Another story by my strainge-fiction persona, Eric Stringer….. Mr. Thomas Pilsen was about to have a terrible time getting to the airport. He was sure of it. The cab was late, but as the cabbie said while checking the Timex strapped to the side of beef he called an arm, “Hey, only by six minutes. You need’a chill out, pal.” He’d tapped his own chest. “Hey, trust me. I know. Heart stuff, y’know? You keep freakin’ over little stuff, you’ll be like me. Heart stuff.” Then he got into the driver’s seat. Through the rolled-down window, he said, “So you comin’ or what?”
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