Back in Buffalo, someone ripped me off. I gave him a second chance. He ripped me off again.

As I had just left town for New Orleans, I had no access to the man. So I plotted his demise.

Next time we were at a pagan festival together and he was standing near the bonfire, I planned to kick him in the but, throwing him face first into the bonfire.

I never got to implement my plan. He had the nerve to die from a heroin overdose before I could get him.

Ah well, less paperwork and police reports for me that way.