This is a short vignette written during a prompt group for the Evanston Writer’s Workshop promp group.
I wish someone told me right from the start that this was going to be the last day of my life. There are so many things I would have liked to have taken care of. Sure, say goodbye to my wife and kids, maybe scratch the dog behind the ears one more time, all that sentimental crap. Nah, none of that is for me. I leave that stuff for some of the other schmoes out there, those that have a wife, or children, or a loyal dog that gives them undying love and affection. I don’t have any of those trapping of polite society hung around me neck. Me, had I known today was the end, I would’ve just gotten rip-roaring, off my ass drunk.
Yeah, yeah, I’m a shallow sonuvabitch. Get over it. I’ve been buying and selling people like you for almost thirty years. You got a business someone else wants, but you don’t want to sell because it supports your family? Too bad, sucker, looks like you just violated a health code, maybe failed a fire inspection, or, if I’m feeling really cocky, you just end up face-down in the gutter with your skull bashed in. Just came out with an invention that will cost the oil industry millions? Gee, looks like your plans and notes were all destroyed when your house burned down. Too bad about your fiance, though. I’m impressed she made it out that window but she really needs to learn to bend her knees when she lands. To bad about your plans for the new hybrid engine though. The money you could have made would pay for the prosthetics she’s gonna need for the rest of her life.
Yeah, I’ve bought, stole, borrowed, cajoled, threatened, and committed outright murder to get what was asked of me. I’m the guy you come to when you have a problem that need’s solvin. Hrm, what was that quote from George Clooney. Oh, that’s right. “I’m not the guy you kill, I’m the guy you buy.” Not really the kind of job you can put on a resume. More of a learn-as-you-go business, and reputation for getting shit done matters a hell of a lot more than what your former boss thinks of you. Of course, if you’ve done your job right, your former boss is feeding the maggots beneath the city docks and your sitting on a beach, earning 20 percent from the sale of his estate.
So, yeah, a big ol bottle of 18-year-old scotch, neat, just rolling down my throat like amber smoke, that’s how I wanted to spend my last day. Of course, it’s not all bad. When the bus hit me it snapped my neck, pretty much killing me instantly. We won’t talk about what it did to my body before the driver managed to stop. No, I didn’t do something stupid like cross against the light or step of the curb lost in a daydream. But I did make a rookie mistake.
I took on an apprentice.
What did I just tell you about former bosses?
You can probably figure out where I went. Yeah, no pearly gates for me. Saint Peter actually threw me the bird as he kicked my ass straight downstairs. Of course, a man with my talents could probably go far here, with the right motivation. I may owe the Devil his due currently, and I’ll play his little games for now.
But there is always a way to the top.
And if nothing else, I’m good at getting what I want.
The Pack Rat's Nest 