Gerard Killings paced back and forth with his hands tucked
in his trench coat pockets. He gazed around at the animal trophies mounted on
the wall while shaking his head in disgust. Deer heads, tiger rugs, bear dolls,
and fox pelts made this politician’s home feel like an animal graveyard.
Protecting Senator Schneider from assassination filled Gerard’s eyes with
dollar signs, but his heart with emptiness. He felt no different from a street
whore selling her body for cocaine. The mercenary plopped down on the zebra
striped couch and ruffled his clean shaven head and face.
He snapped out of his disgusted trance and leapt into
business mode when he heard the sound of wood creaking in the next room. Gerard
pulled two sais
from his trench coat pockets and crept towards the kitchen. When he arrived, he
saw that the scene hadn’t been disturbed except by an elderly dog lying on the
floor snoozing away. The irony wasn’t lost on Gerard as he shook his head some
more while holding the bridge of his nose.
The time to earn his paycheck arrived when Gerard felt a
heavy presence crash down from overhead. He dropped his sais and gasped for air as he felt a furry
arm wrapped around his neck with a knife pointed into his jugular. A feminine
voice whispered, “Don’t even think about it. I’ll slash you from asshole to
appetite if you move one inch.”
Gerard didn’t listen. He snatched his assailant’s wrist and
chomped down on her arm with the strength of a bear trap. The furry female
yelped and back flipped off of her opponent, leaving a smattering of blood
across the floor. Gerard used this valuable time to crawl quickly across the
floor to retrieve his sais .
Before he could lay one finger on them, he felt a knife graze his scalp as it
flew into the kitchen cupboard.
The mercenary blinked tightly in pain while pressing a hand
to his wound. He opened his eyes just widely enough to see that his assailant
was dressed in black ninja gear except for part of her face and arms, which
were covered in animal fur (and blood from the bite wound). She angrily
whispered, “You’re one dead motherfucker!” before pulling out a katana and
lunging towards a seated and prone Gerard. The mercenary moved his head just in
time to avoid being decapitated. The fuzzy ninja slashed and lunged some more
only to have Gerard tuck and roll out of the way every time.
Mr. Killings, still on his back, kicked the ninja in the
head and dazed her long enough for him to wrap both ankles around her neck and
flip her over. She crash landed into the kitchen cupboard, but accidentally
landed on the sleeping dog. The dog yelped and crawled pathetically across the
floor. Both fighters were distracted by the condition of the elderly animal, so
much so that the ninja crawled across the floor and petted the little guy. “I’m
so sorry,” she gently whispered. “You poor little sweetheart.” The ninja’s
petting caused the dog to roll on her back and kick in the air.
“Wait a damn minute here,” said Gerard before he nipped up
and ripped the ninja’s mask off to reveal she was a humanoid fox. The ninja
gasped and crab-walked backwards, knowing her identity was plain to see. “Why
am I not surprised? Misty Blades, anti-hunting activist. You’ve been all over
the news talking about using peace and love to advance your cause, yet here you
are trying to stick a blade in my fucking neck.”
Misty waved a dismissive paw and scoffed, “Like your
politician friend is any better. Have you seen all the animal corpses around
his house? And what about you? You’re guarding this place, so you’re every bit
as guilty. Now you have to involve a poor little doggy into this.” She petted
and kissed the dog some more, much to the little pooch’s smiling delight.
“Do you need help there, Gerard, or can you do it yourself
like you were paid to do?” asked Senator Randy Schneider, who stood in the
bedroom doorway dressed in a blue bathrobe holding a peacemaker handgun. He had
a calm demeanor about him despite finding Misty Blades in his kitchen. “What
are you waiting for, Gerard? Must I hold your hand?”
“You’re actually going to listen to this guy?” asked Misty.
“I saw you making those faces at the animal trophies. You’re just as disgusted
as I am. You could finish this right now if you wanted to.”
Randy sighed, “And how exactly does he plan on doing that,
Miss Blades, if that is your real name? I’m the one with the gun and you two
are just sitting there with your knives up your asses. That’s the thing about
hunting, my friend: you need the best weapons. You think I claimed all of those
deer heads with a fucking katana? Hell no. I was smart enough not to bring a
knife to a gun fight.”
