For Years I Was A Hitman Called ‘The Aneurysm’ And I’m Ready To Tell You Why I Finally Retired

That’s what I thought, until I didn’t. I got over it and went back to my normal life. I walked into the local grocery store to pick up my usual weekend supply of Evan Williams, sugar free Coke, ice and frozen dinners and my eye was caught by a young woman who was staring me down the whole way from my truck to the entrance.

The mental sound of a chiming slot machine announcing my sexual victory with the 21-year-old sweet thing was quickly snuffed out once she started talking.

“Sir,” she whispered quietly to catch my attention. “Follow me.”

I didn’t suck in a single breath as the young woman led me into the graveyard of a magazine section in the back of the grocery store. She shot a look back towards the distant entrance once we reached the sparse collection of Star and People magazines.

“I was behind you out of the road and I think I saw someone following you,” the young woman started in.

My manhood shrunk.

“There was this beat up S.U.V. behind you. I saw him take a picture of your license plate I think with a phone. The truck was hovering in the parking lot waiting for you to park. I noticed it because the guy gave me a really guilty look when I glanced at him taking the picture. It could be nothing, but I just thought you should know,” the young woman said.

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