“Jerry I need some help man! Shit just hit the
fucking fan, and I’m fucking covered”
“Whoa slow the fuck down Tony, didn’t
I make it very fucking clear that I hate calls in the god damn morning?!”
“I know, I know Jerry, but..”
“Shut your big fucking mouth for a
minute Tony. Now you listen to me and you better open your god damn ears
because I swear on your mother’s life I will drown you in a fucking vat full of
shit, if this shit ain’t worth ruining my beauty sleep”
“It’s Antoine! He got away and took
Samantha with him”
“Jesus Tony, I told you to murder
that piece of shit last week! Why the fuck would are you telling me this now?”
“Cause Jerry, you’re the only one I
can go to, I can’t go to the police! You know how it is; I’ll tell you when you
get over here”
“Yeah… maybe you’re right Tony. Whatever you do don’t you fucking go to the
police. Where are you?”
“I’m at the old barn off Claire”
“I’ll be there in 15”
I jump out of bed to have my morning
vitamin and I’m ready to fucking go. If this was any other morning I’d be
making myself the best scrambled eggs and toast that only I have had the luxury
of trying, because I make the best fucking scrambled eggs and toast. Since this
is not like any other morning I didn’t have time to make myself some scrambled
eggs, and I’m usually a miserable fuck when I don’t get to have my fucking
eggs. What’s even worse is of all the days, it had to be a Monday that Tony had
to call me up at 630 in the morning. That’s the second thing I really hate.
Waking up when I’m busy fucking some bitch in my sleep, only to be interrupted
by a fucking finger in the ass that is my phone. I never have had a better dream till right then and I probably won't get to have another because Tony's fucking fan managed to launch shit, all over my fucking imagination.
Anyways... I get
in my piece of shit car and drive down the barn house. The place got raided
about 3 years ago. I used to cut coke down there since it was a good spot... Well
hidden... And it’s far away enough for nobody to hear a shotgun blast to Tony’s
hollow skull. I’m sure Samantha was pleading to leave with Antoine. Sure the
guy was a piece of shit but he could at least stick to a fucking plan and
execute it perfectly. After I do the world a favour and give the barn house a
fucking paintjob Antoine’s going to be the only thing on my mind, but I can’t
let that cloud my judgment, not now. He knows I want him dead. Maybe I can cut
him a fucking deal, money doesn’t seem to be the problem in this line of
business.
