They used his dead
girlfriend for their special interest… and for financial gain.
He didn’t wish to dwell more on the aftermath
of that incident, only he did contact the group with serious fury. He got his
boxers and t-shirt back on and was looking for something to eat. The lure of
breakfast got to him.
He left the bathroom and out into the living
room, target the kitchen.
Rudy lifted himself off slightly with a grunt
and said, “Jerking off, again?”
Glen with horror in his mind sighed, he turned
to him lying on the bed with eyes wide open and a fiendish smile on his face.
“My friend,” Glen said, “this is the last time
you crash at my house if you are staring at me.”
Rudy got up completely and out of the bed with
a shake of his head, “I heard you lock the door and I heard of you washing
where the sun don’t shine.”
Ten
minutes later, the two sat at the small modern kitchen table. Glen was still in
his boxers and wife beater, while Rudy wore the same clothes as yesterday. The
two each were munching on a bowl of Golden Grahams.
“Do you remember when your mom or my aunt
wouldn’t allow us to eat this shit and she always bought Special K or cereal
that old people eat?”
Glen with a mouthful nodded.
“Growing up Mormon, I can see why it took you
a while to strike out into the sick world.” Rudy added.
“Yes, when I got my first job, I would always
buy Pepsi and hid it in the snow during winter time. I remember when one day it
suddenly got warm and most of the snow melted. Mom walked out and saw the cans
of Pepsi in the backyard.”
“Yes, Aunty Nicole just loved to hurt those
who troubled her. What a bitch.”
“And speaking of bitches, you are a bitch.”
Glen said to Rudy.
He took in a spoonful of Golden Grahams and
just looked on.
Glen said, “It’s creepy that you knew I was
jerking off.”
“You need to get a girl, dude.”
“I had Jules at the bar.”
“You didn’t fuck her, she told me all she did
was suck you off and you barely came.”
“That counts.”
Rudy took another spoonful and shook his head.
“That doesn’t?”
“It counts when you fuck.”
Glen looked away, “Boy, I wonder who is given
the authority to make the rules.”
Rudy shrugged, “All I know is when you fuck,
that counts.”
Glen took a spoonful too, but before then with
sarcasm, “wow…”
“And Jules was blonde.”
“Now she’s a redhead.” Glen said while
chewing.
“I know you will get over Sheila’s death, but
it’s taking too long, dude.”
Glen drew a semi-smile, “I know, Rudy.”
“I’m just saying, I think it’s time to move
on.”
“I know.”
Rudy paused, expecting Glen to get a little
upset over it, “You know?”
Glen took a spoonful, “Yes, Rudy. I know you
told me this after Jules three months ago.”
“Well, when you do, don’t be like that
neighbor we had before I left town back in our teenage days to Las Vegas,
remember him?”
“Yes, I remember him.”
“Yeah, if it’s a brunette you get next, don’t
be coloring her hair blond while she’s sleeping. You know I’m here for you when
it comes to protection. But if you do that shit and she catches you and wants
to kill you, you are on your own.”
Glen smiled, “Don’t worry, if someone is out
to kill me later in life, it will not be her due to that reason, but it’s a
bummer that you are leaving to South Carolina at the end of the week.”
“Most of us during the winter, AB and Jones
will be here.”
“The Vice and the black dude?”
“Yep, if the Albanians try to fuck your ass
clean with their dicks, just call them.”
The two stayed silent for a minute while
chewing food.
Then Rudy asked, “Who were you thinking about
when you were wacking it?”
Glen looked at Rudy funny.
“Or…what were you thinking about?”
Glen
arrived to the Shelby Township Ropers, finding a spot in the employee parking
lot which was off to the side and a walk to meet the Michigan wind hitting him
in the face as he exited out. But he
dawned out as nothing. He could hear the old children’s song, ‘Whistle While
You Work’ playing in his head. He wouldn’t whistle, but he smiled as he walked
to that big building open 24/7 (minus certain religious holidays). He went
inside via the east entrance/exit. Whistle While Your Work was first
interrupted by the elderly female curly blond (with grey coming through) greeting Mr. Fletcher. The song faded away with Wilson-Phillips’
rendition of “Hey Santa.” A good taste of pop music that hit the early nineties
vein would be responsible for fading out the concentration of that children’s
song.
