Hello Old Friend
The orange glow of the cigarette sparkled brightly in the dark of the bar as the alcohol stained breath pushed through. He sat in the corner on a wooden chair too small for his large sagging body, a smoke on his lips and a half-empty bottle slipping in his greasy finger tips. His XXL muscle shirt was crusted with the sweat of days before, and his jeans were covered in various food crumbs. From behind the counter, the bartender called over to the heap of the man in his best english.
“Leave please. Time of closing is now!”
He didn’t move. Afriad to anger the man, the bartender began to scrub the counter again.
The door quickly opened and a tall man wrapped in black cloth stode in, his eyes hidden behind black glasses. The bartender shouted.
“Wir sind geschlossen. Du musst gehen!”
Without breaking his stride, the intruder whipped out a black shotgun and blew off his shoulder. The gun then turned to the man in the corner as he spoke through the black cloth over his face.
“Hello old friend.”