Mad Eyed Llama

"What a dump!” I muttered as I took a drag from my dying cigarette, nearly burning my fingers. Cautiously, I pressed the switch; my fingers nervously twitching with a gut feeling that told me this place held more secrets than the broads at The Black Veil. Inside, the bell rang like a rickety old radio, barely letting out a feeble cough. I waited, my fingers clutching the cigarette's dead end. Footsteps approached and someone turned the knob. I threw the dead cigarette towards the dark end of the hallway, where it rolled into a corner and disappeared. A short fat guy grunted, "Pleasure to meet you, Mad Eyed Llama". I grinned. My reputation had finally preceded me.


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