The setup was as simple as I am. We'd buy the cowboy couple so many drinks they'd be as easy to rob as office supplies. Then we would make ourselves scarcer than Force of Circumstance, never to set foot in the Robinson again.
It reminded me of an ex of mine: almost too easy. The pair of dupes...
The silence that followed was as oppressive as the next government. With eyes alone - like the slot on a holding cell - I enquired as to the reason for the sudden outburst. Instead of answering Mr. Pistols dropped to one knee as though he were proposing marriage.
He beckoned for me to join him...
He's gone by that name ever since he saw fit to play a three hour set of reggae tracks on a firearm theme downstairs at Patrick's some years ago. I'd been stood in a corner like a forgotten umbrella, meditating on the feeling you get when a tube train goes under the bench you're sitting on...
It was another 6pm as I entered the Robinson. To the east, darkness. To the west one of those fag-stained sunsets London does so well. Standing at the bar I was reminded of my strong belief that smoking dope is bad for you. If I was a dope smoker I'd be at home smoking dope instead of ordering a...
i think @sus's point is that you can maximise your enjoyment of life. i don't feel I've ever suffered from the fear of missing out because I've always assumed i was at the best party that night because i was there. that doesn't mean that every party I've been to was the best one that ever...
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