salut les mecs
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"So. Damien. Gonna answer anytime soon?"
"Huh?"
"Ugh! You're such an ass!"
He smiles. She tries again.
"Alright, I'll go first. I go in the front, I talk bullshit about his wife, he gets angry, I get angry, and then we chase each other out the store. You come in the back, you steal the thing, and bam! Done."
"Oh yeah? Just like that? Classic."
"Course. People don't expect the good old techniques anymore."
"A piece of advice?"
"No."
"I'd talk bullshit about the dog, not the wife. It's more painful when it's dead."
"You're advice? It's equal to megacrap."
He raises an eyebrow. She sticks out her tongue.
She never liked death. Death is only good to scare the shit out of people. It squishes them. It's because of death that we live in a world of misery. But the reality is that when we're dead, well, we're dead. It's the end. Emptiness. Peace. Vacation. Bye-bye. Yeah of course there's the people who survive you. But fuck them; it's their problem after all.
He has always liked death. He sees it as useful leverage. He loves asking strangers how they think they'll die. Most of the time, he gets no answer or a shocked glance. Sometimes, he gets a snigger. But his ultimate favorite reaction, it's when he gets a slap. It's so completely useless and, to be fair, actually quite audacious. People are so fun.
"So. Damien. How would you do it then?"
"Steal something?"
"Uh huh."
"In a store?"
"Yep."
"Just one register?"
"Yeah that's it."
"How many employees?"
"JESUS CHRIST"
"Easy peasy: I go in, I take the thing, and I leave. It works nine times out of ten."