Glen
continued to his office nevertheless and was greeted by more employees (or team
members as the Ropers code would say). He said hello and good morning to each
of them while he headed to the back offices. Once in, he located his office to
see that light wasn’t on, Barbara was late or perhaps wasn’t showing up. Who
knows? Glen put his briefcase onto his desk, thanking any power responsible to
not have the Christmas music flowing in his office. But before he could sit
down, the phone ringed.
“Christ, could I sit the hell down?” he said
to the ringing phone.
Jimbo
got off the bus right at the corner on the specific Harbor Drugs he played
employee for. It was in a strip mall where it took the lead, with many shops
going down to the east. He walked off the bus and straight down to the store
that was already opened. On his way, he saw the manager-in-charge, who wasn’t
his brother Todd, but a chubby and perhaps annoying Myra Palavich. She was the
store supervisor, not a strict one, but rather annoying and could easily be a
second version of his mother or an aunt who just loves children and mentally
challenged people. The cheek pincher she was, and she did this to clientele
bringing in children, even though they looked down or tell her not to do so, or
stop.
“Augh, Jesus.” Jimbo muttered.
Jimbo approached and Myra was adjust in sale
sign up front, she saw him and breathed with excitement, and with a voice
suggesting she was talking to a child, “Hi, James.”
She approached with her right hand up and the
notion to pinch a cheek, but Jimbo ignored her and went inside.
The
holiday music had started up within the Harbor Drugs he worked for. Hey Santa
by Wilson-Philipps was finishing up, next to “Have A Holly Jolly Christmas.”
Jimbo did not wear his vest and saw a customer appearing to need some help
around the cosmetics aisle. The display was well-to-do with many shades and
styles and colors. On the tops of each display was a brand name logo with some
model or actress. Beyoncé had a bigger display than all of the other models, arguably
appearing more like a white woman, much opposed to the skin color she was born
with. Jimbo would pass that one up and think a boring thought at times, to
think that you could actually alter your skin color with the crap that Harbor
Drugs sells.
Jimbo
went into the employee’s only area with no one around. He hung up his backpack
on the coat racks, then his coat over the backpack.
He punched in and a second thereafter, “Hey,
the cosmetics display looks like shit.”
Jimbo turned over to see Todd strangely close
to him, “Whoa, that’s scary. No one was here just five seconds ago.”
“Shut up, faggot.” Todd said, “Now, go fix the
cosmetics display. Since you’re the faggot here, you would know how to put it
up to code. I bet your faggot ass steals some of it and puts that shit on for
your gay lover.”
Jimbo chuckled with a shake of his head, “You
know a lot about gays, Todd.”
Todd stepped closer, “Fuck you, queer.”
“Now Todd, haven’t I told you about that kind
of language here.” Said Myra who was behind him.
“Yeah, Todd. I agree, especially when a month
ago, you called a male customer a homo for just passing by the cosmetics aisle
and appearing interested.” Jimbo added.
“That’s right,” Myra said and now approached
Todd, “You were suspended two weeks ago.”
Todd didn’t reply.
“Now, I know you two have your mother here as
a pharmacist, but I am the one in charge of your jobs. I’ve been too nice to
you two. Todd, you have been insulting customers a few times and really
insulting your brother. And James, I don’t like the idea of you telling me how
to do my job and also your sometimes refusal to help customers, that is part of
your job.”
“Wait a sec…” Jimbo said, “what do you mean by
me telling you how to do your job?”
“Last week, you told me not to pinch the cheek
of a child. You know, children do like that, and the customers like a pleasant
staff, like me. You two are way short of par on that one.”
“That may be, I guess I need to improve, but I
promise you Myra, customers find it unpleasant when you pinch their child’s
cheeks. Some take that as an insult.” Jimbo said.
Myra put her arm on her hip, “And how would
you know, James? You treat people like crap. I said hello to you on the way
here, you just passed me by like I wasn’t there.”
Jim was about to respond, then Myra went on
again.
“You know what, just don’t be assholes on the
job. We will pretend that we didn’t have this meeting here. But Todd, you are
in charge of the Cosmetics issue, so you fix it.” Myra said.
“But, Myra, I…” Todd started.
Myra interrupted, “Todd, just shut it and do
it.”
