.
It had been a long and hot day in the city of Stockholm. Markolio had just finished recording an episode of "Dr. Mugg" and took a swing by Råsunda where Zlatan had had a long and cruel day of training. Markolio was sitting in the new Ferrari he had purchased the previous day. He had left the motor running since Zlatan said he would be out in a sec. Markolio glanced over at the exit as Zlatan came walking out. His long wet, glorious hair was shimmering in the wind and his big abs were clearly visible under his wet T-shirt. He walked up to the driver side window, Markolio rolled down the window and Zlatan told him to move the fuck over, it was his car and he should drive it, NOT Markolio. Markolio gladly moved over to the passenger seat since Zlatan had a point, it was Zlatans' car. Markolio would never be able to afford such a car even though his new hit album "Reage på sommarn" had sold platinum. Zlatan swung up the driver side door and got inside the car, as soon as he had closed the door he put the pedal to the metal, they went zooming down the street in 120 Km/h. Markolios' fingers had a firm grip to the seat as he screamed. Zlatan saw the lights from the cop car quickly approaching. Markolio grabbed onto Zlatans' arm and begged him to slow down but Zlatan just shock it off with a blank expression on his face still staring out the front window. Zlatan suddenly snapped out of the hypnotic like state he had been in, he sometimes got like this when he got into a car, no one knew why. He slowed down and stopped by the curb, Markolio loosened his grip on the seat and sat straight up as the cop approached the car. The cop looked in through the window and was about to say something when he realized… it was Zlatan. The cop begged for forgiveness and let them drive away. They drove do their place in Saltsjöbaden. It was a big and beautiful house which was located along the seashore. Markolio kissed Zlatans' masculine lips and stroked his fingers through his hair, one of the best parts with Zlatan according to Markolio was his hair, Markolio could spend hours just rustling his fingers through his hair. They exited the car and stepped into the house. Like most things the house was owned by Zlatan.