long pig
pasted ..
Punishers War Journal, Paris, 2/12/00 In Paris I caught up with a dirty businessman on the run from the mob back in New York City. I shook him down for some information I'd be needing back in the Big Apple and then called to book flight back. Leaving my hotel room, I stopped off at a sidewalk cafe to grab a bite. All I wanted was a hot cup of joe and maybe a muffin. That's all.
I got a dirty look on entering the cafe. When I spoke to make my order known, I was ignored. A dubbed Jerry Lewis movie played on the cafe's television, which had the morning patrons laughing and set my teeth on edge. Again, I tried to make my order known.
A thin man with an outrageous mustache wrinkled his nose at me and took my order. Coffee and a muffin, that's what I wanted. "Crossant" he corrected me. The volume on the TV seemed to be climbing. Sure, whatever, I said. Just gimme what I want.
Ten minutes passed while I waited. Then the man seemed to notice me again and produced a lukewarm cup of tea and a hard crust of bread. I began to get angry, but pushed the rage down. I would save my rage for the criminals deserving it.
I went to grab a chair, but the man quickly moved to intercept me. He said it would cost more if I wished to sit down. A lot more. He thought I paid for standing room.
Almost... Almost I reached out and strangled him. But the rage, I pushed it down. The patrons laughed as dubbed Jerry Lewis sliced like a razor through my brain. Or were they laughing at me? Perhaps I was the joke in here today.
The waiter looked smug as I stood drinking the crap he'd given me. I began to sweat with fury under my trench coat. Then I heard the people whispering in their way. whispering about me. And the two waitresses doing nothing behind the counter were whispering about me. About a big, dirty American who was too stupid to know he was being supremely insulted. Too bad for them I speak a little French.
And as I looked at that miserable little slice of bread, I knew I was being ripped off. A crime was being commited right here, right now. And it wasn't just these people in the cafe ripping me off. It was the whole damn system which spawned it. Something snapped and I knew I would have to punish the system. France Must Pay. They all stopped laughing when I drew my gun. Coffee, I barked. And a MUFFIN!
Join us now for a battle that must be called...
Let them eat cake!
Punishers War Journal, Paris, 2/12/00 In Paris I caught up with a dirty businessman on the run from the mob back in New York City. I shook him down for some information I'd be needing back in the Big Apple and then called to book flight back. Leaving my hotel room, I stopped off at a sidewalk cafe to grab a bite. All I wanted was a hot cup of joe and maybe a muffin. That's all.
I got a dirty look on entering the cafe. When I spoke to make my order known, I was ignored. A dubbed Jerry Lewis movie played on the cafe's television, which had the morning patrons laughing and set my teeth on edge. Again, I tried to make my order known.
A thin man with an outrageous mustache wrinkled his nose at me and took my order. Coffee and a muffin, that's what I wanted. "Crossant" he corrected me. The volume on the TV seemed to be climbing. Sure, whatever, I said. Just gimme what I want.
Ten minutes passed while I waited. Then the man seemed to notice me again and produced a lukewarm cup of tea and a hard crust of bread. I began to get angry, but pushed the rage down. I would save my rage for the criminals deserving it.
I went to grab a chair, but the man quickly moved to intercept me. He said it would cost more if I wished to sit down. A lot more. He thought I paid for standing room.
Almost... Almost I reached out and strangled him. But the rage, I pushed it down. The patrons laughed as dubbed Jerry Lewis sliced like a razor through my brain. Or were they laughing at me? Perhaps I was the joke in here today.
The waiter looked smug as I stood drinking the crap he'd given me. I began to sweat with fury under my trench coat. Then I heard the people whispering in their way. whispering about me. And the two waitresses doing nothing behind the counter were whispering about me. About a big, dirty American who was too stupid to know he was being supremely insulted. Too bad for them I speak a little French.
And as I looked at that miserable little slice of bread, I knew I was being ripped off. A crime was being commited right here, right now. And it wasn't just these people in the cafe ripping me off. It was the whole damn system which spawned it. Something snapped and I knew I would have to punish the system. France Must Pay. They all stopped laughing when I drew my gun. Coffee, I barked. And a MUFFIN!
Join us now for a battle that must be called...
Let them eat cake!