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I asked, even though I knew it was him. No one else had come by. “Yup,” Al said without moving his lips. He didn’t want to talk right now. Fine by me. Al and I understand each other. There are times for talking and times for shutting up. Still, he had to be hungry. “Listen, tío, I’ll put a cent in and you can get some Twinkies. Want some Twinkies, Al?” “Huh,” he grunted slightly, and I guessed that meant yes. I patted the pay phone. “Bueno,” I muttered and gossip turned gossip to go inside. gossip When the runner came back the next day, I had my feet propped up on the counter and was busy scratching off old lottery tickets. It was boring as shit in that store, and lottery tickets were pretty damn interesting. Looking up, I half grinned at the guy. What kind of lame idiot runs when it’s one hundred and ten degrees outside? His shirt clung all over as if to show me exactly what kind of lame idiot runs when it’s hot out: the kind of lame idiot who’s cut like a mother fucking knife.
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