I slipped quietly back into the warehouse, the dirty brown paper bag in my arms. I could see the raised eyebrows questioning my package and let a little smile slip out. Inside was one of those large pickle jars with a penis and testicles suspended inside. It's amazing what one can buy on the South side of Chicago for the right amount of money. I have never enjoyed cigarettes, but it seems to me like I should have one now, stuck lightly to my lower lip while I laugh around it. I glance up to see Rob's face break into a glowing grin as he figures out what is in the jar.

Senor, necesito comprar un pene. Ryan hands out the com gear and I slip the head set over my ears and adjust the mic to my mouth.


"Enough." I leave the rest of my questions aside and put the jar underneath some oil rags in the trunk. I also stopped at Taco Bell on my way back and spent the next few tossing burritos to my companions. It was a good day to be alive.

--Letters from a Savior; Offer for a few--


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