I have good news, gentle readers. Meatmarket has graciously agreed to fill the Monday slot on an ongoing basis. "Meatmarket Monday" is here to stay.
This is particularly fortuitous because if Meat had decided to back out, the slot would have gone to Inga, my Teutonic escort/bodyguard who kills with her thighs. Poor Inga. Though she is quite adept at the breaking of ribs and spines, her prose reads like The Katzenjammer Kids.
I'm sorry, Inga. You have every right to think I've been a very bad boy. I know. Why don't you come by my place at, let's say, eightish? The cash will be in an envelope on the coffee table and you'll find me whimpering under the bed, just like last time. Danke schön.
This is particularly fortuitous because if Meat had decided to back out, the slot would have gone to Inga, my Teutonic escort/bodyguard who kills with her thighs. Poor Inga. Though she is quite adept at the breaking of ribs and spines, her prose reads like The Katzenjammer Kids.
I'm sorry, Inga. You have every right to think I've been a very bad boy. I know. Why don't you come by my place at, let's say, eightish? The cash will be in an envelope on the coffee table and you'll find me whimpering under the bed, just like last time. Danke schön.
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