Fuuuck!!!!

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Fuuuuck!!! ….Just got out of work, and I’m walking back to the car, and I turn into the road where I’m parked. There’s a willowy blonde walking twenty feet in front of me.

The car isn’t far away but bear in mind, this is a street with a skanky hovel of a pub and many a can-holding pisshead along the way.  I hear footsteps behind me – irregular ones, as if they’re skipping, limping, or both. I think he’s on the ‘phone to someone – I hear him say “this one”, just within my earshot. Of course, he could be referring to ANYTHING, but I just have that feeling, y’know….especially when he says “No. Not that one. The one with the red hair”.

I can see from the corner of the eye in the back of my head that this guy is wearing a hoodie, and he’s getting thisclose now – I can hear his breathing and smell his fags. He’s after me, and for some reason he’s snubbed the Sexful Scandinavian. Why me? Fuck!!!!

My heart’s in my mouth (if truth be told, it’s dangling over a toothy precipice)…and as I get to the car I SWEAR he’s about to go for me.

I dive in, ignore my seatbelt completely, and drive off, taking in a quick rear-view as I go. He’s holding something in each hand.

In one, a fire-maned My Little Pony. In the other, a His Little Girl.

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