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“What is that?” reluctant hands accept the metal box, cold. mature thumbnail galleries Then Slur pulls out a gun, the kind you see in all those 80’s cop shows: The Revolver, black, heavy with a wooden handle and mature thumbnail galleries six chances to kill someone; or yourself. Slime tries not to show his concern, perhaps believing that Slur had finally decided to punctuate his distaste for his older brother. For some reason, however, Slime always believed his brother would stab him with a knife. What now? “What are you going to do with that gun?” “I’m going to hide it. And I want you to hide those bullets somewhere else.” “Why?” “Mom tried to kill herself.” Slur did not lie. Slime investigates just to spite. It is in a television room that there sits one empty glass of wine, one empty eyed mother – cried out, dried out. “I’m going to wake up dad.” Slur feels lost, not knowing what to do; he turns to the one man that can help him.
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