You grin at him, and pour him another glass, relishing the thought that the world will soon be rid of this inept individual, and you will be eighty thousand dollars richer.
You suddenly realise that you forgot to internalise your previous dialogue and instead said it out loud. Monopoly man looks at you rather oddly.
"Dear fellow, I think you have me confused with someone else. You see I am actually homeless and destitute. I was once lord Pincemby Smithe, and would indeed carry around 8 thousand Euros whereever I went. Unfortunately a chap at another wine shop already fleeced me for all my money, stocks and the deeds to my manor. I am meerly here to drink as much alcohol as I can until I pass out."
POST A COMMENT
Wanna say something? Make yourself heard!
We reserve the right to delete spam, flames, or other nasty stuff.
1 COMMENT ABOUT THIS STORY RSS
STORY TAGS
RELATED STORIES RSS
BY THE SAME AUTHOR RSS
THE GOODS
You're currently reading a branch in the story
Bitter Almonds. This branch
was posted on January 9, 2008 by
Meccabilly.
This story is filed under:
Action / Adventure, Urban
STORY CATEGORIES
