The goon pats me down and finds the oyster knife taped to my coccyx. “Thought you said you was unarmed,” he says, voice like a broken down retard factory.
“I said that because I didn’t want you to know I had a knife,” I say. “In case I needed to stab you?”
“I thought we was friends.”
“We are friends! We hugged like ten seconds ago!”
“Yeah but I just feel like you feel like it’s a chore. The hugging.”
“I maybe had other things on my mind, didn’t put my all into it.”
“These days seems like you always got other things on your mind.”
“You wanna try again? Let’s try again.”
The goon and I embrace and it’s nice. He says: “OK, go on in. Empress Elderballs ain’t like to be kept waiting.”
