Let’s get real, folks. This film noir has been running for almost five months, and it’s about time we had a gangster here.
The fifth drinker enters the door of our bar with a loud bang, a nasty grin on his face, and a heavy load on his consciousness. Right now he’s up high, and you can tell the number of heads he had to walk over to get there by the amount of karats of the gold on his fingers and the number of wrinkles in his young face. A lot of people do a lot of bad things—it’s my job to know this. Most try to justify themselves, find excuses, pretend they’re good people who have to do bad things. Not this one. Wanna know how he deals with it? He drinks.
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