The Hunt for Higgs’ Bos’n: XV, for #smalltales

When I came to, the hangover was hitting harder than the headwound. I could feel that I was cuffed to a chair – we stared out into the gaping maw of open quarry.

Digits? I’d waste that fucker for playing this game. Though this was a little brutish…

Pebbles dropped like my chances of a good morning’s sleep, clanging off the quarry wall with an echo weaker than a hooker’s waistband.

“Long time, Kurt.”

“Don’t sound like a dead man, Al. Last I heard your throat was cut this morning.”

“You ought to watch your news outlets. We need to talk.”

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The Hunt for Higgs’ Bos’n: XV, for #smalltales

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