the smuggler’s bible


In the movies there’s always a string crescendo and swirling wind. Moonlight shines in a white arc along the blade in the split second between guard and cut. Blood dapples the snow.

But this ain’t the movies. Ripley kills her sensei during the lunch rush in the middle of a mall parking lot.

“Jesus Christ, sun’s in my fuckin’ eyes,” she says, catching a glare off someone’s dirty 1994 Chevy Corsica. “Do we have to do this here?”

“I’m evil now, remember?” Ripley’s sensei scowls arrogantly. “I have no honor.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ripley says. “This sucks.” And then they draw.