The Hit (Horrible Marriages Collection)

        “It's not that I never liked him – I liked  him enough -  if it mattered anyhow, which it doesn't,” she hissed.
        “I want him dead. I want it to hurt. I want him dead and then bring him back so you can kill him again, right away, right now…”
The hit-man squinted. “That's twice the cash, even if I could… I'm no expert, but even if I could, it ain't right...”
She smiled and the words sliced through clenched teeth, “You have no problem killing him once but..,” she said and shook her head.
        Stupidity. Killers. Assholes. Dropouts – they make it look like something in the movies.  A hit man is a losers loser: Bad breath, bad manners, dirty, filthy, stupid third-grade dropouts.
“Listen to me! Every week goes by I have to pay that schmuck to live, to breath, to exist in this world just to bust my ass and remind me of what a god damned fool I was in the very first god-damned place. Every check, every dollar in every check - every single cent in every dollar makes universes of hatred explode in my head! No more! Can you kill him with a pretzel? That would hurt! Do it!  No! Wait! I have a crow bar in the trunk – drive over there now,” she exhaled, spun sideways, took one deep breath and continued.
“If he calls me again, if he texts me again, if he sends me one more email about how I have to pay for one more god damned piece of dental work or asshole-doctor bill or lawyers bill – His lawyer is psychopath!! How can it happen? A lying, cheating, monster who should never have been allowed to survive birth!  - I'll pay you triple to kill his attorney! If you kill them together – make them watch each other die - I'll give you six million dollars….” The blood had flushed out and up darkening her face, a web of hate in veins emerged across her forehead.
The hit-man licked his lips. It was adding up.
“Lady, if I kill them both, together…” He smiled and she saw the missing teeth in the back, “And I do’em twice! How much is that?”
She was losing her grasp. “A hundred and sixty-six million! You could get new teeth! I have the cash in the trunk next to the crow bar! Believe it! One more threatening letter about how I'm a day late with the payment! Mother of God, he hasn't worked in eleven years and for that I have to pay? Because he can't pay for himself? What in Gods miserable plan is that?”
“Sounds fishy to me…” said the hit man, uncomfortably.
“I'm a woman!! It's supposed to be the other way around! I'm suppose to screw him silly! Not the other way around! Even the judge said it wasn't right – but the law is the law, is the law - and he wants to be a stay at home dad and I agree and now I have to pay for that? It's not even his kid! Did you know that! Because he's a good for nothing, mooching, low-life son of a bitch who tricked me, stole from me, lied and lied and cheated me and broke the law and lied again and used me and…”       She burst into tears.
“You’re a mess, lady.”
She wiped a line of tears from her face with a quick swipe.
“I'm a mess? Me? I'm a mess?” She stood and knocked the chair back and over. It bounced a few times on the tiled floor. The folks in the diner all turned their heads.
  “He  smiles at me in court! Did you know that? The same pretend smile he used when we were dating! Norwegian fisherman - my ass! The same pretend smile he used for the shrink when we were in therapy. The same smile he used to talk me and everyone else and himself into thinking he wasn't anything but human! HE’S NOT HUMAN!”
The words roared out of her mouth. She leaned back and the echo of the words blended into the words themselves and caused a horrible sound -  all of eternity - the sound of the pain and destruction of hope and peace and the collision of stars and…
        She fell backward, and collapsed across the overturned chair.
        The hit-man leaned over the table and watched the starburst blossoms of pink and red and blue grow beneath the thin flesh of the woman's forehead. She was dead. He stood, rolled a toothpick into his stupid mouth and grabbed the keys to her car from the table.
        “Yep,” he thought, “that's a hundred and sixty something million for me – and nothing for you!

The end.


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