In soviet Russia, doorbell ring you. But here, I ring doorbell. This is a terrible title, and now look how it drags on. Learn from my failures, children! NEVER FORGET!

I reviewed reviews of Unforgiven recently. Maybe that's why its in my head...Image via Wikipedia

I rang the doorbell.

Nobody answered, and I considered going home. But then, my training kicked in. Reaching out tentatively, I caressed the button again, sending sensual chimes throughout the house.  This time, I was answered.

A man, dressed head to toe in sheepskin, opened the door and looked at me.

“Can I help you?” I asked, continuing the tentativeness that had dominated earlier affairs.

“No.” He replied. “anyway, you rang my doorbell. I should be helping you.”

“Ok.” I replied, less tentative now, “In that case, can you give me a hand killing someone? There’s a thousand dollars in it...”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then cocking his head to one side, he asked:

“Who are they?”

“Two cowboys.” I answered. “They cut a prostitute up pretty bad.”

"Wait... Is this just the plot to Unforgiven?” he asked.

I turned tail and fled. My tentativeness had gotten the better of me.
 I wonder why he was wearing so much sheep...

Accounts in the mist

The neon light flickered, on and off, smog billowing and whores whoring illuminated in her glaze. Stretching out, she reached into my office, her gentle glow caressing my face. I leaned back in my chair, lighting another cigarette. The cold streets might be my home, but tonight I stayed with only my filing for company. The night belonged to lovers, so I stuck to daytime. And, as...
 "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" I yelled.
Max, dressed in by best suit and Fedora, was reclining in an office chair in front of the window. Outside, someone had fitted a flashing red light to a smog machine and tied up what I believed to be a prostitute, or a mature woman with bad fashion sense.
 "Role-playing," Max replied. "Ever since I became unsuper again, I've been feeling ordinary. You know, bored of myself. So I thought I'd try being someone else."
I stopped. That was actually kinda sad.
 "Ok" I said sympathetically, "Who are you being?"
 "I'm trying out a hardened accountant," Max replied. "Look - I've got spreadsheets and receipts and everything!"
My sympathy evaporated. A lot of smog was filling the room now, and the whore had freed herself. Lost in the mist - like those gorillas - she emerged, brandishing a broken bottle - like those gorillas Max tried to mug at the zoo. Hastily, I locked myself in the bathroom. It seemed safest, and I needed to pee anyway.