HITMAN: BLOOD MONEY: Wedding bells and shotgun fire

“I’m-a drunk as shit, boys.” I hear myself say it, but my face is as rubbery as a fuckin’...rubbery thing. Ha ha ha. Shit. I gotta piss.

“I’m goan bleed the old alligator.” I stumble over the words, but they get the point. Right, where can I take a leak away from the crowd? The old boat house.

Some crazy sons-a-bitches are firin’ shotguns into the water, and I knock into a couple-a them. I get pushed back hard, but that’s just being friendly down these parts.

Stumblin’ past them I spy the old boat house up ahead, but there’s the dance floor with all them other guests dancin’ square.

Some tasty ladies here tonight, boy. Better get yo’self square and take a run. Ain’t no women want a drunken fella pissin’ themself when they wanna be dancin’.

I manage to get into the boat house and unfurl the dragon. Singin’ a happy song as I drain m’self. I hear what sounds like a footstep behind me, and I go to turn, but I’m pushed forward and something coils round my neck.

There’s a biting feeling like a needle in my neck and I try to...do...something...anything. My arms go limp. My legs wobble. I go down like a sack-a-shit.

I barely feel a gloved hand slide into my pocket. I’m slippin’ into sleep breathin’ laboured gasps. He’s pullin’ out the wedding invite. Sonofa...

I can’t even stop him as he pulls off my pants and puts them on hi’self. Fuckin’ weddings.