You Fool

It was all his fault.

He was the reason why everything ended up the way they did. If he had done as I asked, things would have worked out for the both of us. But because of his constant questioning and reasoning there was no other choice for my actions; I had to make sure that my slate would remain clean and without any blemishes. I had established my reputation after a long period of time.

“You fucking idiot,” I whispered as I looked down at him, our eyes locked in a never-ending stare. I inched a bit closer, noticing the darkened color of his once hazel irises, “Why didn’t you follow my instructions? Everything was perfectly planned out, and you ruined it.”

All of those months of getting everybody onto my side was now in jeopardy. All that time having to suck up to higher management and build a status for myself was on the edge of collapsing. Those countless days off overtime were almost for nothing. And Russell was to blame for everything going to shit.

Seeing him laid out on the ground beneath me, just lying there stiff as a board, I couldn’t control myself when my fingers caressed his still warm cheek. I moved his head from one side to the other and back, taking note of any suspicious marks and cuts on him. Outside of the normal cuts from a weekly shave, there wasn’t anything too visible. Except for the red marks around his now pale neck.

“We can’t let others see you now, can we? They’ll think something physical went down.”

Thankfully I had more than enough tools to deal with this kind of situation. I knew that learning how to powder my face would eventually have a more practical use.

With only a matter of minutes, I ran into the second floor bathroom and grabbed the small makeup kit inside the medicine cabinet. With the dusting brush in hand and an array of skin tones to choose from I perfectly blended a mixture of different powders to match the skin tone on his neck, a peach-turning-pale color. Just to be on the safe side, I started covering any kind of mark that would indicate some kind of struggle whether it was new or not.

“Beautiful.” I mumbled as I admired my work. The red marks around his neck were now artfully masked by makeup, now invisible to the naked eye. Thankfully the makeup was a new organic blends of cosmetics I’ve started using, which world mean it would be even harder for police and coroners to detect after a set amount of time. Better for me.

I took a few steps back and overlooked Russell and his stiffened glory. The one arm he had up trying to defend himself with was slowly descending to the ground. I sped up the process by carefully lowering the limb to his side, making sure rigor mortis didn’t fully set in yet.


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Book Review – Yakuza Moon: Memoirs of a Gangster’s Daughter

Book Review – Yakuza Moon: Memoirs of a Gangster’s Daughter

Organized crime, forceful loan sharks and debt collectors, drug deals gone wrong. These are some of the things people think of when they hear the work “yakuza.” Often depicted on the large screen as well-dressed men who want to rise up through the ranks, those who call themselves yakuza are part of Japan’s organized crime ring, involving themselves in various kinds of criminal activities that would lead them to doing heavy jail time if caught or sold out. However, even when heavily involved in the underworld of crime, many of them still paid attention to their lives outside of the ring.

Yakuza Moon: Memoirs of a Gangster’s Daughter is a woman’s life story during the 70’s and 80’s of Japan how her life changed all because she was the daughter of a yakuza boss. Ever since she was just a child, Shoko Tendo had to deal with the lifestyle that followed her, from hearing nasty and malicious rumors about her family, being shunned and tormented by both students and teachers while she was at school, and enduring the countless abuse from those she loved, including her own father. In her early teenage years Tendo told the story of her rebellious and delinquent ways as a yanki, and her experiences getting high off of paint thinner and hard drugs. As she got older, her life would seem to be on the right track to improvement, but then reality would hit her in the face, literally, in the form of various kinds of abuse she endured from different men.

Tendo left nothing to the imagination, getting right to the point when she shared her experiences, both the heart-warming and the dirty and gritty. Her writing style is raw and harsh, often going into detail about events that would make one’s shoulder shudder and send an icy cold tinge through their body. Many who’ve read it found it uncomfortable to read at times because Tendo practically took her life and written it onto paper, but that’s what kept me wanting to read more. From describing how debt collectors came by and destroyed her childhood home, to the bloodied, bruised and scared damaged she suffered at the hands of her lovers, those who like reading about one’s journey from hell and back will truly enjoy Tendo’s tale.

