Don't Go Behind the Tree!

So there I was, minding my own business, sitting in a downtown Moscow hotel bar. Then I saw a Habanero come in, and I recognized him instantly. He was a confederate of my sworn enemy Pepe, the one who kept stealing the talent from my nightclubs. More like kidnapping them. I bet he was here to stop tonight's perform...ance, and I was actually looking forward to it.

I wasn't going to wait for an explanation, so I just shot him. There. He's not walking off with anybody now.

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Deck the Fusilage

So there I was, minding my own business, watching the spilled coffee soak into the carpet of a plane enroute to Moscow. I'd only seen two corpses on the flight so far, so it might be a relatively violence-free journey.

Then again, it might not.... This Italian byotch is screeching opera arias, or maybe she was imitating a low-quality violin returning to its roots, namely making the noise a tortured cat would produce while being disemboweled. I politely asked her to shut the frack up, and she rudely ignored me. Some of the other passengers were trying to telepathically signal her that shutting up was an excellent idea. She continued to ignore us all and began practicing vocal scales.

So I garroted her with her own vocal cords. Kind of a hoist on one's own petard kind of ending, but without the petard. And just to be absolutely sure, I shot her too.

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