Join the new world

When I'm hired to kill someone, I feel a special kinship with him, knowing that he continues with his shadow life not realizing how close I, his angel of death, hover over him. And I find it fascinating to observe the most intimate details of his life. After all, there is no pleasure in killing someone unless you know ...what sort of empty space you're creating by undoing his existence.

I come to his place of business as a delivery boy or a telephone repairman. I caddy for him on the golf course. I park his car at a restaurant. I work in the local dry cleaners and write out tickets for his clothes. I visit his home while he's away at work in order to meet his wife, attempting to sell her a vacuum cleaner. In fact, once I've gained her confidence, one of my greatest pleasures is to sleep with her, and then win the affection of his children by bringing them gifts and taking them to the circus.

But then, of course, the time comes when I must act. And it is like the consummation of foreplay--the firing of my gun an overdue explosion of ecstasy. This is why I put it off for so long because, once I squeeze the trigger, that's it -- the curtain falls, the drama is over. I light a cigarette, walk over to him and, with the tip of my shoe, roll him over so I can see his sightless eyes staring up. And I'm immediately filled with regret. What did I ever see in him, anyway? I can't understand the attraction. Why did I go to all the trouble to do this? And suddenly his wife seems less attractive, his children annoying, and the details of his life boring. I begin to think that no money is worth this aggravation. I pick up the inevitable Manila envelope, and take a cab to the airport.

But then, maybe 6 months or a year later, I begin to think maybe he wasn't so bad, after all. I pull out a picture of him and think back nostalgically to the time when he was alive, and I almost regret having killed him and wish he were still living so that I could kill him again.

I've killed people in museums, on street corners, in brothels, at diplomatic receptions, in the observation booths of fast moving trains, in the stacks of libraries, at the laboratories of medical research institutes, and in the conference rooms of large business enterprises. I've killed people in the middle of their phone calls, while they made love, as they lay unconscious on operating tables, or stood in line to purchase tickets to the ballet. I've killed them in public elevators, parking garages, sushi bars, massage parlors, magnetic resonance facilities, in the fitting rooms of expensive clothiers and at the offices of their analysts.

But still, I'm a normal man with normal feelings. I try to live a good life peacefully with my family. I attend church. I'm a member of the Kiwanis Club. At Christmastime I go caroling with my neighbors. If I'm invited to a dinner party, l always show up with a gift for the hostess. I also believe a gentleman should know how to set the table properly and that it's very important to hold up your end of a conversation. In the evening I like to listen to classical music, particularly Chopin. Sometimes I choose Joseph Hoffman, whose brilliant technical artistry is unsurpassed. Dinu Lipatti's playing of the D Flat Major Nocturne is perhaps the most heartrending and beautiful. And Arthur Rubinstein's nobility and exquisite control, especially in the ballads, is unique among pianists.

Look out Hungarians...

Jenkins67 aka The Modern Drunkard


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