It’s been a while since I last posted one of my old ficlets to my blog, so here’s one I wrote a little over a year ago.
Job Satisfaction
There was this lovely couple out on a date. Beautiful restaurant, nice live music. The meals were fantastic, we’re talking true works of art, here. The sauces, the smells, the flavors… I would’ve felt terrible if I’d chosen to do it then. So I waited.
They were in that place for what seemed like a small ice age, before they’d decided to move on to a late-night walk in the park. Nice open areas, very little lighting, and virtually no one else there save for a late-night jogger and some guy pullin’ his pants down at passing-by geese. That was where I chose to do it, and I chose to use the ol’-fashioned methods.
They were sat on a bench, just enjoying each other’s company. I still feel guilty about it, truth be told. But I did what I was paid to do – I pulled the trigger. I hit my mark. I packed my things, and I walked away.
In the corner of my eye, I could see the distraught look on his face, as he cradled his dying lover in his arms. I can still see him now. This job’s a real bitch. I shoulda been a Chef.
Commentary…
The idea of someone having such a “glamorous” job (albeit one as morally dubious as Assassin for Hire) that they absolutely can’t stand is something I’ve always enjoyed playing with. Hitmen are usually portrayed in stories as cold, heartless killing machines, and I wanted to imbue this guy with a little bit of soul. We all know someone who does their job not because they like it, but because it’s where their career path has led them to. I find myself wondering what led this guy to his current position.
In Retrospect…
Some of the punctuation on this piece is a little wobbly. I’d love to have gone into more detail about the events of the night itself, but there’s that 1,024 character limit. Maybe I’ll revisit this one day.