Henri assailed by the Cell Phone

Skylark and Currency of Tears were out late carousing one night at one of the hundreds of Irish pubs in the area. “Look, the streetcar” shouted Skylark, as he fumbled in his pocket for five quarters. “Damn, not enough, brah. Stop here for a minute.”

At the stop a short figure bounded down from the red electrain. He had to cross the street right in front of them. He walked slowly through the light traffic and scowled the carousers as he grunted his way past them.

His phone rang and he pressed the flat chunk of it to his ear. Immediately, a torrent of works poured out at maximum volume. “Henri, henri hear, you scoundrel. You scallywag, you scampering snagglepuss…”

Henri endured this onslaught, and kept walking, finally shutting off the sound somewhere further down the street.

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