Name: Don’t Ask – Just call me “J"

Telephone: I’ll contact you (place an ad saying, “searching for nirvana” and I’ll be in                         touch.)

Specialty: wet work

                “accidents”

                body disposal

                wives, husbands, employers, disgruntled employees

                sniper, knives, ropes, swords, poison, you name it

                can pin it on someone else of your choosing

                guilt free for you and for me (I’m a psychopath)

                can’t be traced, no fingerprints on file

                kidnapping, holding for ransom

                mother-in-law’s, boyfriends, girlfriends, ex-friends, your choice

                sabotage resulting in death

                fake insurance claims

Payment: Drop box, 100% in advance. Since you have contacted me and made me aware                 of your need, you already have received my sterling recommendations and                         know I will fulfill your assignment.

                I charge according to what you need done but I am not cheap!

Advantage: I can blend in with a crowd, very experienced; will send photos as proof, no

                 evidence left at scene. 

Special:    *Second murder 25% off!

When I was 11, my dad ran over four turkeys. One died. Two were maimed. One clucked off, unscathed.

Dad didn't look back. He just shrugged and smirked. There's never any traffic there. 

I saw the one, clucking down the shoulder. Later on I asked Dad what he thought of the one that didn't get hurt. 

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," he spit with a huckered unfurling of his mucus cavity. 

The next morning, really early because I couldn't sleep, I went out. 

Dad was gone. Working, I imagine.

Mama was sleeping. She stayed up late, I'm sure.

I kissed Amber on the forehead. She gets warm when she sleeps.  Been like that since we were little. 

Felt like I'd just kissed her when I was halfway through the woods. It's a good quarter-mile jog to the other end of 'em. But I move fast.

Specially when I got purpose. 

It opens up, like it do, and I looked out. You can see everything out there on mornings when the season is changing. Poop from chocolate milkshakes to tar icicles. 

And at this time of year, birds. Every kind of bird, we got them all. 

This is commuter season for nature's airplanes. 

I walk right up on 'em. It's gotta be the biggest swarm of turkeys between me and Canada. They hardly move. Shit-for-brains just sit there. 

So I move through 'em. Easily. Cause I got purpose.

I look for the one. May find him. I may not. 

I'll know those spots, though. In 7th grade I did a book report on turkeys. Different kinds. What that means in the way they live, where they like to stay, and so on. 

I prolly had a close eye on turkeys since I was 4. I 'member the first time I saw one slaughtered. For BLTs with white cheese. I can still hear that stupid son of a bitch popping in the Lodge cast-iron skillet my granddaddy flipped up  right away when he took it out his truck, and slapped it down on those metal grates.

I know turkeys. And I know how to watch for the one I want. 

He ain't here. Not today. 

I'll wait. It's what I do. 

This isn't passion. It's not excess.

They aren't victims. They aren't deserving. 

They're just the backup singers in my orchestra. I don't like acoustic guitars or MTV Unplugged. 

I like plump cheeks that explode like pierogies microwaved 30 seconds past their due. 

I sit and wait. Sometimes I do this because I'm asked to. Other times it's other reasons. 

Don't ask no questions. Nothing to see here. 

Yesterday I was witness to a circumstance which made me feel needed. I so rarely feel that way. 

It's lonely out here. But it's clean. And there's a hierarchy. It must be respected.

If things are allowed to get out of order, then we must restore it. 

Otherwise things forget to work. This was supposed to happen yesterday.  It didn't. It's okay. 

The important thing is to stay calm. 

Otherwise things get messy.

Move calmly and, if you drive to Milwaukee for work, carry a big stick for tinted windows and don't forget your pipe if you happen upon a fireside chat with an old friend. 

I love old friends almost as much as news ones. Of course, the way my job goes, I end up with more news friends than new ones. But that's okay.

Keeps the fire going. 

Friends are eager to swap recipes. Especially when it's something new. And if you cook, friends usually wanna try it. Specially if it's something you caught yourself. 

Like Brunswick stew with turkey that, you should be forward in warning your guests, has an assertive gamey-ness.

Almost medicinal. But organic.

People love organic products. Especially wild-caught and hormone-free. 

"Oh those? Those are meatballs," I tell 'em.

