Yo
It's been a while.
What have I been always doing sometimes?
Summarized list:
- Working
- Logan
- Warming weather
- Killing
When I get home from working, I just haven't felt like sitting in front of a computer screen after doing so all day long. Especially now that Logan is a little older and running around; it's a lot of fun to play with him. And once he's in bed, my second job as a hitman takes up my whole night.
One job got me thinking. It really wasn't much of a job at first, it got interesting, but in the end, wasn't much of a job either.
Getting in to his place was easy. Since it was late at night, the ride to White Plains barely took an hour. His house was on a cul de sac not far from the Cross Westchester expressway. His place was right at the end and his backyard ran up against some woods and a baseball field.
He was home, which I knew before I left, and alone. He was Indian, I think, and judging by the decor in his place, Buddhist. His place was immaculate; clean, straight lines, fancy art on the walls, leather couches, mahogany hardwood floors, posh Oriental rugs throughout, a dark wooden bookcase full of hardcover books. This had some money, and for a minute I almost let myself wonder why he had a contract. I brushed it aside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. I thought about climbing up the railings, since his stairs were finished hardwood with no runner, but decided it would be better to save my energy and besides, nobody's stairs squeaked as much as mine. The master bedroom had more Buddhist relics in it. As I moved through the open doorway, I noticed a fat, bald dude looking at me from the corner of the room. What the f... it was just a Buddha statue. I realized I was being lazy, but had nothing to worry about, this guy was out cold. But Buddha kept looking at me. Kept staring at me.
I couldn't shake the "karma, noble truths, etc." junk I had learned about Buddhism back when I was confirmed at my church. Instead of worrying about my actions though, I thought, "I guess this guy just had it coming."
I looked around for any weapons he might keep in his bedroom, and after finding nothing, decided it'd be best to finish the job in the hall, on the wooden floor. It might be easier to clean up then.
I walked out into the hallway to look around when I heard him moving. I turned around slowly, quietly, to face his doorway, and slowly began walking backwards, periodically glancing over my shoulder for a place to hide. Then the karma thing bit me in the ass. Literally, and it stung. I had backed into the corner of a side table he had in his hall. It was barely a bump, but enough to not only hurt my ass, but also send a large vase, and some ugly fake flowers, over onto the hardwood floors. Shit! I thought, but the vase hit with a soft thud, unbroken. Karma.
Nonetheless, he stumbled out of this bedroom and towards me, seemingly unaware I was just inside the shadows at the end of the hall. He looked half asleep still, and I figured he was heading into the bathroom or something.
He was wearing long, baggy pajama pants and no shirt. Once his gait revealed he had light colored socks on. He held an empty glass in one hand. He rubbed his face with the open palm of the other hand and picked his head up after he finished. Then he noticed my silhouette in the shadows.
I was just readying myself to move towards him when he startled and stepped back. His left foot hit the edge of the top stair awkwardly and he tumbled down violently. I quickly followed him down, using the railings to hurdle the broken glass that was strewn across the top few treads.
I got down to the bottom with my rope in hand when I noticed how still he was. His head was facing toward the wall but his torso was bent back, unnaturally and probably uncomfortably towards the middle of the room. I checked his pulse. He was dead. Karma.
I didn't even have to clean up. I was going to get paid because this dude was a klutz.
I put my rope back in my coat pocket and headed toward the window I climbed in. I noticed a framed picture on the wall that I didn't see when I came in. It was of Buddha with a saying superimposed over the picture. It read:
"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your common sense."
Literally that means, "only listen to what you want to hear."
I realize that's the mantra of a great number of people. People I know, people you know. It's a nice way to live.
I climbed out the window, pulled it shut and walked through the backyard, through the woods and to my car. I rubbed my ass where it still stung a little and got in. I drove home a little slower this time; I didn't want to get a speeding ticket. Speeding is dangerous and illegal.
Buddha was a genius. I never knew it was that easy to achieve nirvana.
Only listen to what you want to hear.
What have I been always doing sometimes?