“Guns are for cowards!” belted Misty. “Killing animals is
just as cowardly. Why in the hell would anybody want to support your new bill,
Senator? You fucking right-wingers are all the same. You’ll protect an unborn
fetus, but you’ll gladly shoot a defenseless creature. Don’t think for a minute
that your gun is going to save you now. All the firepower in the world means
jack shit without the fighting skills to back them up.”
Randy squeezed off a shot and only managed to tear a piece
of fur off of Misty’s cheek before the ninja leapt across the room and held a
blade to the politician’s throat. Senator Schneider shook so hard that he could
be confused for a Parkinson’s patient. No amount of pathos could wipe the look
of white hot, drooling rage from Misty’s vixen face. “Gerard! Help me!” Randy
shouted.
“Shut up, you whimpering piece of shit! Stop whining and
start listening! When that bill hits the senate floor, that shit is dead on
arrival! If it isn’t, then you will be! What do you say/ Senator? Is your life
really worth having more animals die in your name?” grimaced Misty.
Little did the ninja know that Randy dropped the peacemaker
on the floor and slid it across to Gerard with his foot while shaking in fear.
Sure enough, the bodyguard picked it up and cocked it before pointing it at
both Misty and Randy.
“Don’t even think about it!” shouted Misty. “You put that
thing down or I’ll spill his throat all over the fucking floor! Then maybe I’ll
take him down to the taxidermist to get stuffed!”
“Just take the shot, Gerard; she’s going to kill us both
anyways!”
“Shut the fuck up! Both of you!” Gerard roared. “I am
getting sick and tired of this political bullshit! All I wanted was a paycheck
tonight and you two have turned this into a fucking nightmare! Maybe I’ll kill
both of you! Or maybe I’ll just kill you, Randy, and leave the fox lady to do
her bidding elsewhere! You think I enjoy looking at all of these animal
trophies?! They make me sick! In fact, I should probably throw up in that
orange face of yours right now! It can’t look any worse than it is now!”
Misty grinned at Gerard’s threat while Randy whimpered a
small prayer. This was it. That bill was going to die a nasty horrible death,
which could also be said about the pants-pissing Randy Schneider. Gerard
seethed with drooling anger like a rabid wolf ready to devour a hunter’s leg.
The animal analogy was perfect for the rage bubbling up inside of him. Mother
nature was ready to strike with a whirlwind vengeance.
“But then again…as much as I agree with Misty Blades more
than anybody else…she doesn’t write my paychecks!” said Gerard before he
squeezed off another shot and put a bullet in the fox ninja’s head. Her brains
splattered all over the kitchen floor as she fell to her death. The elderly dog
crawled over to her and licked her bloody wound like a bowl of puppy chow.
“Dogs are such filthy creatures,” said Randy with a chuckle.
“Then again, so was that crazy bitch. You put on a hell of a show, Gerard. You
had me going for a minute there. You’ll get that paycheck just like I promised
you. Maybe if the bill passes, I’ll throw you an extra bonus so that your
cancer-stricken son can go to Disneyland . You
only live once, right? Well, I got to get to bed now. You did good tonight, my
friend. Oh, and did I mention you’re one hell of an actor?”
“I wasn’t acting at all, Senator. I still think you’re a
piece of shit for what you’re doing,” said Gerard as he handed the peacemaker
to his boss.
“Correction: I’m a piece of shit who’s going to send your
child to Space Mountain
“What do you want to do with Misty’s corpse?” asked Gerard.
“I’m sure I can find a nice place for her next to the lion’s
head. Goodnight!” said Randy from the bedroom before he flicked off the light
and yawned.
Gerard plopped back down on the zebra-striped couch and
stared at his blood-covered hands. His whole body felt as though he had just
taken a swim in a river of innocent blood. He did it all in the name of his
cancerous son’s happiness, but what if he ever found out how he achieved that
happiness? Could Gerard keep this secret forever? So many guilty thoughts ran
through his mind at a million miles an hour.
A single tear dropped from his eyes and he could do nothing
about it but bury his face in his murderous hands. He had no choice, just like
anybody voting for Randy Schneider or his opponents. The system owned him. If
they wanted him to dress in a turkey suit and dance like a monkey, he would do
it if it meant a hefty payday. Maybe he wouldn’t feel nearly as guilty if he
sucked dicks for a living. How sad. How relentlessly sad.