Todd walked away, but after he passed Myra, he
looked at Jim with a menacing stare for a few seconds, then moved on.
“Now, James…”
“Jim would work.” Jimbo interrupted.
“I like James, it sounds professional. You are
James Raynor here while you work.”
‘Sure thing, Hitler.’ Jim thought.
“Be a little more polite to the customers
here. I’ve seen you debility hiding from customers who need help. You and your
brother are doing the same, only your brother also insults customers.”
“Then can him.” Jim said.
“How about you both? There are a lot of
unemployed people who would love to do your job and can do better than you two.
Especially, they wouldn’t insult customers.”
“I don’t insult customers.”
Myra approached closer, “Just do your job.
I’ll be talking to your mother about this.”
Jim gave her the thumbs up and walked around
her. He then walked out of the hall to see his mother approaching.
“James!” she said with excitement, and proceeded
to him with open arms wanting a hug and kiss.
Jim walked around her like Peter Gibbons
walked around Bill Lumbergh and continued on.
She turned around, “Jim, what about my hug?”
The
notions of work continued as Rudy rode shotgun in a Pontiac Firebird while the
ringleader was driving the car onto the parking lot of ____ bar. The two exited
the car after a bummed parking job.
“It’s good to start work at noon. Beats the
fuckin’ desk job.” The ringleader said.
Rudy said, “it’s still too early for me.”
Quarter
before three had struck in the world of Harbor Drugs store number 3458. Since
being yapped at by his lead manager Myra Palavich, Jim did as she commanded and
put himself out for customers to be of service. He also had to play the
counselor to a customer who was violently angry when Myra pinched his son’s
cheek and was told that he would report her to the Harbor Drugs corporate
offices.
Jim smiled on to that and said to him, “Well,
that is your privilege.”
And he would like to see her fired or demoted,
he could also say that for Todd too. He would love to encourage that man to
take action, but he was in a world where he can’t, but he was confident that he
would. He also witnessed an hour earlier, his brother making a pill deal with a
black gentleman at the back door. Jim, as he rarely does, walked out and said
to his brother, “You know, this shit is illegal. Is it worth it to risk getting
thrown in prison with a black man pounding your ass?”
His brother responded with anger on that one,
as usual.
Just before noon, he was running the cash
register with his Mom nearby telling a female elderly customer, who comes by
once a week for a prescription refill, about her youngest son who happened to
be running the cash register. She also talked about how in the past, he would
hug and kiss her on demand and how she missed the good ole days. That angered
Jim a little as he thought about telling her publicly to literally go screw, in
which he did once when he started working at Harbor Drugs two years back. He
continued on anyway.
Until his mom asked for his attention, in
which he did give her that, for her to blow a kiss at him and say, “I love you,
James.”
Jim swallowed that bullet of embarrassment and
continued on. The elderly woman approached to buy some crossword puzzles and
stated how nice Jim’s family is and how cute Jim looks.
Jim, taking advantage of the busy line of
people like his Mom did, said, “Oh, you should meet my older brother Todd. He’s
really nice, he’s a gay activist and also sells vicodin by the back door,”
while pointing towards the back, “will that be all?”
He
finished with playing cashier and returned to the back, although he was
scheduled till three. He wished to exit out a little early, something he
wouldn’t dare to do, but since working with his family was getting to him as he
made a few insults here and there to them on this day, he felt the bravery to
clock out a little early and take the heat for it later. He knew he was going
to get a phone call from hi m other for this if provided that she didn’t
witness him do it now, but he couldn’t care less. After turning in his papers
from being a cashier for a few hours to Myra in a back room with a lock, he
walked into the break room to see Todd eating on one table and a female waiting
to clock in, she had a gothic look to her which was allowed under Harbor Drugs
rules, with black hair, a mouth piercing and black eye-liner.
“Wendy.” Jimbo regarded her.
“James.” She said.
“Waiting to punch in?”
“Yeah…”
Jimbo walked closer to where Todd was sitting.
“Don’t come near me, faggot!” Todd suddenly
said, next to stand up appearing to preparing a fight.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Jesus, what the hell is
your problem?”
“I don’t like faggots getting close to me.”
Todd said.
Wendy chimed in, “What the fuck, Todd? How old
are you?”
Todd smiled, “Oh, Wendy, defending the
gaywad!?”
