Shit. I must be losing my touch. I mean, com'on! I look dead in his eye. Give it everything I got. My best dead center 'I ain't kiddin' with yore ass' glare. I all but burned a hole through his temple with that stare. 'Lie to me,' I says. 'Set me up,' I says, 'and I swear on my mother, I'll find you. I'll burn down your house. I'll eat your cat. I'll sell your car. And after you've got nothing left, I'll kill you.' And with the barrel of my gun shoved into his cheek, he stutters, 'I-I ain't lying to ya, Casey. I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't.' I shoot down here then, probably a little too damned confident for my own good. Now here I am... Well... like my father used to say, 'Casey, if you always have goals, you'll always have a reason to keep going.' And right now I gotta get outta this alive so I can find that sonuvabitch and shove my foot squarely up his prickly ass. Yep. Goals. They keep life perky, don't they?