That widow ain't high.
Maybe waiting till after the service
When she'd want to get good and loaded is before the fucking service, against all the fucking carrying on. What do you think?
Makes sense.
Meaning all that whore's been telling me the last ten fucking days, about seeing the widow taking the dope, your own fucking assurances, you verify that she's loaded personally, you're both full of shit.
I checked in on the woman daily. If I was fooled, perhaps I've chosen simplemindedness, Al, over realizing a certain friend has used me as an instrument of purposes he concealed.
Say what you're gonna say or prepare for eternal fucking silence.
I don't believe you commissioned me to make an offer on the widow's claim to keep the regulators off you, Al. I think someone found something out there you want.
Assume you ain't been privy to the ins and outs of that matter for the sake of fucking conversation, huh? I mean, was I asleep, E.B., when you and me declared undying loyalty and full faith mutual disclosure, about every fucking detail of every fucking move we were ever going to make together?
You used me as a pawn, Al.
And you fucked up the game is the central fucking present issue. We agreed on 2,000, you want a fucking percentage instead?
Is that such an inconceivable proposition?
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