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There was some more commotion. From his hiding spot, Cool saw about 14 absolutely stunning naked women pour through the hole that the cyborg had put in the wall.

"Will you play with us?" asked the first hottie, easily a DD cup.

"Too bad they're talking to that dick-headed cyborg" Cool muttered under his breath.
 
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Cool low crawled his way to the rear wall of CCI's place, ducking behind the curtain and making his way into the performer's changing room. All hell was breaking loose in the main room.

Somebody was shooting up the place. The cyborg had someone by the throat. It was the security cop, he had fondled one of the 14 naked women. They were cyborg's too and cyborgs always protect their cyborg women.

Cool broke into a run and as he made it to the rear door, and ran straight into CCI. "This is Mr Smith and Mr Wesson and we don't like anyone, or anything, messing with our bar," he muttered, and walked right into CCI's.
 
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Then, apparently an effect of a stray gunshot, the large screen television flickered into life on the far wall.

"Holy boobie-licious" groaned CCI. "Look at all that porn." He was, of course, referring to the images flashing across the television screen. Cyborgs forgotten, CCI grabbed a tub of popcorn with one hand, and unsnapped his gunbelt with the other.
 
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"looks like I'm in for a long night"

Cool turned away from the "occupied" bar owner. As he attempted to collect his thoughts, there in the doorway stood the young lady he had just paid $500.00 for merely looking good.

"Can you get me out of here?"

Cool nodded, picked her up around her waist, tossed her over his shoulder and made for the back door. The young lady, wearing nothing but a bra and g-string, let out a small fart.

Cool pretended not to notice.
 
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Cool made his way into the parking lot, and put the girl down next to his car. He opened the door and motioned her in. By the time Cool made it around to his door she had let another fart slip. This one smelled a little. Again, he pretended not to notice.
"What's your name, stud?" she asked.
"Cool" was his response, as he lit a cigarette.
"I like it, I'm Bertha." she said.
"WTF, I can't be hanging out with no girl named Bertha, how about I call you Candy?" asked Cool.
 
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"Candy's fine with me." She put her fingers in a V asking non-verbally for a smoke. She biffed again.

"Can I ask you something?" He said as he lit a smoke and handed it to her.

"Sure hon"

"Candy, you've ... ummmm.. you've farted 3 times now. Did you have beans for dinner, or is this a" he was interupted.

"A what... a problem?" Bertha put heavy emphasis on problem, it made Cool uncomfortable.

"Well, no.. not a problem, but something I need to get used to?"

She biffed again, and laughed. "No, darlin. I had mexican for dinner. I do it every night I dance. Doing what I do, a lot of $2.00 'studs' figure I'm hot for em. Let out some gas, and pow.. no more hassle."

Cool figured Candy might be the smartest stripper he had ever met.

"Well done" He congratulated her. "Of course, I'm a $500.00 stud."
 
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Candy took the lit smoke and pressed the burning cherry against Cool's arm.

"You like that?" she asked.

"No, I don't." replied Cool. "Now I'm going to have to do this..."

Cool proceeds to strip her naked and duct-tape her, spread eagled, into the back seat.
 
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Candy smiled under the duct tape. Works every time, she thought.

Cool fired up the engine and started out of the lot. In his rearview mirror he saw CCI's roof on fire. "Damn, we got out of there in time"

"Mmmfff" Came the response.

Cool re-adjusted his mirror so as to be able to see Candy laying there.
 
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Cool realized he couldn't very well be driving down the road with a girl duct taped in his back seat, guns all over the place, and Digger rotting away in the trunk.
He untapes Candy and tells her "Don't ever pull some dumb shit like that again, got it?"
"Sorry, maybe you'd like some roadhead better." she replies.
 
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