I can't help it. I enjoy the crazy names that appear to be sending me spammer e-mail. I don't generally want to write a novel, but the potential character names offered by spam are so tempting.
Garland Mocco awoke one morning with hazy thoughts of lovv-priced medicines, rubbing his eyes. He rolled out of bed and shuffled to the john to see to pee and check on the size of his member. "No changes yet," he mused aloud. "Better increase my dosage today. Maybe three pi11s tonight?"
After a quick shovver, Mocco got dressed and drove to the coffee shop to meet his contact. He didn't dare arrive late: Numbers Bohley is not a man to fuck around with.
Mocco slid into a booth with a view of the parking lot and waited.
"What can I get you, hon?" the waitress asked.
"Coffee, black. Is Alvera your real name? Did I say that right? It's pretty."
"Yeah, thanks. You want some eggs, toast?"
"Just the coffee, thanks."
Numbers Bohley slammed into the booth when Mocco's coffee had already grown cold.
"Listen up, Mocco. There's a dame we need you to take care of. Name's Leola Courtney. It would mean a lot to Mr. Bost if you could help Leola out wid her vacation plans. She wants ta go ta da seashore, and I hear you know some good places she could stay."
"M-mister Bost?" Mocco stammered. "Arnulfo Bost? Uh, yeah, okay, I can find her a nice place right on the water. I hear it's real pretty this time of year."
"This Leola dame? She ain't some low-class broad. She comes from money. So you're gonna need to use a classy name. Something like Harrison...Hoagland...no, Harlan Spotwood. Here's where you can find her."
Mocco looked at the slip of paper Numbers had shoved toward him.
"Awright, I'm on it, boss."
Numbers Bohley left as quickly as he had come. And Mocco felt an unfamiliar tingling.
Garland Mocco left five bucks on the table for Alvera and locked himself in the bathroom near the diner's entrance. Shaking, he unzipped his pants. He pulled out his johnson and was astonished to see that it was a good three inches longer than it had been earlier that morning. The all-natural member-embiggening formula actually worked! He manipulated his oversized member back into his pants, took a deep breath, and zipped up.
Leaving the bathroom, Mocco walked back toward Alvera. "'Scuse me, Alvera, would you please have dinner with me tonight?"
While he waited for her answer, Garland Mocco knew. He knew he was through with being a hired killer. He was through answering to men like Numbers Bohley. He knew he was through being lonely. He knew he could please Alvera if she gave him the chance; he could please any woman. He knew his johnson was finally big enough.