I was sitting there at the JFJ (Junkies For Jesus) Club, watching the kids of some chick I was planning on slipping the bone to later, when it hit me! I don't mean another one of my brilliant ideas. It was a fucking bottle that bounced off my head. I looked up and, wiping the blood out of my eyes, saw the fat slob at the end of the bar giggling like a little bitch.
"You think that shit was funny, Bubba," I asked, reaching for my 38.
"How did you know my name was Bubba," he said, seeming not to notice the bullet that just missed his fat head. That's when I knew the guy really was a "Bubba."
You see, down here we have this class of people who think it is a good thing to all go by the same fucking stupid name. It would be kinda like if everyone in Kentucky went by "Hick." These goofs are fucking everywhere, and they are all dumb as fucking dog shit. Eeven worse, it is pointless to kill the mother fuckers because as soon as you do another one just springs up to infect your environment with his stupidity.
Instead of killing him I decided to have some fun with him instead. I laughed and told him how cool he was, and how much I enjoyed being hit in thefucking head by a bottle. Then I asked him if he needed a job. Since no Bubba can ever hold a regular job, they are always willing to do something menial task in order to get money for beer and spank mags. He was all for it.
I told him all he had to do was deliver a package to the Jefferson Parish PD for me. He nodded, I slipped him a fin, and off he went.
Don't think I really sent live kids wrapped in cellophane off with a retard. They were already dead when I put them in the box.