Above,...I can see Richard Widmark getting out of that gigantic Hudson or whatever. He strolls over smiling to the gent peaking in the corner. He smoothly pulls out a .38 roscoe, and plugs the guy six times.
He bends over still smiling, “…da boss sez no dice”.
With that she shrugs walks back to his Postwar-mobile.
Lighting a Chesterfield gets in drives away to have lunch with his favorite skirt at Luigi’s.
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