Unfortunately for you, Soren, that whole bit where Punchy got eaten by rabid mutant wolves off the coast of a tropical island? Total fiction.
Which is why, as you come home from a funeral where someone thought it was a brilliant idea to play Notorious B.I.G.'s Life After Death over the loudspeakers for the whole ceremony, you find that Punchy's sprawled on your couch with a package of Sour Patch Kids.
"Yo, Skinny, mind if I stay on the down low here with you?"
"What. Are You. Doing." Oh god, he'd gotten Sour Patch Kids dust all over the immaculate black leather and --
"You're supposed to be dead!"
Given adequate time and warning, Soren might have been able to dredge up a modicum of relief that Punchy was alive. Just not now. With his feet up on the armrest.
"Yeah, about that." Punchy figures he's probably more likely to get Soren to agree with keeping him hidden if he doesn't put his boots up on the armrest, so at least he's just got feet with ill-fitting, stained socks on the armrest! "Uh, so I kinda got webbed up in some serious OG's over some stacks and needed to bust out...can I stay here? Please?"
That answer sounded pretty definite. And Soren looked like he was trying to bore holes in Punchy's head with that glare. "Now get out and take your stacks with you."
"I found out they was hustlin', got myself all wormed in, took their cheddar and turned it into the pork. Tipped the po-po off to all those dirty presidents, you know?"
"And you can't stay anywhere else...why?" As far as Soren could figure out, Punchy, in his never-ending quest for justice and ways to get himself in trouble, had bit off more than he can chew and needed to disappear for a while.
"Because I don't got no other friends," Punchy says, amping the Puppy Dog Face up to eleven. "I'll fix your computer, dawg. I mean. If you got a computer."
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Which is why, as you come home from a funeral where someone thought it was a brilliant idea to play Notorious B.I.G.'s Life After Death over the loudspeakers for the whole ceremony, you find that Punchy's sprawled on your couch with a package of Sour Patch Kids.
"Yo, Skinny, mind if I stay on the down low here with you?"
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"You're supposed to be dead!"
Given adequate time and warning, Soren might have been able to dredge up a modicum of relief that Punchy was alive. Just not now. With his feet up on the armrest.
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That answer sounded pretty definite. And Soren looked like he was trying to bore holes in Punchy's head with that glare. "Now get out and take your stacks with you."
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Unfortunately, Soren may just be immune to Puppy Dog Faces.
"But Soren, I got no place to go. I mean, I don't got the stacks anymore. Those G's are gonna ice me the second I leave this crib."
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Wangstaspeak sure uses a lot of numbers.
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"I do not. But I suppose you could stay in the basement. For a brief while. As long as you didn't make any noise."
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"...certainly. Now get your socks off my couch."
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