“I love you too sugar lips but ya can’t be pass’n out in the store.”
Francisco woke, relieved to see Eugene sneering down at him. Eugene, foul of smell and worse of character was rarely seen by customers yet Francisco saw a lot of him. Still, better to be thrown out on your ear by Eugene than face the phantom of your baby-mother ex-girlfriend.
Predictably, in the next moment Francisco found himself in a sprawling pile with a trench coat and notebook garnish on the street. “Another day in paradise,” he muttered and picked himself up.
Eugene locked the door, and trudged back toward the kitchen but Pete held him up.
“Hey boss, ol’ Francis out there has nearly drunk up all his product. You want me to call corporate?”
“Corporate? Fuck corporate. Five parts rot-gut, one part Grey Poupon. Mix it up your own goddamn self.”