Quinn Jr.

   "I'm alright. Just give me a minute."
   "You lose a tooth? Your mouth is bleeding a bit."
   "Yeah, it's here on the ground somewhere."
   "Does that hurt?"
   "Yeah."
   "That sucks. Sure was funny though."
   "You've said that."
   "Oh yeah."
   "Who are you anyway?"
   "I'm Quinn's son. Quinn Jr."
   "Stop it."
   "No, for real."
   "You planning on killing me or just stealing my money?"
   "It's not your money."
   "It is."
   "Whatever."
   "So now what?"
   "Well, the original plan was for dad to steal one suitcase of money. Then I'd steal a second suitcase of money, after which I was to kill you. Then I'd collect on the contract. Dad and I would have made out quite well."
   "And the plan changed?"
   "I can't get ahold of dad."
   "No, I guess you can't right now."
   "You know where my dad is?"
   "He was in the trunk of a car. But he got out and ran off."
   "I can't see my dad running."
   "I saw it. He can run pretty fast for an fat old guy."
   "Why was he in the trunk of a car?"
   "Long story."
   Quinn Jr. stands and moseys over to the wayward suitcase. He reaches down to pick it up. He holds it up and looks at it for a long second then says, "what's this brown stuff on it?"
   "Near as I can guess it's poo."
   "Poo as in...poop?"
   "Poop."
   "Like from a dog?"
   "Like from my uncle Marty."
   "Gross." He looks about them for no particular reason, shrugs his shoulders, raises his left hand which is holding a gun, and shoots me.

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