Next day, Fi walks into the loft as Michael's doing his workout. "Did you bring the thing?" he asks her. Fi mentions that she's got a friend at a veterinary clinic as she hands Michael a big film tube. Michael quickly opens it and slaps the film up against the nearest window, using it as a makeshift light wall. So what was in that crate, in the end? A nuke? An alien skeleton? Tricia Helfer? Nope, it's just a sniper rifle. Which can only mean one thing: Bullshit! "That's an awful lot of trouble to go to for a gun," Fi observes, because she remembers that when she got a sniper rifle for Michael four weeks ago it wasn't even worthy of airtime. "Must be for quite the occasion," she adds. Actually, that's a good point, if that occasion is bullshit! "And they sure don't want me to know what it is," Michael agrees. Sure, Michael. That's why they gave you the getaway car to fuck around with for more than twenty-four hours before the job went down. Still, that silhouette is a pretty thin clue, even glowing there on the window like a lit candy pie.
(Sorry. Couldn't resist.)
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com
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