Pulp Fiction $5 Shake 소설 & 이야기

"And make the shake thick." I turned to Raphael, who was standing three feet behind me, looking like a misplaced god in a world of plastic booths. "What do you want?" He looked at the grease glistening on the grill and curled his lip in genuine physical pain, "I don't put that disgusting, processed garbage into my body. It’s practically poison." "Suit yourself." I turned back to the cashier. "Just the one meal, please." The kid tapped on the screen, "That’ll be fifteen-fifty."

She was warm and friendly with an extra chirp to her cherry voice. "Just two cups of milkshake" I said happily. "Do you have a particular flavour you'd love?" "Vanilla and peanut butter with banana shakes please" She nodded her head before getting it done. She moved around, putting one and two together before placing two cups of milkshake onto the counter before me. "That would be 20 dollars" she said, expectedly. I pulled out a 50 dollar note and handed it to her. She took out some change and handed it to me before I took my drinks and walked away.

Teardrops fell into my Tequila but I didn't care, I drank it anyway and ordered another one again. "Miss, I just want to inform you that you have reached the maximum limit of Tequila shots, do you wish to extend?" the Barista asked me. "Uhm, nah. I'm good, how much?" I asked. "That would be five thousand one hundred and thirty three pesos, Miss," he said. I took my wallet and pulled out all of the cash I have. "Can you help me count it?" I asked him while he was smiling at me. He was cute but I'm not into men right now. One spineless guy is enough.

Dante’s knuckles whitened on the paper, veins bulging. “This evening, and you tell me now?” he roared. “Sorry, Dante, just got the call…” “Mobilize everyone! Hunt those bastards who dared steal from me!” He smashed the phone down, his boot slamming into the table with a splintering crack. “Fucking bastards!” He stormed out, the door banging shut behind him. I sat frozen, the screens blurring through my wide eyes, my mind reeling at the escalating chaos, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might crack my ribs. The screen blurred. My hands trembled on the edge of the desk. Then the first gunshot cracked outside.

I peeked up at Pazzi only to see him scowling at me, knowing what I wanted. I pouted and flipped the page so that I could see their pizzas. I decided to go with the ’seafood miracle’, it did indeed sound like a miracle. Once we had ordered, we got our drinks served. Pazzi ordered a cola with a lemon slice and I ordered their chocolate milkshake, just like yesterday. ”You really are stuck to your ways aren't ya?” He said sarcastically as he looked at me with boredom. ”Have you tried this? If that pizza is a miracle then this is a fucking unicorn,” I said as I took a big gulp of the shake.

Russo asked, pointing at the stuffed purple panda inside. I nodded, determined. “Yes.” “Isn't that a little weird? A purple panda?” He smirked. “Well, let me try.” I scoffed. “Please, move, you’re not winning this.” “Wanna bet?” I crossed my arms, challenging. “Go ahead.” He cracked his knuckles dramatically before gripping the joystick, his tongue poking out slightly as he maneuvered the claw. I watched, skeptical, until— The claw gripped the panda. Lifted it. Dropped it into the prize chute.

"When would you have done that?" "I don't know, but I still feel that way." Our tattooed bartender showed up, and Gemma turned to her. "Four of your cheapest beers that come in bottles, please," she said. The bartender raised an eyebrow, glancing at the fancy cocktails we'd just been drinking, but shrugged and produced four bottles of Pabst Blue Ribbon from under the bar. "Ten dollars," she said, and Gemma handed her a Ten and three Ones. The bartender winked at Gemma and then was off to other customers.

Blackfive promptly slapped him across the face, leaving him on the verge of tears. He would never dare to breathe a word now and was even smiling fawningly as he watched Frank and the others leave. Frank then paused. "Oh, and about damages…" "Oh! Right, yes, of course." Blackfive promptly whipped out a gold card from his pocket, smiling. "There's five hundred grand in here, Mr. Lawrence. You can use the money at this bar and consider it my compensation…" Frank did a double take—he actually was going to ask how much he had to pay, but Blackfive got the wrong idea and thought Frank was coercing him instead.

They spun on poles and twirled their bodies in ribbon. “Is this a strip club?” I asked. A waitress came over with nothing on but a bikini top and a thong, aside from a chain leash that sat over her shoulder, handing me a clear shot glass with a red liquid inside. I sat horrified until Geoffrey took it from me preemptively. “It’s not a strip club, wolfy,” Geoffrey hummed, downing the crimson shot that had to be blood judging its thick consistency. “It’s a puncture and pleasure private club!”

After thorough consideration, Vince forced a smile and said, "Mr. Ballard, you're right. As long as it doesn't involve murdering anyone, I can close an eye for some slight punishments." "Great!" Sebastian pointed at the shattered glass and said to Jerry, Logan, the manager, and the waitress, "There are four glasses here and four of you. Each of you will eat one glass. "Also, didn't you say these glasses are imported crystals and that they are worth 50 thousand? Fine, I'll accept this price, but each piece of shattered glass will cost 50 thousand. So, cash or card?" The waitress and manager immediately fainted when they heard his words.