Man-mountain Columbo, at close to 300 pounds, was stuffed into a wooden rocker on the porch, nursing a breakfast beer. “Go away, cunt.”“Columbo....I’m so proud to witness your ongoing triumph over anorexia nervosa.”“Fuck you.” Added, “Bitch.”Harold’s house gleamed as usual. His girls scrubbed, buffed, shined. I went up the stairs, touched my .38 in the shoulder holster on my left side. Habit, not nervousness. Mostly.Third door on the right. Fuck, why do I know shit like that? Remind me to sign up. . its like many students around this city, they didn't grow up with the spoon up their ass. They are willing to work hard, even if all the education they can get is here," she laughed gently.I grinned, and my eyes moved from her bust to her neck. She didn't notice, as the traffic slowly moved.Oh fuck, I am going to get hard. Shit, think of something else. I thought to myself, tapping my wrists on the wheel imagining anything to make me go soft but nothing worked with her busy metres away from. More

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