that’s the price you pay for crackin’ down on the workin’ man and chasin’ skirts like a two-bit romeo with a death wish. Trust me, pal—goin’ after men is like findin’ a loaded heater in a dark alley: it’s faster, it’s cleaner, and nine times outta ten, it won’t leave you bleedin’ out in some gutter wonderin’ where it all went wrong.
I tip my fedora down and take a drag of my cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke whilst suppressing the urge to cough. I prefer vape pens and nicotine patches, but she doesn’t need to know all my secrets. “You dames are all the same”, I say cleverly, “with your big city ideas about efficient heating”
“But let me ask you this”, I reach into my trenchcoat and pull out a leaflet, “is it really more efficient to burn fossil fuels to heat up a dark alleyway than to just wear a trenchcoat?” A silence greets us as the HVAC begins to hum at higher frequency. I push the leaflet about the sale on trenchcoats at a nearby warehouse into her porcelain hands, and then without looking back, stride mysteriously out of that alleyway.
back in the day, if a guy said he was packin’ a heater, he wasn’t talkin’ about stayin’ warm—unless you count the kinda warmth that leaves smoke comin’ outta a guy’s chest.
I chuckle darkly as she whispers sweet nothings to me to turn back, but my days of spraying gasoline on my chest and setting it on fire to entertain the morbid curiosities of my friends and admirers are over. “Friends don’t let friends demean themselves” I say. I make a power fist and hold it high, just like my therapist taught me.
that’s the price you pay for crackin’ down on the workin’ man and chasin’ skirts like a two-bit romeo with a death wish. Trust me, pal—goin’ after men is like findin’ a loaded heater in a dark alley: it’s faster, it’s cleaner, and nine times outta ten, it won’t leave you bleedin’ out in some gutter wonderin’ where it all went wrong.
I tip my fedora down and take a drag of my cigarette, blowing a plume of smoke whilst suppressing the urge to cough. I prefer vape pens and nicotine patches, but she doesn’t need to know all my secrets. “You dames are all the same”, I say cleverly, “with your big city ideas about efficient heating”
“But let me ask you this”, I reach into my trenchcoat and pull out a leaflet, “is it really more efficient to burn fossil fuels to heat up a dark alleyway than to just wear a trenchcoat?” A silence greets us as the HVAC begins to hum at higher frequency. I push the leaflet about the sale on trenchcoats at a nearby warehouse into her porcelain hands, and then without looking back, stride mysteriously out of that alleyway.
back in the day, if a guy said he was packin’ a heater, he wasn’t talkin’ about stayin’ warm—unless you count the kinda warmth that leaves smoke comin’ outta a guy’s chest.
I chuckle darkly as she whispers sweet nothings to me to turn back, but my days of spraying gasoline on my chest and setting it on fire to entertain the morbid curiosities of my friends and admirers are over. “Friends don’t let friends demean themselves” I say. I make a power fist and hold it high, just like my therapist taught me.