The whole show started with an explosion on the top floor of the H&R Block minimart at the corner of St. Le Bouin and avenue Go. We had explosives in our pockets ready to do the next "Job." I thought to myself, "This job could really turn the whole operation."
"Partner, let's ride this whole crazy thing out in my Lambo while wearing Gucci suits and smoking expensive, very expensive Cigars. I love the smoke billowing when I talk about important things."
"Crime partner, JOE, we are ready to C4 this place on Moscow street DUNKE!"
"Associate, I have my Ferrari outside; you'll notice the candy red sex machine outside the crippling hot Italian Bistro."
"Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmm," the Ferrari says.
I've strapped gun powder to my groin. I can't believe we're not going to Dakha together.
I know. We're losing control. Fast.
Let's keep the speed going even more. Let's hijack a plan at the nearest airport.
Done.
Magical things ensue. Nobody found a way to redeem the beings.
They were all the way to the right. They took on all sorts of stage names.
And wore doll faces.
Eh. Fuckin' fuckin' fuckin' fuck.
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