"What the fuck?" I said, looking at the clock again, but actually
realizing what it said for the first time. "I set this damn thing for six
o'clock!" It was ten, and it still hadn't gone off.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, getting up and searching the room for a shirt and some pants. I made off with some nice khakis and a plain black t-shirt. I scampered out of that lousy flee-ridden rat-hole with my alarm-clock plunged deep into my back trash-bag of guns.
"Here," I said, rushing down the steps and out the door, but managing to throw a fat stack of twenties toward the clerk. "Keep the change."
I ran out the door, keeping my head tilted slightly back to see the reaction on the clerk's face. I wish I could be around to see his reaction when he found out they were fakes, but that would be way too risky. So instead, I hopped into my stolen taxi and fled from the spot, trying to find Papa's Pizza, were I was supposed to meet my connection, John, four hours ago.
When I got there, I was immediately groped at the door for weapons.
"What's in this inside pocket, punk?" asked the muscular man at the front door, feeling around the inside pocket of a jacket I found in the taxi and decided to put on. Wherever I go, I keep a loaded glock as close to my heart as possible, so it was in the jacket.
"It's none of your fucking business, I believe," I said, smacking his hand away from my jacket. "And I'd be wise of you to get out of my way before show you what's in my inside pocket."
"Alright, alright," said the man, clearing a path for me. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why he was scared, but when I got in there, I saw a note in the corner booth, the one we were arranged to meet at. I went over and got it. It was written in a very untidy scrawl - an affect of illiteracy, I assumed.
Jim, It's about 7:01. You were saposed to be here at 6. I'll give your ass one more chance. Meet me at the beech on the bench at about 11:30. Fuck up this time and it'll be your ass.
Sincerely,
-John
His letter was so heart-warming that I decided to take a jolly old dough-nut with me to meet the bum. Only problem was, I had an hour to kill. So I put together that it was 10:30, and it took about fifteen minutes to get to the beach from here. As I pondered what to do, I decided to eat his dough-nut.
I wasted some time in the diner for a little bit, flirting with the waitresses. I got the number of one - might come in handy sometime, if you know what I mean. So, I went and hopped into the cab, and went down the block a bit, trying to stay near the beach, just in case.
I pulled up the shiny cobble-stone street, down a mucky little stretch right by the beach. I passed by the Pole-Position (a strip club that had expanded from Liberty over to Vice City) and found a nice little clothing shop. I pulled over, examined my clothes a little, and decided I could use a change of costume.
I got out of the cab and took a quick glance at my watch. 11:00. I opened up the shop doors and was immediately spotted by a nosy little shop assistant, or whatever they're supposed to be called.
"Hello!" he shrieked in a shrill voice that made my eyes shut with discomfort. "What can I help you with today?"
"Well," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "The first thing you can do is get the fuck out of my way." At this, he gave me a sideward glance and walked away haughtily.
I picked out a nice new denim jacket, so I could ditch this old rag. Then I admired my shoes for a second, and decided I could use some nice black suede shoes. I figured that was all I'd need for today, and passed the guy at the desk a stake of fake twenties and walked out, without taking a backwards glance.
I hopped into the cab, and started her up, while looking at my watch. 11:26. I pulled away from the shop, past the Pole Position, up the street, and onto the beach to wait on the bench. 11:30.
See you next chapter, -Jim
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, getting up and searching the room for a shirt and some pants. I made off with some nice khakis and a plain black t-shirt. I scampered out of that lousy flee-ridden rat-hole with my alarm-clock plunged deep into my back trash-bag of guns.
"Here," I said, rushing down the steps and out the door, but managing to throw a fat stack of twenties toward the clerk. "Keep the change."
I ran out the door, keeping my head tilted slightly back to see the reaction on the clerk's face. I wish I could be around to see his reaction when he found out they were fakes, but that would be way too risky. So instead, I hopped into my stolen taxi and fled from the spot, trying to find Papa's Pizza, were I was supposed to meet my connection, John, four hours ago.
When I got there, I was immediately groped at the door for weapons.
"What's in this inside pocket, punk?" asked the muscular man at the front door, feeling around the inside pocket of a jacket I found in the taxi and decided to put on. Wherever I go, I keep a loaded glock as close to my heart as possible, so it was in the jacket.
"It's none of your fucking business, I believe," I said, smacking his hand away from my jacket. "And I'd be wise of you to get out of my way before show you what's in my inside pocket."
"Alright, alright," said the man, clearing a path for me. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why he was scared, but when I got in there, I saw a note in the corner booth, the one we were arranged to meet at. I went over and got it. It was written in a very untidy scrawl - an affect of illiteracy, I assumed.
Jim, It's about 7:01. You were saposed to be here at 6. I'll give your ass one more chance. Meet me at the beech on the bench at about 11:30. Fuck up this time and it'll be your ass.
Sincerely,
-John
His letter was so heart-warming that I decided to take a jolly old dough-nut with me to meet the bum. Only problem was, I had an hour to kill. So I put together that it was 10:30, and it took about fifteen minutes to get to the beach from here. As I pondered what to do, I decided to eat his dough-nut.
I wasted some time in the diner for a little bit, flirting with the waitresses. I got the number of one - might come in handy sometime, if you know what I mean. So, I went and hopped into the cab, and went down the block a bit, trying to stay near the beach, just in case.
I pulled up the shiny cobble-stone street, down a mucky little stretch right by the beach. I passed by the Pole-Position (a strip club that had expanded from Liberty over to Vice City) and found a nice little clothing shop. I pulled over, examined my clothes a little, and decided I could use a change of costume.
I got out of the cab and took a quick glance at my watch. 11:00. I opened up the shop doors and was immediately spotted by a nosy little shop assistant, or whatever they're supposed to be called.
"Hello!" he shrieked in a shrill voice that made my eyes shut with discomfort. "What can I help you with today?"
"Well," I said, looking him straight in the eye. "The first thing you can do is get the fuck out of my way." At this, he gave me a sideward glance and walked away haughtily.
I picked out a nice new denim jacket, so I could ditch this old rag. Then I admired my shoes for a second, and decided I could use some nice black suede shoes. I figured that was all I'd need for today, and passed the guy at the desk a stake of fake twenties and walked out, without taking a backwards glance.
I hopped into the cab, and started her up, while looking at my watch. 11:26. I pulled away from the shop, past the Pole Position, up the street, and onto the beach to wait on the bench. 11:30.
See you next chapter, -Jim