'Cut the travelogue shit and get on with the story.'

Max was keen for action, even I could tell.

'Madam Snake is at the Oriental Hotel, room 501 on the fifth floor, she personally carried the Covid virus on China Southern and flew into Minneapolis early March.'

I could see where this was heading.

"Does she have big tits,' I asked.

'She's a viper and her tits are the milk before she administers her poison.'

I think Max had been reading too many Ian Flemming novels.

'She didn't do a fucking good job,' I said if all the rioting in the US was anything to go by.

'That's why you work for us,' said Max, 'at least with you, I know you aren't going to report our movements to the Black Panthers.'

'You don't need to be black to do that.'

'I know, but I know you wouldn't do that to us. We pay you too well to fuck us over.'

It wasn't even about the money.

It was something much bigger.

We were becoming a minority.

Soon we'd be at their heels, on our necks.

Why aren't the American Indians going off?

"Because they are native to North America and respect the  rule of land  too much to destroy what the white man has created.'

Who would brew the booze (and it won't be the blackfella)  if they wiped out the white man?

'Another good point,' said Max, who suggested I pay Madam Snake a visit.

'And don't forget to cum all over her tits,' he added.

Was Max rewarding me for being an all-round nice guy?

'Fuckin oath I am, now titty fuck her like there is no tomorrow.'

That is exactly my intention I replied and then I left the building.


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