The goon gets on my nerves

I made the goon walk down the stairs ahead of me. Every time that he slowed down, I would belt him solidly in the middle of the back, and have to endure another bout of snivelling.

We went to a storage cupboard that he assured me would not be used for the duration of the voyage to site B. Once there I sat him down, and started questioning him.

I started with the obvious “What is happening at Site B?”.

“I swear I don’t know” he blubbed. “I signed on through my spring break work exchange program. They told me that there would be booze, babes and surfing, dude. All I have seen thus far has been violence, insincerity and intolerable table manners! I want out man, p…please help me.”

He continued on in this vein for a long time, and with each sob my hopes of getting some up to date intel ebbed lower.

Getting frustrated, I decided to cut my losses, and experiment with that sublime feeling that I experienced when poor Jen was dissolved.

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