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Uh, let's see. Meth lab proprietor (pay attention in all your chem. courses), beef cloner, and, oh this is a good one, you could become a gang-doc.
When gang members or underground boxers get hurt, they'll come to you. "Patch 'em up, doc," they'll say, stinking of bootlegged gin.
"I ain't yer servant, Micky," you'll say. "I work for nobody, ya hear? So don't tell me how it's gonna be."
"Just patch 'em up, will ya? I got a dame I need to get to-"
"-before someone else does?"
"You could say that. But you won't. Because you work for me, ya understand?" He pulls a revolver from the inside of his coat.
"Yeah, got it."
What were we talking about?
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