Story #43

The dealer wasn't understanding Nigel's predicament. "You see, I really need those roses. I want to smell roses and you have roses so, naturally, you should give me your roses so that I can smell them." The dealer was fine with this exchange, it's what he does after all, but there was one small holdup. "I told you before, a dollar a rose or ten for a dozen." Nigel sighed, "Well," and produced a knife. "You can't say I didn't ask politely." Nigel stabbed the dealer and ran off with the roses. The next morning, Nigel took a shit. It smelled like feces.