See, like this guy, right? He callz me, he says he-y-y-y I need some gutters, the whole street, we are like family. Lots of work will come my way if you give me numba one deal.
From prior experience I know he may be right as those types tend to be even more pack and herd-like then the average '
American ' citizen. There was this one tract in Little Saigon. I marketed well and nagged 87 out of 153 homes for my product. Not bad for the after market. There was a running theme aside from the fact they all paid cash.
We began our work and everything was cool. I had over looked the fact that he had pulled out paperwork from a cousins house I had worked on seven years ago. He had wanted me to not match, but beat the price. I had eaten my incredulity. Every dollar that came to me hand went to food in my mouth. Bread on the table, as it were.
I hadn't paid a lot of attention to stories of The Fawleri on television. The zombies roamed in packs..., news at two eleven...yadda yadda.
So this guy, he was like following me around watching every move incessantly as I worked on his house. All the while it worked on me, he hadn't offered me a drink, he hadn't asked if my helper or me needed to use the bathroom. He asked me to grovel; to do work for wages I used to pay my helpers and God damn him, " Me fuck yoo woo time? " he says.
" What? " I ask. I had a sore on my leg from the fires. It itched.
" Me. Fuck woo yoo time? " he says again, enunciating every word.
I realize he is asking me if he has fucked with my time. He sees the look of realization on my face bursts out laughing, He has fucked with my time.
He laughs. Or giggles.
I pulled my claw hammer out and bashed his skull open.
Sweet. Meat had never tasted so good.
Sweet meat.
sweat...meat....
The week before we had been on our way from Las Vegas to L.A. and some crazy guys in a humvee had had some sort of water gun and they had sprayed us down. Ever since then my skin had itched and I was hungry all the time. I couldn't sleep.
I don't want to talk much about the road between L.A. and Vegas. At that point the soldiers wouldn't let us go forward or back and then helicopter gunships...strafed the crowd. We saw one American jet and then the helicopter left. Then the humvee came. There was a guy on the turret he sprayed the column with a fluid we all thought it was water. It made our skin tingle.
Then the fires started and a lot of the refugees burned...
Spoiler (highlight to read):
http://forums.bf2s.com/viewtopic.php?id=124096
From prior experience I know he may be right as those types tend to be even more pack and herd-like then the average '
American ' citizen. There was this one tract in Little Saigon. I marketed well and nagged 87 out of 153 homes for my product. Not bad for the after market. There was a running theme aside from the fact they all paid cash.
We began our work and everything was cool. I had over looked the fact that he had pulled out paperwork from a cousins house I had worked on seven years ago. He had wanted me to not match, but beat the price. I had eaten my incredulity. Every dollar that came to me hand went to food in my mouth. Bread on the table, as it were.
I hadn't paid a lot of attention to stories of The Fawleri on television. The zombies roamed in packs..., news at two eleven...yadda yadda.
So this guy, he was like following me around watching every move incessantly as I worked on his house. All the while it worked on me, he hadn't offered me a drink, he hadn't asked if my helper or me needed to use the bathroom. He asked me to grovel; to do work for wages I used to pay my helpers and God damn him, " Me fuck yoo woo time? " he says.
" What? " I ask. I had a sore on my leg from the fires. It itched.
" Me. Fuck woo yoo time? " he says again, enunciating every word.
I realize he is asking me if he has fucked with my time. He sees the look of realization on my face bursts out laughing, He has fucked with my time.
He laughs. Or giggles.
I pulled my claw hammer out and bashed his skull open.
Sweet. Meat had never tasted so good.
Sweet meat.
sweat...meat....
The week before we had been on our way from Las Vegas to L.A. and some crazy guys in a humvee had had some sort of water gun and they had sprayed us down. Ever since then my skin had itched and I was hungry all the time. I couldn't sleep.
I don't want to talk much about the road between L.A. and Vegas. At that point the soldiers wouldn't let us go forward or back and then helicopter gunships...strafed the crowd. We saw one American jet and then the helicopter left. Then the humvee came. There was a guy on the turret he sprayed the column with a fluid we all thought it was water. It made our skin tingle.
Then the fires started and a lot of the refugees burned...
Spoiler (highlight to read):
http://forums.bf2s.com/viewtopic.php?id=124096
Last edited by ATG (2010-07-22 10:32:11)
