“It’s a wonder we’re still alive.”

“No, Micky, it’s just a wonder that twenty cops can’t hit two people.”

“That too.”

Micky Macro may not have the freshest batteries, but the boy is dependable. You can offer an afternoon of bullets, maiming, mayhem, and murder; all he’d ask in return is:

“When’s lunch?”

That’s why I divorced him. He’s always somewhere else… usually a buffet.

“You’re always hungry? Ain’t ya?”

“A full stomach keeps me goin’ and I didn’t get nearly full at breakfast.”

Story of my life: Three years divorced and I’m still feeding him.

Three years and he’s still sleeping on my couch…

“I need a new partner.”

“No, Junie, we need pizza. You can get a new partner when I’m dead.”

With my luck, he’ll live forever… “lucky… me…”

“What were you sayin’ Junie?”

“I’m out of carts. You got any more ammo?”

“Last clip, babydoll.”

“Don’t ‘babydoll’ me, just make those last few rounds count and you can have all the pizza you want once we make it to the drop.”

“Deal! I was just thinkin’ of hittin’ the automat on 82nd, but now that you’re offerin’, we’re gettin’ fancy!”

Don’t say it. I hate it when he says it.


That place is a rat hole.

“That place is divine! You remember when we went there on our first date?”

I should have taken that as a hint to what my future would look like. Now I wish I could get a REMmer to pull out all the memories.

“I wouldn’t trade that date for anything… even if we are divorced now.”

I’d trade it for a hole in my head… “two… two holes…”

“What was that? You gotta stop mumbling Junie. I can’t hear so well with all these guns goin’ off.”

“Well, then waste ’em and let’s get the hell out of here!”

“On it, Junie!”

If he wasn’t so damned good at Tek Smuggling, I would’ve kicked him to the curb years ago.


Then again, he still manages to make me laugh.