Summarized list:
- Working
- Logan
- Warming weather
- Killing
When I get home from working, I just haven't felt like sitting in front of a computer screen after doing so all day long. Especially now that Logan is a little older and running around; it's a lot of fun to play with him. And once he's in bed, my second job as a hitman takes up my whole night.
One job got me thinking. It really wasn't much of a job at first, it got interesting, but in the end, wasn't much of a job either.
Getting in to his place was easy. Since it was late at night, the ride to White Plains barely took an hour. His house was on a cul de sac not far from the Cross Westchester expressway. His place was right at the end and his backyard ran up against some woods and a baseball field.
He was home, which I knew before I left, and alone. He was Indian, I think, and judging by the decor in his place, Buddhist. His place was immaculate; clean, straight lines, fancy art on the walls, leather couches, mahogany hardwood floors, posh Oriental rugs throughout, a dark wooden bookcase full of hardcover books. This had some money, and for a minute I almost let myself wonder why he had a contract. I brushed it aside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. I thought about climbing up the railings, since his stairs were finished hardwood with no runner, but decided it would be better to save my energy and besides, nobody's stairs squeaked as much as mine. The master bedroom had more Buddhist relics in it. As I moved through the open doorway, I noticed a fat, bald dude looking at me from the corner of the room. What the f... it was just a Buddha statue. I realized I was being lazy, but had nothing to worry about, this guy was out cold. But Buddha kept looking at me. Kept staring at me.
I couldn't shake the "karma, noble truths, etc." junk I had learned about Buddhism back when I was confirmed at my church. Instead of worrying about my actions though, I thought, "I guess this guy just had it coming."
I looked around for any weapons he might keep in his bedroom, and after finding nothing, decided it'd be best to finish the job in the hall, on the wooden floor. It might be easier to clean up then.
I walked out into the hallway to look around when I heard him moving. I turned around slowly, quietly, to face his doorway, and slowly began walking backwards, periodically glancing over my shoulder for a place to hide. Then the karma thing bit me in the ass. Literally, and it stung. I had backed into the corner of a side table he had in his hall. It was barely a bump, but enough to not only hurt my ass, but also send a large vase, and some ugly fake flowers, over onto the hardwood floors. Shit! I thought, but the vase hit with a soft thud, unbroken. Karma.
Nonetheless, he stumbled out of this bedroom and towards me, seemingly unaware I was just inside the shadows at the end of the hall. He looked half asleep still, and I figured he was heading into the bathroom or something.
He was wearing long, baggy pajama pants and no shirt. Once his gait revealed he had light colored socks on. He held an empty glass in one hand. He rubbed his face with the open palm of the other hand and picked his head up after he finished. Then he noticed my silhouette in the shadows.
I was just readying myself to move towards him when he startled and stepped back. His left foot hit the edge of the top stair awkwardly and he tumbled down violently. I quickly followed him down, using the railings to hurdle the broken glass that was strewn across the top few treads.
I got down to the bottom with my rope in hand when I noticed how still he was. His head was facing toward the wall but his torso was bent back, unnaturally and probably uncomfortably towards the middle of the room. I checked his pulse. He was dead. Karma.
I didn't even have to clean up. I was going to get paid because this dude was a klutz.
I put my rope back in my coat pocket and headed toward the window I climbed in. I noticed a framed picture on the wall that I didn't see when I came in. It was of Buddha with a saying superimposed over the picture. It read:
"Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your common sense."
Literally that means, "only listen to what you want to hear."
I realize that's the mantra of a great number of people. People I know, people you know. It's a nice way to live.
I climbed out the window, pulled it shut and walked through the backyard, through the woods and to my car. I rubbed my ass where it still stung a little and got in. I drove home a little slower this time; I didn't want to get a speeding ticket. Speeding is dangerous and illegal.
Buddha was a genius. I never knew it was that easy to achieve nirvana.
Only listen to what you want to hear.
Labels: awesomeness, random, useless self promoting info, what i'm always doing sometimes, what's new?
