After a grueling couple of minutes inebriated digits conquered the art of dialing up Milo's long forgotten name. Paulie cleared his throat of any phlegm that decided to stick to his pipes from the aftermath of his binge smoking and pressed the receiver's end against his ear hoping that it was Milo on the other side of the phone and not some smarmy ass recording of himself acting like he gave a damn about the other soul on the line.
"Hey Pau... Shit... I mean, Milo. It's Paulie, man. High as a kite, so I'll make this short 'n sweet. Been knocking around Louisianna, found your scent at a club and was wondering if you need yourself a dealer and a pair of capable hands if you know what I mean..."
-Listening to Paulie talk Milo chuckled and small hissing sounds of the beast accentuated the sounds. Little chump. Paulie'd always been more bark than bite, a guy who liked to talk big but whose ass couldn't cash the checks he wrote. Not that Milo wouldn't gladly take it out of his ass.-
"Cut the shit clown. You know the drill. My city. My animal. My rules. You have twenty-four hours to be belly up in front of me or I'll find you, take your stash, and figure out how to season rat tartare."
-- Edited by MILO JONES on Sunday 3rd of July 2011 05:10:45 AM
Paulie wasn't shocked about Milo being aggressive towards him, he'd been that way since Salem and God knew the ornery bastard didn't change an iotasinceSalem. Fuck! Why'd Milo have to brow beat him?! Paulie grumbled at the thought of his stash being thrown away by Milo. The whoreo of a rodent was already cowering at the thought of Milo's super-sized rat biting it into oblivion so of course Paulie eventually forefit a sigh of defeat to his King.
"All right all aright all right... Just give me a place and time and I'll be there."
-- Edited by PAULIE on Sunday 3rd of July 2011 01:32:56 PM
