
BTW when you are done reading this chapter. If you think thinking is fun; if you think philosophy should be for everyone try reading TheMapThinker.com
Damn. That was a haul. Guns. Drugs. Ammunition. And the way he acted he was not legit. He was a drug dealer, or a burglar, or something else on the sly. Which is what I waited so patiently for. Someone alone, with guns, who had something to hide.
Waiting paid off.
Pretty sure I killed him. But did that count?
It wasn’t face to face. Somehow that was very unsatisfying. It did not feel real. And when my target died it had to be face to face. He had to know who killed him and why. Otherwise it would be just like shooting a deer during hunting season. It would not be personal. It would be “just business.”
Okay, that guy may be dead and I may have done it, but I’m not going to count it. I need to do it and tell them face to face why they are dying.
I shot a couple of animals. That was easy. Explaining to them why they were dying was silly so I skipped that part. Although some of them just stood and looked me in the eye while I pointed the revolver at them. That was a bit creepy.
However I went ahead and pulled the trigger.
She was different though. And so easy to get in the car. I just drove up. There was no one else around but the two of us. She was dressed on the trampy side, enough to make a man look at her, but a lot of girls who weren’t in her business dressed a lot more provocative.
I knew she worked the corners because I had spent a lot of time cruising around and watching. I was getting worried because time was getting short. I needed to get it done before it was too late. But I did not want to pick one of the trades girls up when people were around to see.
So easy to get her in the car. “Do you want to help out a virgin,” I asked, smiling.
“Hey, Honey, virgins cost extra. Five hundred dollars, one hour tops.”
I pulled a big wad of bills from my pocket, rolled them into a tube bigger than my hand and stuffed them into the cup holder between the seats.
“Half hour and you will be finished,” I told her with a straight face. She slid in the passenger seat. Peeled off five hundred dollars and put the rest back. “Where we going?” she asked.
“Little place right off the road. Five minutes away.”
I drove behind an old house. The owners were gone visiting a sick family member. She didn’t say anything as we got out. She did not comment the back porch floor was covered in plastic. That was so I could wrap her up in it later and no blood stains would be left.
I pretended to be reaching for a key. Instead I was getting the revolver.
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