It was the height of summer, and there were days when the heat was enough to melt the asphalt on the street. The heavies sent by the loan sharks couldn’t care less. They ripped out all the air-conditioning units in the house and piled them up in the garbage along with a bunch of other household appliances, all in full view of the neighbors, of course. Our large-sized American refrigerator was left lying on its side, its doors hanging open to reveal nothing but empty white racks. The wooden parquet floors were so damaged that they didn’t lie flat anymore, creating a kind of bizarre optical illusion that the ground was moving.

Every day without fail, the debt collectors would fling open our doors or windows and yell in at us. I knew there was no point in arguing, but one day I cracked under the pressure. After one thug had just hurled a string of abuse at my mother, I brought my fist crashing down on the kitchen table.

“Who the hell do you think you’re threatening? If you keep on talking to my parents like that, you stupid assholes, then that’s it.”

“Fucking kid!” he spat back.

So this was what is was like to have no money. I wanted to cry with frustration.

Without wanting to give away major points and details about the emotional and complex life, the moment Tendo decided to have a tattoo done by a traditional Japanese tattoo artists, that’s the moment when she took her life in her hands and began to take control, not letting her past come and haunt her anymore. Accompanying the book are photographs submitted by Tendo herself, giving us a small window on what parts of her life actually looked like, including a photo of her tattoo.

After reading Yakuza Moon, it personally gave me a deeper understanding about exactly what kind of life a yakuza would be involved in, and what kind of torment and suffering their family may have to go through.

Yakuza Moon: Memories of a Gangster’s Daughter by Shoko Tendo is available for purchase on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other major bookstore. For those who like visuals and images, there is also a manga/graphic novel adaptation of Tendo’s life story. Regardless of which one is purchased, it’s still well worth the read.

(Image from Amazon.com)

May Note – 5/21/2018

It’s officially spring, y’all! Do you know what that means? It’s fucking allergy season. Be prepared to hear a whole lot of stuffy nose blowing, dramatic sneezing that can’t be faked, and bloodshot eyes that makes people look demonic.

I personally suffer from year-round allergies, but spring is when it all flares up. And believe me, IT SUCKS.

But enough about snot and boogers. It’s another monthly update, and I’m here just to share my progress on some stuff. First and foremost, I’ve officially started a new erotic story that I plan to update every Saturday, if I manage to get the chapter done by then. For those who haven’t been keeping up with my unusual post releases, The series is called “Don’t You Remember?” and it follows a woman named Sara. After waking up in the bed with a mysterious woman, Sara tries to retrace her footsteps to figure out just what the hell happened and how she ended up there. Yes, it may be a bit cliche, but hey, I’m trying. Part One is ready to read, and Part Two was recently posted on Saturday, May 19th. Feel free to take a look if you’re into that kind of stuff.

Second. I more or less have the next chapter of Alex and Sam finished. I just have to do some editing and change some things around, and it’ll be ready for you guys to read. I’m still trying to figure out if I want to change a few details, not really about Alex and Sam as characters, but more or less about certain details, like where they live and other characters that appear in the story. But I’ll figure that out eventually.

Third, but not too important so this part is extremely short, I’ve been reading a lot more lately, so every now and then I’ll be posting a review of what I read and will be adding the category “Book Reviews” to the drop down list. I’ll try to add a post for every book I finish, if I remember.

Lastly, I know I’ve said this before, but I really do appreciate everybody who comes and visits this my website. I know I’m terrible when it comes to posting stuff on a regular schedule, but I I’m really grateful for all those who read my work. Many of you have also been around ever since I first started gaining followers, so to know that there’s both new people and returning readers is a major lift to confidence in myself. And I want to thank all of you for that. On the same tone, please, don’t be afraid to leave comments, suggestions, or send me emails just saying “Hi” or whatever. I really like hearing about your opinions and any questions you guys may have. However, if I have likes on my stories and nobody going bat-shit crazy over tiny error and grammatical mistakes, I must be doing something, right? I didn’t go to college or anything and I’m more-or-less self-teaching myself grammar, so I’m sure I’m making mistakes left and right. Regardless, don’t be afraid to let me know about things you liked, things you didn’t like, things you want to see more off, etc. In case you want to email me, my contact and social information are here at the Contact Luka page.

Well, that’s all for now. I hope you all enjoy the rest of your day, or night depending on when you’re reading this.

