Bobby and Me (Forget Bozo)

“Don’t fuck with me.”

I slumped. “I don’t have it.”

She held up an index finger. “One week.” She glanced up at the big guy then at me like he was or else, and paraded off with her little entourage to their table. I knew then that big guy was going to kill someone soon.

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“Be quiet, Bobby. I need to think.”

After a few minutes, I moaned.

“Are you okay?”





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)