“Why am I still here? I don’t know anything. Could you please let me get home and go to bed? I’ve been up twenty-two hours, Ms. Hasselhoff. I’m dog tired and I have to work tomorrow. Just because I’m the boss doesn’t mean I can sleep in.”
“I really can’t do that, Mr. Parnell.”
“Why not, Ms. Hasselhoff?”
Why did she have to have such a long name? Why couldn’t it be something short like Smith?
“Because Tack Carmichael was shot with your gun.”
“My what?” I stood up, knocking my chair over. “My gun? My gun? What the f*ck?”
“There’s no need for that kind of language, Mr. Parnell.”
“I beg to differ, Ms. Hasselhoff. You just told me that some asshole was shot to death with my gun and you don’t expect me to say f*ck? Of course I’m going to say it. Wouldn’t you say…
View original post 27 more words