Wendy was about to speak, but Jimbo raised his
arm and said to her, “I handle the monster.”
He looked at Todd, “Still angry about that old
guy in the pool?”
“Fuck you.” Todd said with a ruthless silence.
Jimbo looked on.
“Did you have something to do about that old
lady who went up to me and asked me that I was a gay activist?”
Jimbo chuckled, “She did? I’ll be damned.”
“Yeah, then I told her that you were the gay
activist, cause you’re the gayguy around here. Always at the cosmetics aisle. I
catch you stealing that shit, I’ll personally fire you myself…faggot!”
“You can’t fire me. Besides…” Jimbo went to
punch out, “I’m clocking out a little early.”
“You can’t do that.” Todd said.
“Watch me.” Jimbo said while walking out the
door.
Glen
arrived to Heroes Coffee once again, this time without Rudy. He prepared for
another coaching trip with Juby. This time, he was prepared to ask about
compensation for his helping with Juby, although he was being paid a grand for
his services, he wished to know a little more and who the rest of the rotation
was. He entered the coffee shop to see it pretty much close to empty, minus
Amel and another Albanian man sitting at the round table, with cups of
espresso.
Glen approached the round table and Amel
asked, “Where’s your friend?”
Glen took a seat, “He’s busy.”
Amel sat forward, “Listen up, thanks a lot for
helping Juby get some money for us for once. He called me up at midnight
bragging about it, but he’s pissed that you wouldn’t hang out with him after.
He’s seriously bummed out about it.”
“I imagine he is lonely? The other cops in the
force treat him like shit?”
“Perhaps, I’m not to knowledgeable.”
“How come a cop works for you? I imagine you
have ties with the SCSPD?”
“We are friends with the second-in-command.”
“So they give you a pussy-whipped cop? No
offense.”
Amel and the other man chuckled at that.
“He isn’t too good at what he is trying to do
on his personal time, more of less intimidating me.”
“True to that, so that comes to our problem.”
“Problem?”
“Yes, the man you betted against.”
“You mean Juby betted against?”
“According to Juby, this was your idea to
select the person he was betting against.”
Glen wondered in thought, then said, “Yes.
What is the issue?”
“He’s Mario Formaris, he’s a big runner of the
Mob.”
“Am I going to join my dead fiancée anytime
soon?” Glen calmly asked.
Amel gave out a sour look, “No, I don’t think
you’ll be dying, he just happens to know that Juby’s winning was influenced by
you.”
Glen was about to respond to that, but he was greeted
by the lovely Albanian server who asked if he wanted anything with her thick
accent.
“I’ll take a peppermint tea, if you have
that.”
“We sure do.” She said, while walking away.
He looked back to Amel, “What’s your
affiliation with the Mob?”
Amel shrugged, “We play like a minor league
team to them, they pay us good. In fact, my number one and two are part of
them, we get a cut. They gamble at minimum two thousand dollars at the time.”
Glen said, “I didn’t think Albanians are into
baseball.”
“We’re not. Fucking boring game, like cricket,
y’know. We like Soccer of Futbol as we call it, we like basketball and American
football. I use the baseball as a figure of speech. In fact, I hear you got
some winning on the baseball, we could use you for that when that comes
around.”
“That’s going to be a while.”
“Anywho, it’s no secret really, Formaris
basically commands us. And he asked that I take Juby out and you become number
five.”
The Albanian server approached with the
peppermint tea.
Glen said, “Really?”
“Yes, Really.”
“Since he asked, is that what you are going to
do?”
“First, we have a little assignment, then we
will see if you are worthy of number five.”
“Another coaching trip with Juby?”
“Fuck Juby, you’re going to Troy. We like to
see how you do with college basketball. Juby told me he lost his ass off due to
advice you gave to a man betting against him before we paired you too.”
“I never gave advice, Juby fucked it up right
there.”
“Hmm… well, I guess we can just hand you the
number five. Ready for the next assignment?”
Glen
and Tommy rode on in the blue Ford Focus with Glen, of course, piloting. He
picked up Tommy from what would be considered by most, the ghetto of Mount
Clemens that laid north of the downtown area. The Clem (a nickname for Mt.
Clemens) is the county seat of Macomb County. Besides that, it was a town
filled with entertainment with plenty of bars, restaurants and even the famed
Emerald Theatre. Although the population was less than 25,000, the Clem could
lure people from other towns to come by and play.
