SO LONGY McNULTY
JOHNNY McNULTY has fallen at the hands of a devious assassin. On Monday afternoon, the assailant arrived to Champions rehearsal studios and waited in a garbage room in the lobby with a sufficient surveillance view of the elevator bank. A true assassin is many things, but above hiding amidst refuse is not one of them.
After brooding in the trash room and scaring the shit out of several unwitting observers (including Shannon Coffey as well as a second passerby who pushed the elevator call button, saw the killer lying in wait, ran out of the building and never returned), the unfortunate Mr. McNulty arrived, listening to what we can only assume were ironically poignant strains of some bittersweet classical masterpiece on his noise-cancelling headphones. This state-of-the-art technology prevented the unwitting victim from hearing the assassin announce himself, but it was no matter. Two darts were delivered straight to his chest, and Mr. McNulty was dead.
Rest in peace, Mr. McNulty. You, like the contents of your assassin’s perch, are done for. Trashes to trashes, dumps to dumps.
20 REMAIN.