Don’t You Remember? (Part Two) [18+]

I was still trying to piece together the events of last night. Everything is still a blur, but I need to at least know how things happened. As much as I don’t want to, I’ll have to keep everything a secret from Samuel, my boyfriend. 

It was still surprising that I even ended up in bed with somebody else. Maybe Toni remembers something that I don’t. Wait, did I even see her last night?

Damn, I really can’t remember. Well, fuck it for now. Let me just ease up at home, try and get some sleep. Hopefully that will help bring things back to me. 

That’s how I’m going to keep last night a secret.

I gave Samuel another kiss on his cheek before breaking away and walking down the hallway to the back of the apartment, “Yeah. Toni went shopping earlier this week.”

I couldn’t help showing a coy smile at him, “Hey there, big man. You trying to spy on me while I’m showering, huh?”

Don’t You Remember? (Part One) [18+]

Something’s not right. Last night is all a blur, I don’t know how the hell I ended up here, and I sure as hell know I need to get out of here. My entire body felt like shit and it’s hard for me to wake up.

Then again, based on the way things are, do I really want to wake up? If I do, then that means that all of this stuff was real. More importantly, how am I going to explain all of this to my boyfriend? 

He’s won’t like this.

I didn’t get a response. He was probably still in a deep sleep, considering the fact that I could yell right in his ear and he still wouldn’t wake up.

My stomach sank as everything started clicking in my mind like a puzzle. I had to lean over and keep my head in my hands to try and think.

“Thank you for last night. I had a lot of fun with you.”

Totally Not Sleight-of-Hand

He kept looking at me with those golden brown eyes of his, just watching me with such intensity and intrigue. His eyebrow kept going up and down in a pattern as if he’s trying to give me some kind of signal. Even though I’m looking straight at his, my mind is off wandering someplace else, stuck on his previous attempt on trying to wow me with his “special talent.”

I looked back down on the small, round table in front of us, glancing at the deck of card spread out across the surface. Out of the entire fifty-two deck, only one card is face-up: the queen of hearts. I shuffled that deck at least four times, each time using a different method, I thought to myself. He even turned away while I picked the card, and shuffled it. There has to be some kind of strange prank going on, but I can’t figure it out.

“Well, missy,” Eric began with a cocky tone, “you figured out how I did that?”

I kept my eyes glued to the card just for a moment longer before letting out a sigh, shaking my head, and putting on a small smile, “I don’t know how the hell you did it. But yes, that’s my card.”

Eric laughed, probably at me finally letting down my wall of stubbornness. Ever since I was a kid, I never really believed in the whole idea of magic and magicians. As I grew older, I saw a bunch of different tricks being debunked before my eyes, thus only furthering my disbelief. However, all of those times in the past, I was never the participant in a person’s display of “magic.” In this case, being asked out on a date by a so-called magician was the perfect chance to experience it with my own eyes.

Watching him do his tricked spurred up a small interest in seeing what else he could do. I lean back in my seat, a shoulder propped on the back to keep me balanced. “Alright, Mister Magician Man. What else can you do to convince me that magic is real and not just a bunch of sleight of hand stuff?”

Still cocky, Eric chuckled and leaned forward on the table, eyeing me as if I challenged him, “Oh, I have a lot more I can show you. But, I’ll convince you using one of my favorite talents.”

“And what would that be?”

“I can get your wallet without leaving my seat.”

How could that even be possible, I questioned in my head. My wallet is all the way inside my jean pocket, and we’re sitting on opposite ends of the table.

Subcoiously, I slid my hand into my pocket just to make sure my wallet was where it should be. And it was. Pressed against my thigh in my jeans. I gave Eric a smug-ass smile and said, “Try me.”

Eric readied himself by sitting up in his seat and adjusting the small black tie around the collar of his shirt. Informing me that this next trick would require my help, he took off his dark blue blazer and placed it on top of the table.

He gave me a few instructions as he began the trick, “What I want you to do is think about your wallet. When you have a clear image of it in your mind, I want you to reach into one of my jacket sleeves and feel around for something.”

“That’s it? Seems simple enough.”

There’s no way he could possibly convince me that magic exists. He’s just toying with me to make me look stupid.

