Stretch Page #3

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And I don't even believe

in ancestral curses,

but that's how f***ing deep I roll.

If Karl with a "K" represented

the light of the limo industry,

then its black hole, its darkest dungeon

came in the form of a nameless,

ageless Eastern European immigrant

known simply as, "The Jovi."

He lorded over his company Cossack

with an iron fist and a white-maned

hair metal band wig

that looked like Dog the Bounty Hunter

had been dropped into a deep fryer.

I don't care how it sounds.

That hair scared

the living sh*t out of me.

This blow-dried, death shroud that encased

The Jovi in permanent, perpetual shadow

made him seem indestructible.

F***!

What the f***, dude?

Naseem's going nuts!

What happened to Hasselhoff?

The Jovi got him?

Did you not get Naseem's speech

to the troops today?

I did, I did.

This is the fifth client we've lost

to The Jovi in the last month.

He picked off Andy Cohen last week

and he got Seacrest yesterday.

Flew him to Vegas personally.

What? Jovi's a f***ing pilot?

Naseem thinks he's monitoring

our dispatch calls.

I mean, I... I don't know.

Oh, is that why those guys

were in the office today?

Yep.

They wired us up so we can

eavesdrop on The Jovi.

- So we're stealing his clients too?

- Tit for tat.

I want in. Jovi jacked Hasselhoff,

and I want to steal The Jovi's next client,

whoever it is.

And not to mention, babe,

but I need the cash, badly.

I'm way too good to you.

I'll keep my eye out for a big fish

and let Naseem know.

It might buy you a stay of execution.

- I'll call you back.

- Yes, indeed.

Here you go.

Here it is.

That is called "take-charge sh*t," son!

"That is called 'take-charge sh*t, ' son!

"Yes, indeed. Yes, indeed.

"Hi, my name is Stretch,

"aka Billy Big Balls With Bad Ideas."

Karl would appear to me occasionally

when I was exhausted or otherwise beat.

I thought you hated this job?

Doesn't mean I can afford to lose it.

Wearing a mustache

that he said he grew in hell.

Just drink.

You're so boring. Do some blow.

- Anything...

- I need you to leave me alone.

I'm not here, dicksmoke! I'm a figment.

I'm your fragile, fagotty mind!

Fracturing from lack of sleep,

anxiety, weakness...

Failure.

I knew it was in my head, but lately,

he was showing up more and more.

You know, right before I blew my head off,

I rolled the gun barrel in powdered sugar.

It was between that and cake batter.

Which way are you leaning?

I couldn't kill myself.

You are killing yourself, fuckwit!

All right, so that was just dumb luck.

Iggy tracking me down,

making me late for Hasselhoff.

I gotta stay positive.

I'm pretty sure karma owes me one now.

F*** me!

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