132. The cops should take care of it.

"You had better go to your room, take out any traces of cigar in there and take it out of my house because if I find it, Oscar, you'll be dead." The master warned, his gaze capable of sending any man to an early grave. No one would expect less from a military man who had fought bloody wars and survived.

"Yes sir," Oscar uttered, his body shaking with fear as he made his way toward the room, but his master called back,

"Where is my money? its Saturday! you though that I forgot?" He asked.

"No sir," Oscar walked up to him, too scared to even count the money in his hand, he gave all six Dollars to his master and was about to walk away again, but was called to take back his two Dollars.

As Oscar got back into the room, he quickly closed the door behind him and heaved a sigh of relief, his skin had once again escaped the wrath of his mater's belt, but now he had to get rid of whatever would put him at risk of ever taking that belt again, he had sworn that the first time he got bea