Why I Wouldn't Make a Successful Assassin

[mallorys_camera]

People were just fuckin’ nuts yesterday. Driving crazily, and more irate and abusive than usual.

I’d finally coaxed this one guy into talking to me—an old style fringe hippie who discovered the Joy of the Second Amendment relatively late in life.

A woman he described as “the mother of my child” was part of his household.

I always find that an interesting description.

In the copious writings on Ben’s computer that I rifled through after his death, I found sentimental essays about practically everyone he’d ever known. Not just friends and family. Random people he sat next to at bus stops! But the few times he ever referred to me, he described me sans name as “the mother of my son.”

This confirmed my impression that Ben heartily disliked me by the time he died.

Anyhoo, Second Amendment Hippie was okay with giving me his demographic details and his son’s demographic details, but didn’t want to say anything about “the mother of his child.” This was just fine with me: The Constitution mandates a count but doesn’t say anything about the collection or aggregation of personal information.

Towards the end of the interview, the mother of his child wandered out. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

“The National Counting Project is the basis for the federal government’s matching grants to the states!” I explained brightly. “It’s used to determine everything from road repairs to food stamps and Medicaid.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” she said with deep contempt. “I was talking to him. You’re very rude, aren’t you? You should learn to keep your trap shut.”

I snapped.

Gave her my best Sicilian malocchio. Smiled. “I get it,” I said. “Look at your life! You feel so powerless. The only thing that makes you feel powerful is dishing out shit to people you think have no recourse except to take it. Have a great day!”

Their mouths fell open.

And then I sprinted to my car and got the hell out of there before they could see the name on my name badge or the license plates on my car!

My hands were shaking.

Adrenalin rush!

I’d never make a successful assassin.

I was right around the corner from the Union Cemetery, so I ducked in there and sat staring at the graves for 10 minutes or so while I gained my composure.

People are such assholes.

And yet, they all die and the same sky arches over them, blue, magnificent, half-obscured by fairy-castle clouds.

Comments

[asakiyume]

Wohoo! That is salutary all the way around. Salutary for you to not have just taken it, salutary for me to read, and probably salutary for them to hear.

And/But yeah. What you say at the end.

[rebeccmeister]

My sentiments exactly!

[mallorys_camera]

Thanks! 😀

[mallorys_camera]

Thanks. Bullies infuriate me.

[smokingboot]

Well done. What a cow!

[mallorys_camera]

I know, right? Grr-rr-rrrr!!! 😀

[gale_storm]

Well done! Boo-yah!

[mallorys_camera]

::Curtseying:: Thank you, ma'am. 😀