A stranger is tossing serious money around, just for a chance to meet you at an abandoned funeral home. Aren’t you flattered?
“That fellow you saw on Fairfax…the grinning little guy with the face as flat as a frying pan and the pointy toed boots. Looks like a five-foot tall knot of muscles. He’s been here asking for you. Barely speaks English, I had to ask three times before I understood it was your name. He’s asian – Mongolian, maybe, I dunno. He smiles a lot.
Anyway, he said he wanted to buy something from you. Said you knew where to get it. How the hell should I know what he’s talking about? Anyway, he gave me four grand in twenties for my trouble. That’s right, bubba, four-thousand in dead Jacksons. He said to meet him at the Stevens Funeral Home, in the reception room at 2am. That’s right, the abandoned one on 4th avenue. The intake door in the basement will be open.
Oh, he said to bring a pair of garden shears and a cheese grater. How the hell should I know?”
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