I'll never look at a gun range the same way again. We blew through enough ammo to keep a small army afloat, and then... then things got really interesting. Stress relief on so many levels.
What the fuck? Seriously? That's what started the argument between the bastard and myself this time. What's wrong with me? The answer is rather simple, really, and I told him that my biggest, most prevalent problem was being spawned by an egotistical, narcissistic asshole who couldn't see past his own inflated ego long enough to take note of the accomplishments of his only son.
So much shit going on of late. I don't know who this Charles Stuart is, but if I ever get my hands on him, I'll tear him limb from limb. And then beat him with them. Wren's disappearance and subsequent return has left me somewhat overprotective of her. I'm afraid of letting her out of my sight. Someone had her, for three days, and though Wren doesn't remember, I'm sure it wasn't all tea and cookies.
So I met this chick, Ashley. She owns a bar on Collins, almost SoBe, but not quite. She's hot, she's smart, and she can banter with the best of them. Sadly, it would seem, she can't take what she dishes out. We're in the bar, her, me, and Aaron - cool dude by the way, and she starts asking questions. I answer them, and maybe like an idiot, I'm honest with her. She gets upset. Then she starts this 'survey' of what do we like better, a good girl or a bad girl. We both told her, basically the same thing. A good girl, gone bad. That pissed her off. What pissed her off even more was when Marshall, her security dude came in, having heard most of the conversation, and agreed with us. Things were still going pretty well, she got over her momentary fit, and decided we both needed a comeuppance. She dumped ice down Aaron's back and then literally fell down laughing. When she got over it, mostly, she got up, apologized to him - wh...
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