Looking directly at Eric, just to make sure he doesn’t try to slip under the table, I put a clear visual in my head about my wallet; it’s a plain, light blue open wallet with a small chain attached around one of the flaps. Without telling him what it looks like, I followed his instructions and reached into one of the sleeves of his blazer and felt around.

At first, all I could feel was the sleek, silk lining of the heavy jacket, cool to the touch no matter how long he had it on. As I went further up the sleeve I started to feel a collection of tiny metal links forming a chain. I froze.

No, this is just a trick. He made me think about my wallet beforehand. My mind is just playing with me, making me think that I actually feel it in the sleeve. I shook my head and continued. With my free hand, I put it over my pocket just to make sure my wallet was still there.

But there was no bulge. Nothing was pressing against my thigh.


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— via Daily Prompt: Sleeve

Way of the Dark Arts

Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have magical abilities? Did you ever want to master pyromancy and set ablaze the place that was once your sanctuary, but is now a land of cursed memories? Do you know how quickly you can make somebody die from hypothermia if you could encase them in a block of solid ice? Why walk through a forest in the dark when you can shock a corpse and turn it into a usable source of light?

The possibilities for magic is endless. And Salnia is here for me to bestow upon her the element of her choice; she’s been begging me for days to take her under my wing as my apprentice Primal Witch.

“Take up your catalyst,” I command her, “and show me just what you plan on doing with your newfound power.”

From the bottom of the steps to my throne, Salnia eagerly looks at me as she raises her hand, “I have already brought my catalyst, my Mistress! It is one that I shall make sure to constantly carry with me at all times.”

Why does she have her hand up? I question to myself. I inch forward a bit from my throne of human carcasses, taking note of a faint, gold shimmering effect around one of Salnia’s fingers. Curiositiy takes hold of me as I approach, the skeletal steps cracking underneath my feet.

“What catalyst have you already selected for yourself? What are you willing to sacrifice in order to unlock your latent powers?”

I grab Salnia’s hand and keep it open, palm side up. Aged scaring and slashes are prominent all across her entire palm, irregularities in healed skin showing how many times one spot was cut open. A golden ring is loosely wrapped around her ring finger; there’s a name engraved on its underside, but there’s a scratch across it, making it completely illegible. I don’t hesitate to take the ring off to get a better evaluation of it.

“This ring seems to have gone through some wear and tear, has it not?” I ask.

Salina nods as she confirms, “Yes. It is the ring given to me on my wedding day. That was quite some time ago…”

“And you want to make this your catalyst. Why is that?”

“That ring has nothing but evil and malicious memories tied to it, memories that I will never be able to forget.” Salina gets up from her kneeling pose and stands up straight in front of me. When I look into her eyes, I can see a growing darkness emerging from within. “And I shall use those memories as my fuel for learning the kind of magic I intend on mastering.”

The talk of evil and darkness, using bad memories as her fuel for mastering magic. She’s using a gift of her from a time she one lived in bliss and happiness, but the marks on her hand tell the opposite. I can’t help but smile when I have an idea of what kind of magic my new apprentice would like to study.

I put the ring back on her finger as I ask one final question, “Salina, my future Primal Witch apprentice. What kind of magic and sorcery have to decided on to learn? Shout out your purpose and I shall decide if your intentions are worthy enough of my time and effort.”

Salina closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath to clear her mind. Her eyes focused on mine and her hands clutched, she yells out, “Show me the way of abysmal magic so I can torture my husband in the afterlife!”


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— via Daily Prompt: Bestow

April Note – 4/23/2018

Is it too late to file my taxes?

Well, yes it is. Unless I file for an extension, but even then, I wouldn’t know how to go about it… Wait, ignore all that. Forgot I filed like last week.

Happy April, everybody. I hope your month has been full of cool, spring weather, where all you need is a light jacket when you want to take your casual stroll around town just for the fun of it. The trees are starting to get their bloom sessions started, the sun is staying out longer so now it won’t be dark at four in the afternoon, and the nice breezes are relaxing to be caught in.

