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Frank knew what was beeswax and what was mumbo-fucking-jumbo. He could cut a square deal with a crooked knife. He was on the level. This guy Frankie, this son of a bitch, he knew what it meant to be a man. He had heart, understand? So that’s him, okay? Now this other guy, Stewart, this other guy who the story’s also about is this nosy little shit, who’s like always fucking everything up and deserving a goddamn beating. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy, but let me put it this way: if you ever caught this cock sucker looking cross-eyed at your sister, you’d slit his fucking throat. I know I would.
So anyways, I was in Katmandu with Frank, who was busting my chops over the Reigler deal, when I get a message from the consulate in Bangkok to meet the FBI agent; I was supposed to PowerPoint the G-Man on my plan for a closer ties between the Mafia and the Bureau. A few hours later I was sitting in the airport, tweaking my fly-in animation, when I realized that this story is done.
Date Written: November 05, 2002
Author: Ewan Snow
Average Vote: 4.4286