contact;

[pinkeffinprofessional]

If you don't know who the fuck you're trying to reach, then hang up the fucking phone. If not, leave a message. Try to make it snappy, will you?

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Comments

[whitetwoguns]

[There's age too though. What the fuck would mother's think taking him on home. At least with Pink they're more likely to know what they're in for.]

They make do. So do we.

[Okay. Business. He wants a lap dance. Some gal with big jugs.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

['Here's an older guy who can provide for my daughter.'

Pink shrugs]

Would be easier with paper money's all I'm saying.

[He tips strippers. They earn it, okay?]

[whitetwoguns]

I'll give you that.

[Here's a gal up his alley. Larry beckons her forward. She tosses her long brown hair and slinks on over in her red bikini.]

Wanna dance, Daddy-o?

Sure do....my friend here, wouldn't mind one of his own.

[See, Pink? He's thinking of you. Manly bonding, no talking.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

I'm all for a dance.

[See he's being polite. She signals another girl over, and well. Manly bonding for a while. No talking.

But all good things must end]

[whitetwoguns]

[Dance done. Yikes. It's a pleasant time. Really. She smelled like berries and cream. Her hair was soft too. Now and then she'd rub up on him. Great to know that the opposite sex still does something for him in a big way.]

Good choice coming here.

[The drinks are pretty fine too!]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[Pink takes a cigarette and lights up, because when was the last time he had a good lap dance?]

Sure.

So where's Orange?

[You knew this had to be coming, White.]

[whitetwoguns]

I don't know. It's not my business to know.

[There. Is that good enough. Larry combs his fingers through his own hair. Another long sip of his drink.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[HOLD UP.]

You guys fighting?

[whitetwoguns]

No.

[And no. We're not gonna have to keep going. This is it. That's how he's answering it.]

Not anymore.

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[COCKROACH IS A COCKROACH]

Shit.

[whitetwoguns]

Don't tell Blonde or I'll kill you.

[As casual as can be now he sets his drink on the table and gets another cigarette.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Hey, I don't talk about you or Orange with Blonde. My conversations with Blonde don't involve anything of substance. The asshole is crazy.

[whitetwoguns]

[Attaboy, Pink. Redeem yourself in the next few seconds. Flick of his lighter.]

We could have told you that if you'd have listened.

[Buuut he didn't so.]

He's sure not to be trusted.

[Let's keep talking about that. Not Orange.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

I haven't given him his diamonds.

[whitetwoguns]

Hole it up. Keep it away. For the best, I think.

[Shit what a mess. He hasn't thought about the diamonds yet. For a man that ran on back to get them in the desert, he really has fallen on his own sword there.

Freddy's got no big reason now to keep loyalties, does he? No, old man. He wouldn't do that. Not here. And not like that. More booze and nicotine plz.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Yeah, well. Hopefully he forgets that shit.

[He takes a drink. He hopes Blonde forgets because Blonde probably wouldn't hesitate to kill Pink's cat, who guards the diamonds, as they are currently sitting under the floorboard where the cat's bed is on top of.]

[whitetwoguns]

He don't have a reason to remember. For all we know the diamonds are at the warehouse.

[The cat alone would keep Larry away. If it weren't for the cat, if it weren't for the fact that was their first apartment together, maybe the old man would crash there. Lucky for you, Pink.]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

He didn't have a reason to kill the guards, either, and he fucking did that.

[Luckily it's too loud for anyone to hear this scintillating conversation.]

[whitetwoguns]

He said the alarm was it.

[The cigarette between his fingers trails a veil of smoke as he waves the whole thing off.]

We're not gonna even give possible reasons.

[pinkeffinprofessional]

Yeah, that's right. The alarm.

[There's a tone that says 'bullshit']

[whitetwoguns]

His story is his story.

[Don't make it true or believable. There we go. Would have been so fucking great if Pink had taken his side from the start. Woulda, coulda, shoulda...]

[pinkeffinprofessional]

[Okay let's not talk about this anymore]

So what's the real deal, Mr. White?

[whitetwoguns]

How do you mean?

[pinkeffinprofessional]

I mean you gotta be pretty desperate if you're asking me to go drinking with you.

Not that I'm complaining.

[whitetwoguns]

No, I'm not. We don't go drinking enough it occurred to me.

[A long, long drink of his own drink.]