"'Morning Mitch, am I allowed in?"

"Well that depends son, do you have a permit from Rowena?"

"Eer no, no I don't."

"Then I suppose you're not allowed in."

"Well Vincent came in only an hour ago, he didn't have a permit?"

"Well I wasn't here an hour ago, Wayne and Duncan were. So excuse me son if I don't give a bloody fuck if your barmy brother was pissing up the wall!"

"Alright Mitch calm down," said the woman next to him.

"Piss off Jess," he replied. "Son, I'm going to give you three options here. One, you bugger off back to the nearest fag parade. Two, you go and get Rowena to write a little form for you, then you go in. Three, you go in without the form and I put a bullet in your leg and drag you out."

Patrick sighed and walked away. I need to get in here," he thought "But how?". It was then he saw Larson off in the distance. That's when a new idea came to his head.


David woke up the morning after, Patrick next to him. He remembered the task at hand. He was ready to grab a knife, and fuck up Mitch’s lips. I what Patrick told me, is that he asked Mitch to let him in, but Mitch roasted him without his consent. He grabbed my knife, and my gun, and went downstairs.

“Oh, hey David. How are you doing?” Mitch asked, trying to act casual, and cross his fingers that David didn’t know that he fucking assaulted his fiancée yesterday. David stepped right up into his face, and hit him in the temple with the back of his hand so hard that he fell to the ground, not unconscious yet.

“What the hell, dude?!” He shouted.

“Don’t think Patrick hasn’t told me that you fucking snarked him.” David snapped, grabbing him by the shirt collar.

“With blood on your neck, Mitch!” David shouted, pulling out his knife, and slicing Mitch's throat, he was spitting it up, before he slumped lifelessly to the floor. David ran to Patrick, and kissed him, relieved that that asshole couldn’t roast him. Then I realised, that guy was going to turn.