The 200 Washington Complex isn't exactly one of my favorite places. It's half a mile or less from the square and a block from campus but it's filled with out of towners who live elsewhere part of the time. One of my least favorite customers lives here. We call him the enemy and in the previous post I've put a link to a story I published about him and as luck would have it the day before that story went live we were summond back to the enemy's place.
From the roof of the enemy's place. My first winter with The Window King we sprayed bleach on every piece of white you can see here, and more. I ruined a pair of pants doing it.
I don't understand why so many people with so much money want to live so close to each other. I've literly gotten lost in the 200 Washington Complex even though it's only a circle, but everything looks the same. Over and Over again.
The Enemy came out and shook my hand when we first arrived. He was pleasent and decent, women his own age probably call him dapper. They might even whisper to each other about why he stays with that pill popping wife of his. After finishing his place a series of events led to the money shot. 1. We had to clean the place across the way from the enemy. 2. The Window King had to go to the accountant's office and thus moved the van. 3. The Enemy sat on his porch, chewed a cigar and read. 4. I climbed the roof of the opposite condo.
AND THUS-----
That's a money-shot alright--for a sniper.
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