The Professional

The doorbell rang and I checked the peep hole.  Outside stood a non-descript man in a ball cap and sunglasses.  I had second thoughts about opening the door.  I knew what this man was.  He was a killer plain and simple.   I sucked in my breath unlatched the deadbolt and opened the door. 

He said nothing just stood there with me looking at my reflection in the mirrored glasses.  Then he cleared his throat and said “Are you Gladys?” 

Nervously I nodded the affirmative as I looked up and down the street to see if my neighbors were watching.  “He’s over here” and motioned for him to follow me.  We entered the side yard and I closed the gate behind us again scanning the street. 

The man in the mirrored glasses chewed on a straw as we quietly walked to the back patio.  I motioned for him to be quiet and I put a finger up to my ear “Can you hear him?”

The man nodded the affirmative and crept the rest of the way around the house to the back patio.  I stayed back not wanting to watch what was about to take place.  Yes I had contacted him, but I really didn’t have a choice.   It’s amazing what people advertise on Craigslist.  It was difficult making the call but I knew my relationship wasn’t going to work.  I knew that he had to go.  The dogs didn’t like him and if they were younger they would have chased him down and killed him themselves.  I had tried to do the deed.  A little poison here and there, but I was afraid it wouldn’t kill him and then where would I be?  Besides what if one of the dogs got the poison and not him?  So I had called a professional killer.  There I admit it. 

It was so quiet.  What was the killer doing?  Had he already finished?  I couldn’t stand it anymore so I snuck around the side of the house.   There he stood on the hill above the patio his weapon of choice perched above the bastard waiting for him to make his move.  He stood waiting for what seemed like a lifetime and then he relaxed and made his way down the hill.  “Ms. Gladys that ain’t just one gopher you’ve got here.  That is a whole gopher village.  I’m going to have to treat the whole yard.  This might take a while but we guarantee complete eradication.” 

Yes I am now an accomplice to a gopher massacre, but I’m alright with it.

Great green globs of greasy, grimy gopher guts,

Mutilated monkey meat.

Dirty little birdie feet.

French fried eyeballs swimming in a pool of blood

And me without my spoon