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"Exit stage left." said Martin with a flourish

  • "Exit stage left." said Martin with a flourish before returning to his cubicle. Big Bob rolled his eyes, swiveling his chair back towards his monitor. Chewing the fat with Martin
  • Scorcese is like slicing a motorcycle in half with a chainsaw. Lot's of sparks and expensive. Big Bob wasn't having it though, so he pushed his office chair towards Martin and
  • said, "You're a goodfella, Marty, but it's after hours. These are mean streets, and I feel like a raging bull." Martin's face turned the color of money as Big Bob's words sank in.
  • It didn't matter that Big Bob thought he was a 'goodfella', what mattered was that Bobby was out for blood tonight and Martin knew he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
  • Bobby, armed with all the standard mob tools, checked his word of the day calendar. In a twist of fate, the word was temerity. "Confidence level 9," he muttered, spying Martin
  • 's self reflection paper. Bobby couldn't wait to sabotage Martin and get out of there, he just wanted to see Martin be accused of attempted suicide. The mob's is a crazy thing.
  • This has been true ever since the Eisenhower era, when all you had to do was be a Communist.Martin was no activist type, just bored with the status quo. Pictures of matchstick men
  • playing the games matchstick people play. It wasn’t with firewood unless that was their kink. My uncle Mike liked Ike but that was a long time ago. His thinking is elsewhere now.
  • Like the smoke rising up into the night sky from the matchstick people's burning remains, Uncle Mike's thoughts floated away from Ike, now. They hovered near Neptune and circled
  • twice before they heard the self destruct sequence kick in. "Well, isn't that great?" He had hardly spoken the words when the explosion rocked the universe, eradicating everything.

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