But not that one. That one is just a collection of rocks. Art on Eve Street. By Rust of all people.
—–
When he got the vehicle home, he found he had to get rid of the extra horsepower to fit it into the garage. Oh well: there’s always the pasture out back for when he needs it. “Albert, see to, er, Wilbur if you would please,” he said to his thought-to-be faithful servant, cooking up a name on the spot while handing over the reigns. “Some place with a lot of mowable grass to munch down on.”
“Right, sir.”
“And women. Don’t forget the women.”
“Sure thing, sire.” But he was talking to the horse now.
“Well — I’ll be,” Frank Lynn said to this surprising new turn, noting the long boner he had just thinking about it. What a grand scheme that dolphin wizard in the swamplands cooked up to make him the richest person in all of GTA V on top of being its most successful novelist. “Why not go all the way?” the wizard said about the original wish, knowing he had the power to amplify and extend. A chatting stallion would be worth more than the sum of all his cars, he realized while driving his VW with the now allowable headroom into his wide if not tall garage. He’d see to that challenged dimension too soon enough.
Sunklands 