Honestly, you got the wrong guy. I never woulda done somethin that screwed up to the broad. I mean, seriously, whatever guy did that’s got some kinda problem, y’know? I mean, come on, y’look at her face, and y’just know he wasn’t the kinda guy who was thinkin of his old lady yappin away like some effin purse dog,  picturin the look on her face while he’s carvin away.

He was right here in the right here an now, if y’know what I mean.  I mean this ain’t my deal.

I mean sure, I’m gonna flash a knife if I gotta, if someone’s starin at my face while I’m doin my thing, but I ain’t gonna take out her eyes and widen her smile any — that’s just effed up, seriously.

I’m a little offended y’think I’d be lumped in the same class as this psycho, y’know?

We’re not all alike, y’know. I mean, there ain’t no honor among thieves, if that’s what y’think I’m sayin, ’cause I ain’t. It’s just that some of us guys are in this ’cause we’re good at it, like me, y’know? And some of us are in this ’cause we gotta be, ’cause we’re scared or desperate or strung out on meth or some shit, ‘scuse my French.

But this guy, here? This guy ain’t good, and he ain’t desperate. You see that cut? It ain’t rushed. It ain’t torn. He, uh. He took his time, is what I’m sayin.  An’ that’s what sets this guy apart from the rest of us. He ain’t stealin a wallet. He ain’t goin for a purse. She’s still wearin her fur and everything.

You got the wrong guy, man. I’ll cop to the six purses, ten wallets, three messenger bags, fourteen watches, nine pounds of mascarpone, the harpoon and the Labradoodle, but I didn’t steal nobody’s eyes, okay?

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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