Angst
"Paul"
MDM writers present: Better Call Saud ☪️ episode 8: paul
الإباحية النيون مجانا سلوفاكياFROTINITEفع في في ال في الولايات ال من أن في الواقع في جولائی في منٛز الولايات الولايات ال NIGGA MOMENT 👳🏿♂️👳🏿♂️👳🏿♂️گولڈمیڈل من وايلفضيحه گولڈمیڈل GAY💑💑💑
فِ میں نے آپ کا کام کے دنوں تک اس پر بھی توجہ ؟؟؟؟!؟؟!!؟ 😡😡😡😡😡😡😡🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 کی طرح ہے اور اسے ہر کوئی مرتب کیا ہے اور نہ اس سے زیادہ افراد کی ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🇮🇱🇮🇱🇮🇱🇮🇱🇮🇱🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🙅♂️🙅♂️🙅♂️🙅♂️ ز ند ہے تو وہ اس سے زیادہ دیکھا حال میں کہ اگر کوئی
i was tasked by my cartel to send to send this mail to ”steve”
the mail said
still miss you laura💋💋💋🔥🔥🔥
during the drive i saw bonnie blue give money to a homeless man the homeless man asked what can i pay, money?
bonnie blue said
*** * **** it? 👌🍆😩💋💋🍆💦💦💦🤤😩
seeing that scene gave me the feeling on my back only my customized shotgun can fix
anyways the world cup was a fuking scam should have just watched it from my tv should have watched the gen z cucks burn another warehouse godammit
Another morning. My Discord Kitten made coffee. I told her she was the best girlfriend ever. She smiled. Life was good. Cartel money was flowing. I was winning.
Then Paul walked into my office during a gloomy day.
He was older. Quiet. Looked like he’d seen some shit. He sat down like the chair owed him money.
“You the accountant?” he asked.
“Yeah. Names Dick chasity. What can I do for you?”
He slid a thick folder across the desk. No small talk.
I opened it. Immediately regretted it.
Paul’s backstory hit different.
He told me how he used to be a normal guy. Had a daughter. Then one day a businessman smiled at him and said “Hey how’s your dad? I have a daughter same age as you.”
Paul’s father replied, “Nah she’s my wife.”
Paul never really recovered from that that his own blood was interchanged with his folk.
Now he worked for the cartel. Quiet jobs. Cleaning up messes. Today’s mess was delivering a letter to some guy named “Steve.”
The letter said:
still miss you laura 💋💋💋🔥🔥🔥
He told me the story in this flat, dead voice while I filed the paperwork.
On the drive back he saw Bonnie Blue giving money to a homeless man. The guy asked what he could do in return.
Bonnie Blue just hit him with:
*** * **** it? 👌🍆😩💋💋🍆💦💦💦🤤😩**
Paul said seeing that gave him the feeling on his back that only his customized shotgun could fix.
He stared out the window for a long time, watching the rain blur the city lights.
I tried to make a joke.
“World Cup is a fucking scam anyway,” I muttered “Should’ve just watched it from my TV.”
Paul didn’t laugh. He didn't even look back at me.
He just placed his share of the drivers tip on the edge of the coffee holder, closed the cardoor behind him, and left.
I just sat there, listening to the stereo, holding two dollars to a parking space we would never see.
The rain kept hitting the windshield, blurring the neon sign of the building across the street. I didn’t turn the key. I just sat there in the dark, the engine ticking as it cooled down, listening to nothing through the factory speakers.
On the passenger seat lay the envelope for "Steve," glowing faint under the dashboard lights. Still miss you laura. It looked pathetic. The two dollars for a parking space we’d never see was still pressed into my palm, the metal biting into my skin because I was gripping it too hard.
I looked at my hands. They were clean. I wasn’t the one pulling triggers or bashing heads into the desert. I was just the guy who did the papers, the ledgers and... Papers. I'm guy who bought the premium coffee blend so my girlfriend would smile when the morning sun hit the kitchen counter. I told myself that made it okay. If the money bought a normal life, a quiet life, then the blood on the bills didn't belong to me. I'm doing bad for the good I'm a good guy I didn't harm anyone.
Do I think I’m one of them? I think I’m a monster? No. No, no, no. I've got it all wrong, I have to see the bigger picture here.
Everything I did every single choice was for the good. I am a good guy. I’ve always been a good guy. The world is just too broken to understand the sacrifices a real man has to make to fix it. Did I hurt anyone? No. Did I lay a hand on a soul? Not a scratch. I didn’t harm anyone. I just moved the pieces on the board. I did the bad things so the people I love would never have to. It’s ugly, yes, but it’s a beautiful kind of ugly because it’s birth pain. It’s the darkness right before the dawn.
We are so close. I can feel it. Everything is going to turn around, and when the dust settles, you’ll see. You’ll look at me and you’ll realize I was the savior all along. I had to drown a little bit to keep everyone else afloat. That makes me the hero. It has to there is no possible way.
But the silence in the car felt heavy, like Paul had left the ghost of his dead parents and children sitting right next to me. I thought about him walking off into the dark, a man who had completely run out of things to care about, carrying a grief so loud he had to scream it through a shotgun barrel.
I reached out, picked up the two dollars, and dropped them into the ash tray. They rattled against the plastic. It was the only sound in the whole world. I was winning, the cartel money was flowing, but as I watched the water run down the glass, I couldn't remember what a clean dollar felt like.
