An inedible stew of visual lunacy much of which I concocted with my own three hands.
Go ahead and shoot'em; seeing as that's the hotel bellboy and I already got my room service you will save me having to tip. There is just no way I am going to do the "Forbidden Dance". Now GTFO before I douse you with the remnants of my shrimp cocktail and you end up smelling like a $2 whore after a 12hour shift.
LOL - I should have erased him so that the gun was merely pointing at her feet... again a rush job but it provided for one of your pulp fiction scenarios... shrimp cocktail juice and a two-dollar whore - very funny !
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