UNDERPANTSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Fern Bar Fridays: Exile Wants to Creep You All Over | BlackBook
And furthermore:
I’m pretty sure Marlon Hargis, the chap on keyboards, has already plotted my killing and, having purchased the necessary items (pipe clearing gel, a pair of pliers, a skein of rope and a bottle of Designer Imposters Mascolino men’s fragrance), is lying in wait for me somewhere just around the corner from my office. Which is terrible, because I don’t want to die in Turtle Bay.
