It was 4 hours past midnight... and I needed another beer

I looked around at the bodies around me. Alright, which one of you assholes has some money for me. I see my target, jumped the railing and with one fatal swoop of my hand, like a hammer, the guy's eyes exploded and his body fell to the floor. I stood over him as the place fell silent. I grabbed at his pocket and retrieved his wallet. Sixty eight dollars in cash, a credit card with a $5000 spending limit, a debit card... pin number... 4589. Account balance $18,425.72.

Good catch. I could smell the evil of defecated money burning in his very veins... You scum... You wealthy scum.
I heard a small gasp behind me, the people are starting to come to and realize what they just witnessed. I jumped through the full size french window from the second floor, landed squarely, and was camouflaged into the night from thence forth.

And yet, I feel I might have forgotten the beer.



It's a hard task to try to convey a story told in a different language. You leave them right at the start with too many questions that need answers. But what is significant? How do you make some things front page news worthy, and some things left in the dust to rot?
Checking in with my latest insight counselor, I find he is drab and paints a fine picture of me.

Precision Lasers. The quest to slice my eye open.


disgrace.bend.rally

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resist



Sudoku Mother Fuckers