I was emptying the spittoons getting ready for the Friday Night Happy Hour and wasn't paying attention. Happens every time.
Uncle Bob came in through the front with a newspaper folded over in front of him. Everyone knows Bob can't read! Quartermain came in through the back with a violin case, wearing a fedora and sunglasses. Oh yeah, that woulda set the alarms off... and if that didn't, the sight of WC and BW in spats, cuff links and pin striped suits would have!
The girls were pros at least. Bob set it off: the newspaper fell away and he started banging away with at .38! When the boys pulled their heaters and started shooting up my bar - the gals just kept singing like champs as if nothing unusual was going on! Somebody hit the spittoon I was carrying and it emptied its contents all over my new suit! Bottles of gin, vodka and scotch exploded as Quartermain cut loose with that Thompson chopper of his - the one with the drum magazine. I dived behind the bar and pulled Old Slabsides and was gonna return fire when Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump came in and let those bastids have it with the MP5's and Stetchkins. The buggers all escaped... but we're all breathing and the girls sound great.
Enjoy your Friday night everyone, and remember to drink and shoot responsibly! :)
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