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After a last kiss she jumped up and ran to the kitchen and was back with a steaming plate of tuna casserole. I had just put the plate on my table when the doorbell rang. Time for me to go into action."That's probably for me, I'm supposed to be getting some orders about when I have to go back, let me get the door." Because of the way the server pulled up to my house, Vickie hadn't seen the driver. So when I opened the door and a stranger was there with a large manila envelope, Vickie didn't seem. Bullshit and lies most of them. Not worth a dime or a minute's time. Fuckin' mooks making themselves out ter be something they ain't. Billy big-balls' talkin' a crock of shit. Fuckin flapdoodle motherfuckers. Well, I got a story and at the end you judge whether I'm a mook or the real fuckin' deal.Starts in 1982 - with a fine piece of New Jersey ass dancin' on a table....Dolores was stood on the table, red kitten heels, net bodystocking, cascading blonde hair and a sexy pout --me? I was. One day she invited me for lunch. She was alone at home her mother had gone to Delhi. As I reached her place, I rang the bell and there she came. She was looking damn sexy. I entered the house and we sat on the sofa.Let me first describe her. She was fair, she had a lovely figure. Her boobs were 38 and she had a flat tummy. She had a round bubble but. She had pink lips. Her lower lip was a bit bigger and she had a mole on left side of her neck. Coming back to the story.Once we sat she brought. The distinct klak-klak of the bolt on an AK rifle being worked, loading a round in the chamber.Taylor yelled, “DOWN!” and tackled Whitaker, sending them both through the side railing as the ripping sound of automatic gunfire pierced the air, joined by the popping sound of bullets impacting and penetrating through wood.‘It seems they figured out how to modify this to be fully auto too,’ popped into Taylor’s head as he and Whitaker fell off the porch. In the fall, they had twisted and Whitaker.
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