Wookiemonster
The*****isBack
Monta leaned forward on the edge of her seat, bumping the desk and startling Wookimonster out of her thoughts. Out of her darkness. Out of her descent down mental alleyways filled with body chalk outlines and broken dreams. The last thing she wanted to see was Monta there, grinning like a drunk who just won a week's worth of hooch at the bangtails. Monta was all bim, all bing, and cool as a corpse in December.
"So, this butter and egg man of yours, this England' fella, you think he run off with the Cs?"
There was ice in Monta's voice. Wookiemonster had seen her at work before, all serene and calm like the bruno's she'd snuffed were nuthin' to her. Nuthin' but dust and a tattered bloody suit to bury burn or hide at a later date. Wookiemonster sighed and tilted the bottle towards Monta.
"You know the giggle juice ruins my aim. And I don't need you goin' over the edge with the rams, Wook' doll." She nodded towards the bottle as if she could mentally force it out of Wookiemonster's grip. Glass broke in the alley below, tires screeched. A few tense seconds passed.
Someone knocked heavily on the office door.
Who is it....I've got to know...I need closure...