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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 21:01:01 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 14793
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => Night Crawler, Part 8
[time] => 2003-03-23 18:05:00
[hometext] => The second to the last chapter.
[bodytext] => “What do you mean, a shame?”
“Well, unfortunately, I don’t need them anymore. My wife passed away last night.” “Well, what am I supposed to do with all these roses? People put their lives on the line to break onto palace grounds and steal these. “We had to smuggle them onto a plane from England And fly them all the way over here. Then, we had to get past customs on this side of the ocean. You know that authorities had been alerted be then.” “Look, I’m sorry.” “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You made this order. I can’t sell off five hundred illegal roses On the streets or anything.” “I know, I know.” “So you need to pay up for them.” “How much is it?” “You know the rate. Twenty dollars a dozen. Thirty dozen. That makes six hundred dollars.” “Look, here’s forty. That’s all I have.” “Forty isn’t enough. If you don’t give me six hundred dollars, Right now, then I’m going to kill you.” “I already told you. My wife died. I can’t pay you now because I paid her medical bill.” After all that. The story ends, And I think you know how. The police found him lying there Six months later. The scent of rot filled his house. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 165 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Butterat_Zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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