MD Writes

  My meetings with Sammer were always connected to work. Rarely, he invited me to his place just to chat, but even so we always found ways to talk about work as well. Our boss Manoelle which Sammer prefers to call “the fat cane” once sent both of us on a mission. - I want you to go to Damien’s house! – he said. - Why boss? – Sammer asked. – What did the guy do to our lovely thin friend? - If you don’t shut your mouth Sammer, I’ll do it for ya! - No need for violence. - What did Damien do, exactly? – I interfered. - I sent him to deliver some coke to Flint City two days ago, but I still haven’t been contacted by my people there, so I think something’s wrong. I want you to go there and start asking questions. - And why do I need to go there, as well? – Sammer asked. - I need you to be there if there’s a need for some muscle. - Should I get offended by this? – I said in surprise. - Get used to it. We were driving to Damien’s place in my car. Then as if something twitched in Sammer’s head,