“It’s the only one I got.”
“Don’t give me any of your lip, monk-boy. What are you doing here?”
“I ….uh…don’t know.”
“You don’t know? You better know. I’m a respectable bidnissman, now. Dis here’s my bidniss! Kiki, did the man pay you yet?”
“No Lando.”
“Did he drink any of the Colt 45 in the mini bar? You best not have drank it all up, monk-boy.” He then threatened me with his diamond crusted pimp cane. Naturally, I coward.
“Well, since we got here a non paying customer, looks like I got no other option then to make your ass work it off for me. Kiki, git me one of your small dresses. And grab me one of them 45’s while you’re at it.”
This was looking bad. Trapped god knows where and forced to work for Lando, the purple pimp machine.
What I need is a good rescue. Not just any rescue…I need someone with some street credit….someone with some mad-fly-Jedi skills…someone who’s not afraid to cut off some limbs…someone dope enough to hear my plea…
Hmmm…I wonder what kind of playa’ that could be…?
3 comments:
Where are you at? I'll send Darth Maul to come get you.
*aayla*
ack!Your Aunt....eh...that's okay. Death might not be so bad...
Help you I would, but acting up my corns are.
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