Originally Posted by BrainCase
Then she walked in. Without a word she looked over at the dessert spread I had prepared, the shot glasses filled to the brim. She walked over to the desk, with a sachet that would make a priest head for confession. With a single motion, she threw the amber liquid between her ruby lips, and swallowed. Her tongue ran over her upper lip, absorbing the last traces of the scotch.
"Your a friend of the Walker boys, too.", she said, looking out the window at the streetlights.
All of a sudden, my paranoid instincts kicked in.
"Who? Why do you want to know? Are you a Commie??!? ARE YOU!?!?"
She stared at me for a while.
"I mean the Walker boys from down the street. The bicycle repairmen..." she said in a way that can only be achieved by a mysterious woman with a huge overbite.
"Ah, yes," I fumbled, trying to cover my tragic outburst, "what about them?"