Tommy said, “I told you to take a step out of
the box, but we’ve gone too far.”
“I’m the fall guy, so shut up.” Glen said as
he made a Michigan left turn into Hall Road from Gratiot Avenue, Hall Road lead
into the border line of Troy and the town above it, Rochester Hills.
“Shut da fuck up, man!” Tommy replied.
“It’s true. I’m the fall guy. I fuck up, I get
my head chopped off, you go on with your life.” Glen said.
“So where are we going?”
“A pizza place in Troy. That is what the
Albanians want.”
“They are probably going to chop off our
heads, did you ever think of that? It’s the fucking mob.” Tommy said.
“We are in Troy, they aren’t going to do
anything.”
“I trust a town filled with white people and
the mob.”
Glen looked at him, “What’s with your hatred
towards white people?”
“’Cause white people are crazy.”
Glen looked back onto the road, “And you
expect to do good with your gambling, with that kind of animosity?”
“Tell me you have seen Casino and Goodfellas?”
“I personally like Goodfellas. I remembered me
and Rudy watching it just after my father died. My mom came home witnessing me
watching it, she got pissed off.”
“Yeah, I can see that with your Mormon
family.” Tommy said while looking out the window.
“Besides, Tommy, they want me to help with the
College Basketball.”
“So, you are going to use me to win?”
“You get a cut plus your head won’t be chopped
off if you give me bad advice.”
“But why me?” Tommy asked while turning back
to Glen.
Glen looked him in the eye with a smile,
“Because, you get paid. I’m helping you,” he looked back, “we both know that in
college basketball, there are players who don’t give a shit and the mob pays
them money to fuck up more. That explains the reason why Eastern Michigan was
doing so poorly.”
“Man, Eastern Michigan never really won shit
in years, basketball wise.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“But I did hear about the star player some ten
years ago getting paid off.”
“What was his name?”
“Daniels.”
“Oh yeah, he was in business school with me.”
“Yeah, he was getting butt-fucked by the mob.”
Glen meet a red light at the Romeo Plank cross
roads, seeing the new mall on the southwest corner.
“Man, they built another mall,” Tommy said,
“why the fuck do these white people need another mall for?”
“It’s probably because Lakeside is starting to
become the mall white people used to go to.”
“Augh bullshit, last time I was there, it was
all these hipsters and shit. White people everywhere, if that’s the reason why they
built that mall, they must’ve got scared ‘cause they probably saw one black
person floating around in there.”
“They saw you, so that’s why the built the
mall.”
Tommy laughed at that one while the light
turned green. The Ford Explorer in front began to proceed, but suddenly the
driver hit the brakes.
“God damn, you know, people around here keep
doing that shit. They see a green light and they hit the gas, then they hit the
brakes. What the fuck is wrong with these people?” Tommy asked.
“It’s easy to be dumb in suburbia.” Glen
replied, the person in front of him began to accerlate.
“Yeah, I mean the houses are big around here,
subdivisions and condos and all they all look the same. And the people think
the same, they not so sure if the fuckin’ light is green.”
“Well, I think he or she is sure now.”
After about fifteen seconds of driving with
barely any traffic in front of the leader, the same person Glen and Tommy were
behind had showed the brakes and slowed down to twenty-five MPH on a speed
limit of fifty.
Tommy threw his arms up while Glen was
wondering if the person in front was perhaps on hard drugs.
“What da fuck is this guy doin’?” Tommy said.
Glen shrugged while both hands were on the
wheel, “Hey, as you said, these people are rich. Perhaps he has somebody
blowing him.”
Tommy chuckled, “Yeah, his wife’s probably a
fat fuckin’ slob, he’s probably got some 19-year-old girl givin’ him road
head.”
“That,
or a nine-year-old boy from Thailand.” Glen added while he looked over his
shoulder to see if he could move around the poor driver, he could and he drove
around. Tommy gave a middle finger salute to the woman driver.
“It’s not a guy, it’s a fat bitch.” Tommy
added.
“A fat bitch that is probably going to call
the cops due to what you did.”
“Yeah, she’s probably calling 911 and saying,
‘some black man just flicked me off.’”
Glen didn’t reply.
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