The room was dimly lit but I could see the light glint off his blade. He was coming towards me faster than I had expected. I looked around, my firm young friend was still tripping balls from the red pill she had taken at the concert, she'd be of no help.
Old Knudsen had taken 4 but they had no effect on him except to see some people in their true ultimate form as giant dust mites and seeing the walls melt.
He got to me and extended his arm, I had only seconds to react. I was out of practice and not as fast as I used to be.
He handed me the knife and apologized for the previous one being dirty. I took the knife, smiled and said, "it was ok" but really it wasn't and he'd get no tip and harsh passive aggressive Yelp review.
Was there anything else he could get me? .... I asked for some red sass for the steak and he minced off to get it.
This is what happens when you give dust mites good British jobs.
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