"Get back here" one of them shouts. I will show them what it means
to mess with me.
I reach into my jacket's pocket for my pocket knife. Where the heck
is it? "Fuck me" I say annoyed, realising I forgot it.
I never leave without some sort of protection. I guess I thought
I lost track of the Russians. Clearly not. Those fucking dogs are
following me everywhere I go.
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