Hopefully, for those who have the stressful daily routine of doing the usual nine-to-five grind (or maybe it’s a three-to-eleven, I don’t know your guys’ schedules) haven’t had too much drama or an unwanted increase in workload at the office. As for me, the constant fixing of checking peoples’ work for errors and forced to fix them before they’re sent out to customers is starting to take a toll on me. The increasing volume of a boss gone rouge and mad with power just puts me in a bad mood whenever I hear it, even if I’m not the intended target. The tight, gut-sucking walkways are way more narrow than they should be, making it even harder just to walk around. To sum up: it’s starting to suck way more.

But I need a job, so I gotta deal with it. ‘Tis my tale.

Ok, enough about me complaining. Onward to the writing stuff.

I’ve been experimenting with my style of writing, trying to fine-tune it and figure out exactly how I want to write my stories. I’ve come to notice that I swap between two different styles based on what genre I’m writing, which I don’t think is too bad. As long as I’m able to keep the story moving, I guess it’s okay.

I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated the more constant series I’ve been working, mostly Alex and Sam’s Daily Life  and Legends of the Dark, and I want to change that either by the end of April or in the beginning of May. I’ve been having a build-up of ideas and it’s time for me to finally put them to paper. So be on the lookout for new updates from them!

I’ve also decided that I’m mostly going to post new things on a Monday-to-Friday basis, trying to keep the weekend posting to a minimum. I’ll still post on Saturdays and Sundays, but probably for like quick drabbles or flash-fiction stuff. I want to use the weekends to better prepare myself for the next week of posting.

Welp, that’s all for now. I hope you all have a smooth sailing through the rest of April!


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Display of Honor

The crowd standing below me are all yelling and chanting in a frenzy, just waiting for the final verdict to be given. It has been quite some time since the last public display of force, so I can understand why they’re all so anxious to see what kind of verdict they’re expecting. However, based on the way the crowd are acting, I can tell they want everything to end violently.

“Bash his filthy skull into the pavement!”

“Don’t give him a chance to try and defend himself; he knows he did wrong!”

“Show the splatter on the mallet afterwards!”

I’ve come to appreciate the bloodlust emanating from the townspeople. But their desire is little to none when compared to my own. Ready to let this come to an end, I carefully pushed myself up from my throne and stepped up to the end of the balcony, “My fellow Tavarian people. It is time.”

The excitement of the crowd skyrocketed when they heard my voice call out to them. In almost perfect unison they all turned back towards the castle wall and gazed upward at me, cheering and applauding at my entrance. They start begging for me to give the final verdict as their anticipation is nearing its peak. Although I already knew how today’s display will end, I wanted to tease them just a bit longer.

“Before I give my verdict,” I started, “I understand the Warden would like to make sure everybody is on the same page.” Slowly raising my hand, I point towards the ironclad figure standing on the wooden stage in the center of the courtyard. Next to him is a man, bound by his wrists and ankles, thrown to his knees, and his head hanging off the edge of a stone display. “Warden, would you please.”

Placing his gauntleted fist across his chest, the Warden gave a slight bow before speaking, “Thank you, your Highness.” In a proud display of honor, the Warden then banged on his chest, the chest-plate ringing loudly across the yard, as he roared, “For Tavaria!”

The crowd let out a roar of their own, repeating over and over “For the honor of Tavaria, for the pride of Tavarian might!”

“Tavarian might is absolute. Tavarian honor submits to none,” I whispered under my breath. I felt the blazing energy from the crowd resting in my chest, but I had to keep myself under control; a queen does have their own honor to uphold at times.

The Warden couldn’t help but laugh with glee at the people, feeling joyous at the strong display from the people of Tavaria. However, he knew that this gathering wasn’t to boast, but to punish. He raised his hand and said, “At ease, all. Let us proceed with today’s event.”

Screwdriver

“Tell me, Mr. Hudson. What goes on in that thick skull of yours? You seem to the be type of person who lets their mind wander about all day and night. Or, perhaps you just do that to help you forget the worries and stressful nature of your daily life.”

Ezekial kept up his casual, back and forth pacing in the darkened room. Even with just a single, low-hanging light bulb in the center of the room, he could catch the glimmering of the various tools scattered along the ground. He picked up a small hammer, eyeing the light layer of rust on the top of the claw – the part that helps take out nails, “This could be useful. I should go through all my options first.”

