The transparent senior citizen puffed on a crumpled camel non filtered, with her left hand while franticly turning the pages of a brand new version of Blavatsky’s Theosophy.
The old woman kept one eye on the book, one eye on the broad and never missed an oppurtunity to flick an ash or turn a page.
“I am not going in.”
The man behind her answered, “You dont have to.”
“Good, I wasn’t asking I was telling, now beat it.” she quipped.
“I didn’t know you smoked?”
“I didn’t till that slut killed me. I always wanted to though. Vonnegut always made it seem so cool. Don’t you have something to do?”
“I guess, i ain’t goin in either. Wanna drink? It’s pretty good.”
The old woman turned to the traitor, and showed him the flask she had been clutching in the back of the book. “I got my own, but just out of curiosity, what kind of hooch does thirty pieces of silver buy you”?
An evil smile crept across the face of the Apostle, as he dabbed a small red drop of wine from the corner of his devious mouth.