But I’m just not feeling it. Who the fuck is that in the mirror? Got some crime face going on but who the fuck?

“My name is Jack Price.”

“Hi, I’m Jack, and I’m—”

I mean the thing is it was funny one time but once you pay a price it is paid and that’s it. Otherwise it’s a subscription.

I am not a fucking subscription.

Looking at that face. I dunno man who the fuck owns that face? Some guy. One time was a coffee guy. Then he was a smartass coke guy. Then he killed a bunch of folks. Some stuff happened in between whatever. Then his friend died his employee and he was evidently not ready for that to happen.

How is it he was okay with his lawyer that he was actually a little bit in love with how is it he was okay that she got shot in the side of the head and he was fine with that but this is not okay? Who thinks that way?

Who?

“My name is—”

I’m not feeling it.

Yeah well Jack would you like to phone a friend?

Sure why not I got lots.

Lots of friends.

Only want to talk to one of them.

—

“Hallo yes this is a post-Soviet log-cabin motherfucker and I am a little bit dead forever right now please leave a message beep.”

“O you’re deceased? Well gosh that’s embarrassing I forgot—man is my face red—”

Face arms legs fuck I was fucking covered in blood so—

(Head rush. I think I may be high. Demon juice high.)

Okay come on come on my name is—

“MY NAME IS”

“My name is FUCK IT”

What am I ever supposed to do with this?

You know what Jack why don’t you call someone who isn’t dead?

—

Outgoing VoIP call:

“Hi It’s Barton hi I am VERY RICH in a water bed right now who’s this?”

“Hey Barton it’s Jack Price.”

“Jack Price?”

“Jack Price, Barton.”

“Jack who?”

“The guy with the plane. The bad guy, Barton. I have had a not good day do not make me come over there and murderize you for being you.”

“O Banjo Telemark? The artist sir?”

“…Yes. Yes I am an artist Barton.”

“Okay sir.”

“…”

“Sir?”

“…I am thinking Barton. I will require your input shortly.”

“O. O okay just uh—that’s a little tricky right now sir there is stuff going on—yowow mama Calliope—I’m just a little distracted sir—”

“…”

“…”

“Fog of crime.”

“O my saints and kittens—yes sir fog of crime sir—”

“…did you say saints and kittens?”

“…um yes sir I was greatly moved—oh my—now I am a little self-conscious sir—damn it I will beat you like a four-egg omelet—not you sir I am talking to Calliope—”

“Barton I would send you more money but you cannot possibly spend what you have.”