Without looking behind him, Ezekial lobbed the rusty hammer over his shoulder. Before hearing the sound of crashing metal, the screaming of a man came from behind him. Ezekial’s skin hardened full of goosebumps as the man continued screaming for a bit longer; sobs and pleading started replacing the scream.

“Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you?”

Ezekial came to a sudden halt, “‘What have I ever done to you?’ You really don’t know why I brought you here? Are you that fucking dense?”

With his face buried in his hands, Ezekial took a moment to to breath, about to let out a scream of his own, but the only thing that came out was a loud, exhausted sigh. Part of him couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of this man’s mouth. It just made him more angry, wanting to put all of this behind him. However, Ezekial didn’t want to just finish his current job; he wanted to relish and enjoy the sight a bit longer before bringing it all to an end. He looked down in front of him and saw a broken screwdriver, the head of it gone, leaving a razor-edge point in place.

Ezekial juggled the screwdriver in his hand as he turned to face the man. Placed under the light bulb in the center of the room sat a wounded man, chained and bound by his wrists, ankles and chest. Gashes and bruises mark the marked the man’s entire body, blood tricked down and formed a small pool around his feet. Chunks of his grey hair are gone, like somebody has been dragging him by the scalp.

The man could barely keep his head up to look at Ezekial. His strength reserves were near its end, and he wanted to try and use whatever he had left to try and survive the torture he was expecting to happen.

Seeing the injured man put a strange gurgling sensation in the center of Ezekial’s stomach. It was a very familiar sensation he’s come to recognize after years and years of giving into his hobby. He’s managed to see a bunch of the people who he’s had conflict with in the past and managed to find closure. Today was no different.

He crept up to Nathan, the man bound to the chair. With his free hand, Ezekial grabbed him by a clump of his hair and forced him to look up. Seeing Nathan’s bulky neck, the broken screwdriver pressed against his windpipe, just moments away from piercing straight through it with enough force.

“Nathan Hudson. Born in September of 1972. Graduated top of his class in high school and got a full scholarship to Uni of Nevada. You had it all.”

“How do you know all of this about me…?”

Ezekial’s face was covered in a frown full of hate, “I have my sources. But don’t fret. You won’t be missed.”


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— via Daily Prompt: Fret

Coroner’s Opinion

“What do you think happened here, Boss?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure myself. I’ve never seen anything like this before. And on top of that, the evidence found at the crime scene isn’t even giving us some kind of clue as to what could do harm like this.”

“Edged weapons could easily do cuts and slashes like this though.”

“These kind of slashes are too clean–there’s no way somebody could have tore through skin and bone so easily. Besides, the cut isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.”

“You’re talking about the strange, green liquid around the edge of where the limb was cut?”

“Yeah. It would be easy enough to say that it’s just splash splatter from something breaking, but the fact that it’s around the injury, it makes me wonder if the edged weapon was laced with something. I mean, look at it: it’s fucking glowing on a cold corpse. There’s no way this is something naturally occurring.”

“We’ll just have to wait until the fluid samples come back then, Boss.”

“In my twenty years of working as a coroner, I’ve seen countless kinds of cases where somebody was slashed to death. All of them were easily identifiable based on the depth of the stab wound and the puncture site itself. But to see an entire limb cut clean off and see a strange ring around it, I honestly can’t figure this out. I almost want to say that whatever did it isn’t even human.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is, we may not be dealing with a murder, but a hunter-prey thing.”


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— via Daily Prompt: Luminescent

Wine-Made-Molotov

Nobody likes a person who’s always thinking that the world revolves around them, that everything they do is the real-life version of perfection. They’ll always try to convince others that they’re the one who’s wrong and will fight just to prove a false point.

However, there are certain people who have no good proof that they’re even usable or reliable. Their constant mistakes only drag on and make certain things more difficult than it should be. And the person would even continue and try to say that they can do wrong.

When faced with the wrong person, the perfectionist will be faced with the result of their self-centered ego.

Something like that doesn’t take priority at the moment. Somebody else can take care of it.

The sounds of papers shuffling echos at the end of the aisle as he carefully turns around to avoid hitting the wine bottles organized on the wall rack. The bright ceiling light illuminates the thick, bushy facial hair hanging from the bottom of his chin.

Every time I see this mother fucker, I just wanna punch him straight in the face.