Marvin Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

I was still in my loose stained towel, hoping it wasn't going to slide down my chest as Saint stared at me, making me bring my legs towards myself and rub my two feet together uncomfortably. "Why're you redying your hair at almost one o'clock in the morning?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I couldn't sleep and I was bored. And also the colour was starting to fade out." I answered pretending to look at everywhere but him. "I'll g...go get painkillers." He said even more awkwardly and left. I had no idea why he looked so horrified when he saw me on the floor. I mean, he was a Mafia boss and he had obviously seen scenes even worse than this of which he must have created some of those

“No, like who was it? Rohmer! He did Fu Manchu around then too and hung out with them.” “Well, isn’t that something. How much?” “Thirty-five.” A complete rip off, but the proprietor’s hippy funk began to overpower Jon’s gag reflex. He threw down the cash and retreated with his prize. Mutterings by the old man about this “slacker generation” and kids who “had no respect” and were “dumb as shit” followed him out the door.

He didn't care how much he was hurting Milly despite him cheating on her in the first place which had her questioning if everything in their relationship was fake. He was treating her like a leper. Like she was carrying the most hideous being and until it was out he wanted nothing to do with her. He was treating her worse than garbage, worse than shit something that she already felt believing the shit Mulvey had out in her head about him caring and giving a shit about her when all he was doing was the bidding for Warren and his big debut with that damn stupid libido drug which was now proved to have side effects if you hadn't had it for a certain amount of time and sent you into the worst wi