So last night, after the crap haul, Matthews and me went out for some drinks to wind down. He tells me about this Anti-Calc Coalition that's been talking to Calc hunters in some sponsorship thing. What I want to know is when these people are gonna talk to me about it.
EVERYONE knows when you want some boneys cleared out and done right you call up ol' Jonesy. I suppose they're too busy issuing cease and desist edicts to Hollywood fatcats who like making picture shows that tell goddamn lies about the clinky fuckers. Well, fellas, when you get SERIOUS about getting rid of those Calcs, you just ring me up.
Till then, I've got to check my couch for change to try and get enough cash to buy some hair of the dog and a liter of juice for my dirtbike. Then I'm off to clean out some crappy hole in the ground.
Literally.
I got the mayor over in New Springburg calling me up every half hour complaining about all the rattling sounds coming out of his drain. I swear, I miss the days when these dicks were taking over towns in the Midwest, at least you didn't have to get waist deep in human sewage to crack some skulls.
But, well, my landlord has been yelling at me this week that he's not gonna take 20 dull, rusty knives for rent this month, so I gotta pony up some cash or I'll be living in my van for a while again.
Keep it fleshy.
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