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Next Stop, Buffalo!

Yesterday, I was on an Amtrak train in upstate NY, hot on the trail of a shady arms dealer purported to be supplying RPGs to ISIS sympathizers in Buffalo.

In the cafe car I ordered The Glenlivet 30-year-old. At only $1,700 per bottle it was a bit more pedestrian than the spirits to which I am normally used--but I held my nose and coped with the inconvenience. After a few sips the room began to blur. I awoke several hours later in a private Pullman, with my tuxedo in disarray and this sinister creature looming above me.

The conductor announced..."Next stop Buffalo!"

What did I do next?

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Categories: Fiction

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