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Famine simply pokes my ribs.

The red-haired woman asks me if I would follow her into hell.

I say, "Yes."

"Then follow me," she says. She rides ahead of me but she is too fast and I lose track of her.


I am in a bar. South Something. There is a nude dancer at the center of the room. Her tits are obviously fake. She shakes and shimmies down the pole.

A cop is sitting next to me and asks me if I want to buy some cocaine. I know he's a cop and tell him to fuck himself. He leaves the club.

Ten minutes earlier, a man named Heath served me a whiskey. I downed it. "Again." I downed it.

I walk outside and there she is. The red-haired woman. She wears a silver skirt and a red shirt tight against her body. She looks at me as she passes, heading for the gun shop down the street.

I start to walk in the opposite direction and then head back toward the gun shop.

When I wake up, I'm standing in front of the gun shop.

She comes out of the gun shop, a revolver in her hand.

"How bad does this make me look?" she asks me.

"Bad," I say.

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