Well, a lot of stuff has transpired in the last week. A stripper party, suicide threats, dates, and a promise to have “a gun put to my head in front of my friends and my brain splattered across their faces.”
I reckon it’s time to get the fuck out of here. Disappear. My bug out bag needs to be updated and repacked. I don’t have much money to my name. South America is a dangerous continent, but it’s my top choice to escape to considering my resources. I hate the jungle. I better get immunized soon so I don’t fucking die by mosquito. I’d rather be taken out by the cartel.
Me: I’m dodging bullets left and right… I just can’t outrun them.
Raymond: You gotta be Superman.
I’m sorry, Ray. I can’t.