Now, what person with three hours to kill wouldn't go into a place like this? I mean honestly. So I walked up to the door and found that it was locked. Inside I could see two men, one was older, relatively non-descript; the other was a young guy with bleach blond hair. The blond guy was wearing all black with black pinstripe pants and one of those zoot-suit chains.
I noticed by the door there was a little sign that said you need to ring the doorbell to be let in. I did, and the shop keep (who looked like Rich Vos) looked confused and buzzed me in.
"Can I help you?" said the man with teeth, white like the sun.
"Oh, no, I was just passing by, had some time to kill," I responded.
"Yeah, that's why I have that sign."
He pointed to a crudely-made sign on the front door that I hadn't noticed that read: "Showing by Appointment Only." And it occured to me that I may have just stumbled into to something very very bad. Suddenly I realized that the guy in the pinstripe pants might not be just some douchebag, private-dick wannabe, but could be (in fact) a Euro-trashy Russian mobster.
"Oh (nervous chuckle, nervous chuckle), sorry about that guys," I said, backing away to the door.
After that all I remember is being handed a business card and walking quickly down the street, far, far away from the place. I walked by a few more times that evening, to see if the guys were still there, they weren't. I thought it might be fun to make an appointment sometime and go in to look at the tools people use to prove that their spouses are cheating on them, but then I realized that I want nothing to do with those guys... nothing at all.
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