The guard on night duty always dozes off around midnight. I've got a guy who can get us past the alarm system and through the back door. After that, I have everything we need to get into the safe. All we're lacking is a driver and a goon for muscle. What do you guys say?
C'mon, fellas.
Look, I know you're about to lose the family farm. It's not your fault, but I'm giving you a damn-near foolproof way to do something about it and make your dead pappy proud. And this may be your last chance to prove to that pretty little wife of yours that your a man. Maybe she'll stop getting it from all the field hands. And I do mean all the field hands. At once. Why do you think I hired on? To feed chickens for a living?
And you. If you don't have that brain transplant by summer's end, you'll die. Do you want to orphan your kids because you're afraid to take a risk? And I say that knowing full well that the search for your wife isn't over. But let's be honest: That space shuttle flew into the sun, and you know it. She was a good astronaut, but not good enough to survive the face-melting heat once they overshot Venus.
Do you guys understand what I'm saying here? I'm saying you hold your destiny in your hands. But it's not just your destiny. It's the destiny of everything and everyone you love.
If I learned anything while I was in the joint, it's that you've got to live every minute like it's your last because you never know when the hand of God is going to come down from the clouds above and sweep you off this terrestrial card table into Hell's trashbag.
Me, I'm doing this so I can finally stand up on my own two feet and tell the election commissioner that no matter how many times he denies me the right to vote just because of my felonious past, I still have the ear of powerful men like Senator Johnson and Governor Russell because I can afford to contribute to their campaigns.
So, yeah, I have a lot riding on this too. And I'll be goddamned if I don't reach out and grab this golden opportunity. I'll be GOD DAMNED if I don't live this minute and the next minute and every single minute after that... like it's my last.
Who's with me?
Listen to This: The Race To Ban Abortion
2 years ago
1 comment:
You rat. Next time I see you you're a dead man. What kind of Nancy Drew, pea-brained halfwit publishes a book about the plan?
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