'Thanks again for helping out when I was in a tight spot,' wrote John Gartland.

'Tell him to pawn his brass balls,' says Rosie, who is still pig dog mad over the fucking English cunt.

'Now you've converted the loan into my editing of The Gropamine Diaries,' he continues, ' I won't delay in getting it done. Currently, we're at page 382 and going forward for completion. Ask to look at the edited manuscript any time you like.'

This is the soft side of Gartland.

This is when he's actually ten percent sincere.

'A sly cunt too,' says Rosie who initially told me not to wire him any money.

'He's on a pension and lives like a king in Thailand.' 

I said that Gartland used magic in his writing. 

'Well cut the cunt off. If he can't breathe, he can't manipulate.' 

I wired him another $200 cash.

The spell check stayed on page 382.

I would later find out that Gartland thought that was $500 bucks worth and would want another $500 to finish off the spell-check.

This is classic Gartland

I asked Rosie about the artwork on the dog, Gartland.

'I fucking dig it,' she said, 'especially the last design, he looks like a fucking predator.'

I said that John Gartland loves money more than his friends.

'That sounds about right,' said Rosie, who can't wait to visit the cunt and have a serious Mekong session with him.

I told her I'd supply the concrete. 


*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


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