I hired a Hitman! CATS PART 4
I have not written for a while but I have been busy fighting the mouse wars and working on my 'Beautiful but not Sexy' post. The post is coming soon but there is an update on the war.
A professional, a 'hitter' as they call them in the business has been suggested to me. I decided to take the suggestion and investigated the possibilities. I sent my wife and kids to a seedy bar (the pound) to find a 'hitter'. No luck, by the time she left her throat was clogged with cat hair. Besides this is not a viable route because the older, most retarded daughter will get attached. Then when I send him back to the pound I will be the bad guy.
I turned to the only other place I could to find a hitter. I got the number from 'a friend of ours'. I could tell he was mobbed up when he knocked on my door. The hard foreign accent, the steely cold blue eyes and ORKIN written on his shirt were the only signs that this guy was a pro. He was exactly what I needed. A low profile hitter.
"So I hear we got a problem" he says with no emotion in his voice.
"Yea, can you handle it?" I asked.
He just stared at me like I wasn't even there. Like he could kill in between bites of a tuna sandwich and not think twice. A chill went up my spine. He didn't answer and he didn't have to. He was the man for the job.
He brushed past me to get a lay of the land. He carefully laid out a traps to make the hit over a meal. Much like Michael Corleone in "The Godfather" when he killed the police captain.
"You, no worry about your problem" he said, "Your problem is our problem and your problem is as good as dead. Now, in two days you go to the hotel and bring your pretty wife back home."
"Thanks, hitter" I said.
"Don't mention it."
That's all I got!
I'm out!
44Black
A professional, a 'hitter' as they call them in the business has been suggested to me. I decided to take the suggestion and investigated the possibilities. I sent my wife and kids to a seedy bar (the pound) to find a 'hitter'. No luck, by the time she left her throat was clogged with cat hair. Besides this is not a viable route because the older, most retarded daughter will get attached. Then when I send him back to the pound I will be the bad guy.
I turned to the only other place I could to find a hitter. I got the number from 'a friend of ours'. I could tell he was mobbed up when he knocked on my door. The hard foreign accent, the steely cold blue eyes and ORKIN written on his shirt were the only signs that this guy was a pro. He was exactly what I needed. A low profile hitter.
"So I hear we got a problem" he says with no emotion in his voice.
"Yea, can you handle it?" I asked.
He just stared at me like I wasn't even there. Like he could kill in between bites of a tuna sandwich and not think twice. A chill went up my spine. He didn't answer and he didn't have to. He was the man for the job.
He brushed past me to get a lay of the land. He carefully laid out a traps to make the hit over a meal. Much like Michael Corleone in "The Godfather" when he killed the police captain.
"You, no worry about your problem" he said, "Your problem is our problem and your problem is as good as dead. Now, in two days you go to the hotel and bring your pretty wife back home."
"Thanks, hitter" I said.
"Don't mention it."
That's all I got!
I'm out!
44Black
posted by 44Black at 4:33 PM
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