I drove up to Dairy Queen in my car, which is a lot less noticeable than my big-ass truck. It was around noon when I arrived, and I was hoping to see the fat fuck manager leave the DQ for lunch.
The fat fuck wasn't even there. I guessed that he must have worked the night shift, so I just sat there, in my car and waited until the manager arrived to work.
I passed the time watching porn on my phone, so I almost missed the fat fuck when he arrived. He pulled up in a big, lifted F150. It was bright fire truck red. The truck totally screamed "Look at me, I'm too fucking cheap to buy a super duty truck."
The restaurant was only open until 8:30 p.m., so I figured the fat fuck manager must be closing up the joint. Time to find something else to do in the meantime.
I knew a whore who lived up the mountain at Gov. Camp, who's motto was "All holes open for business," so I gave her a call and told her I was on my way to fill at least two of her dirty holes.
"You know where to find me," she said. "I'll get started on the enema, honey." I could hear her dirty, evil smile through the phone.
She knew me well.
I drove up to Gov. Camp and spent a few hours with the whore. I fucked her ass and her mouth for several hours. Then, we showered together while the oven pre-heated.
She baked me some cookies and sent me on my way at about six p.m.. Best three hundred dollars I've ever spent.
I arrived back at the Dairy Queen at quarter to seven, so I sat in my car and drank some coffee from my thermos until eight p.m., a half hour before closing time.
Got out of my car and went over to the passenger side of the fat fuck manager's truck. Had a lock picking kit with me, but didn't need it. Fat fuck had left his prized truck unlocked, like a fucking idiot. I opened the passenger side door, and hopped in. No alarm, no nothing.
I got in the back seat of the truck and waited.
The fat fuck-stick finally got in his truck at nearly nine o'clock. I let him take off for a while up Highway 26 until I pulled my .22 pistol and shoved it to the back of his head.
"Howdy snitch," I said with evil dripping from my voice.
"What the..." said fat fuck boy, as he nearly wrecked the truck. He struggled to gain control.
"Try not to crash, snitch-boy. It'd be a shame for you to die in a horrible accident before I could kill you myself," I said as I pressed the small gun barrel harder against his head.
"Shit! I..." he started as he finally gained control of the truck and pulled it to the side of the road. "I didn't..."
"Yes you did, fucker. Now, keep driving up the mountain. We don't need any attention from sitting on the side of the road, now do we?"
"Okay, okay. I'm going. Damn," said the fat fuck manager, taking to the road again. "I didn't tell them cops nothin'."
"Right," I said, as I kept my face hidden behind his head. "You talked to those cops for an hour and you didn't tell them anything? Nothing? How stupid do I look to you?"
He tried turning around and I smacked him upside the head with the pistol. "Don't turn around, you fucking idiot," I explained. "It was a figure of speech."
"Well how am I supposed to know what cha look like then?" The big man asked, with no sarcasm whatsoever.
"Whatever," I said, with a sigh. "I don't give a flying fuck what you told those cops. I know what you told the cops. I want to know what you told everyone else."
"What...?" he asked, confused.
"I want to know what you told Miss Darcy. What you told your employees. Do any of them actually have any photos of me?"
"How the hell would I know? I don't even know who you are. Hell, I don't even want to know who you are. Just let me out. You can have the damn truck," fat fuck said, a little desperation in his voice.
"I'm the guy who dragged that retard up 26. Left his two retard kids cowering in their car for you to find. I'm the guy who's gonna burn you alive if you don't start giving me some useful information."
"Look..." he started, as he continued driving up 26. "I told Darcy just what I told the cops. Told her that her ex left her kids stranded at the DQ. Told her... Shit, I dunno," he paused. "I didn't tell the cops this, but I told Miss Darcy that some guy in a big truck abducted her ex. I didn't want to get in trouble for not reporting it, ya know?"
"Well, I'd say you're in trouble now," I said with some snark in my voice. "How'd you know? Did you see the guy get dragged?"
"How'd I know? Look, it's hard to miss some guy getting dragged on the pavement out the DQ parking lot. Folks saw it," he said.
"Who saw it?" I asked.
"Some customers. Said some guy got dragged out our parking lot by his neck. Screaming bloody murder," he explained.
"Fucking hell," I said. If it was an employee that saw, I could do something about that. But, a customer? Never gonna find those fuckers.
"So, did you ask your employees if they have any pictures of that evening? Of that fucking retard taking 20 minutes to order? Of my face lurking in the background?" I asked, getting a bit frustrated.
"I asked 'em," the fat fuck started. "One of our counter girls did take some photos of that guy and his girls. Just cus they were being so stupid at the counter. Heck, I think she even posted some to Instagram, or Twitter."
"Son of a bitch," I swore so loud that I spat on the back of fat fuck's head.
He reached back and felt the dampness. "What the fuck, man?" he asked. "I'm trying to help ya out here. Whatcha spittin' on me for?"
"Shut up. Just frustrated. Fucking social media," I said, exasperated.
"Tell me about it," fat fuck went on. "My teenage daughter can't keep her face off facebook for five minutes. Whatcha gonna do."
"Shut up. Pull over up here, behind that car," I said, as I pointed to the car on the side of the road with my .22.
He pulled the truck over, put it in park and couldn't resist the urge to turn around and look me straight in the eyes.
"Hey! Yer that..." Was all he was able to say before I put a bullet through his head.
I left him dead in the driver's seat, got out and walked up to the car that I had the whore leave on the side of the road earlier. On the passenger seat was a loaf of fresh banana bread, with a note. "My asshole is bleeding," it read. "And it hungers for more of your cock. Enjoy the banana bread."
"Awww," I said aloud to myself as I drove home. "Nothing like a well trained whore."
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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.
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