The return of Peter, Paul and the wifes in law CHAPTER THIRTY
THE RETURN OF PETER, PAUL AND THE WIFE-IN LAWS
Mike Bloomberg and Tony Blair in Jeffrey Epstein's little black telephone book.
Epstein had five phone numbers for Mike Bloomberg
"Abraham Maslow is the man."- Peter The Pimp.
Trump's's opus rolls on:
I was driving back to the track from the Bazooka Corner with Betty, (who likes bazooka as much as Holly) sitting in front next to me when out of the blue a taxi (a repainted Minnesota Highway Patrol car or some such thing) driven probably by some unlicensed fugitive passed me on my right and stopped dead in its tracks. I hit the brakes. I could see that Peter, Paul and Holly were sitting in the back of the cop car/taxi. Winter is coming, maybe that's why they came back from Canada. I could also see Paul paying the undocumented fugitive and the rear passenger side door swung open. Small world. They piled into my car. Peter didn't acknowledge Betty sitting up front beside me but he said "oh, you Mackin' now Dude?" I didn't answer, just said "where to after I drop Betty off?" Peter said "Monaghan Diner. We need to have a little meeting." Betty said "I'll get out right here." I pulled over to the side to let Betty out of the taxi. She hopped out but she said "look for me, okay?"
We get to the Monaghan Diner and we all sit down. Peter nods to me and says "it's on me Donald." So I don't want him to think that I'm going to take advantage of him not right now anyway so when the waiter comes by I'll tell him "just give me a medium rare turkey burger and a Diet Coke." Peter looks at me. He's squinting one eye and he says "you sure that's all you want Donald?" I tell him "yes." Thinking it over maybe he was insulted.
Peter has an agenda. This is what he said: "shit is going to get bad to worse on the street. Even up in Toronto the cops are getting obnoxious. Something's in the wind and I'm going to batten down the hatches."
Paul says "we gonna step up a couple of notches, move the shit indoors, do party buses, boat rides, shit like that."
So I speak up "where do I fit in in this plan Peter?" Peter says to me I need to get a haircut, shave every day and get some decent threads because I can knock on doors without getting killed, injured, ignored or just locked up. "I want us to move in on the biggest mansion in this town my man. I got word they got the biggest, baddest pimp in the world up in there."
So I ask him, "no offense", if he isn't biting off more than he can chew. This sounds like a whole lot more than party buses and Duane's List to me. "Depends on what kind of bus you're talking about my guy" Paul sez to me. "And this guy already has a list to knock your socks off. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth Henry. Don't forget Peter is smarter than he looks to you. Don't be stupider than you look to me."
So we head up to Madison and 71st. It's around two thirty in the morning so there's no problem parking and so I park like Peter said to. Peter and me walk over to this big ass mansion. It's snowing a little bit, a flurry, but really freezing cold. No snow is sticking in front of this house. The main front door is about as tall as three people and there's the letters J E carved in stone. We were not there two minutes when a cop car pulls up. They checked our IDs, asked Peter what he's doing there and all this shit. Then they left.
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