Bon appetite. 

And please: no tips.

Getting all these contract killers to out themselves and flaunt their skills. Evil genius challenge issued by someone with an awesomely villainous nickname. 

Make sure they get their "free big screen tv's" just for showing up to the interview, especially the ones that attempted or threatened to take you out first. St. Valentine's Day Massacre part deux, anyone? 

How to find my resume? Nothing written. Ask around, Irish Section, Chicago, progeny of Bugs Moran. 

Real killers keep it quiet, molls and all.

The job:

Accountant, with a flair for tying up loose ends, required for long term contract. Don't miss out on making a killing with this once-in-a-lifetime chance!

The applicant:

Name: John F. Deer

Experience:

Gardening professional for the last ten years. Government trained. Specialized in neutralizing exotic weeds (extreme weather variants).

Skills: 

Speaks 5 languages, including farsi. 20-20 eyesight. Quiet.

References:

Paul O. T. U. Sinclair, CEO of United Services Inc.

People like you sicken me.

You hide behind your computer screen, living a life of empty words and anonymous fantasies. I can't tell you how many online ads like this I come across.

But today's your lucky day. And I'll tell you why.

Yesterday I was fired. The prick I worked for told me I spend too much time "perusing the web." And I "creep out my co-workers." And I'm "too smart for my own good."

So, you wanna knock off your girlfriend? And you're willing to pay good money? 

Well, great news! I have a lot of free time on my hands, and I could really use the money.

So respond back to this email with all the details I need ASAP. If I don't hear back from you within 24 hours, we will have our first meeting face-to-face. I know your IP address, and trust me, I know even more. 

Have a pleasant evening, Dave.

Included with my resume is a blood stained envelope, filled with the trophies of my endeavours

1 severed finger of an ex-girlfriend

1 maimed brain of a controlling asshole of a boss

And my most prized trophie, your dear secretary Diana's eye, for all the pornographic photos of your sandwich man Jimmy she spends her office hours looking at.

And if your tongue refuses to grant me this job, it may just make itself right at home in here with Diana's eye.

Signed with the blood of my twin brother's dog,

All the best,

Well it would be quite foolish of me to include my name now wouldn't it.

Just call me The Collector.

Ps. The only form of payment I require is one body part of my choosing from the victim.

Did you know blood comes in three colors?

Bright red is oxygen rich blood, fresh from the lungs, pushed onward with the heart. It surges and spurts if you hit the artery straight on, or just leaks fast, like a hole in a jug. A nick to the brachial or femoral artery will kill some in two minutes. They collapse in one minute, heart pumping hard, purging them of life. Then they just die. 

You ever feel someone's heart stop? 

It lumbers and shudders in slowly diminishing gait, then a few sad little last constrictions, like a loser sputtering poorly formed last words in an argument.

I don't like the carotid, you might as well cut a hose under pressure. The blood gets everywhere.

The radial is hard to hit, the bones protect it pretty well. You have to cut hard, but because the artery is smaller it takes too long for them to bleed out.

Now, blood from the veins tends to be purplish, freed of oxygen. The wounds tend to ooze. Slow and steady, hitting one is still good, but they take just a bit longer to die.

Hit both vein and artery, which a good draw cut across brachial can do, pathways of life pulled taunt over bone, blade slicing deep, and you got a dead man leaking a odd mix of purplish bright red. 

For this a knife is best, they are silent and hard to trace. Blood gets everywhere, but I just burn my clothes.

Goodwill is a good place to pick cheap replacements. 

Granted, I could just slam a knife into their heart, lungs, or even their eye, but bones are tough. They are there for a reason, a rib or eye socket can deflect the blade, turn a killing blow into flesh wound. And stabbing them in the stomach just takes too long to end them. Unless you hit the liver, the liver is a good target. Kidneys too. But you need a long knife to get them right. Also wiggling the blade helps. 

I know a solid upward stab from the gut has a chance of striking the heart, but the angle can be hard to get correct, especially if they are fighting you.

I mean at that point you might as well as shoot them or run over them with a car.

Where is the fun in that?

I cut deep and true. They die seeing my face. 

And you pay me on time, you will never see mine.

I am interested in your hired killer opportunity.  I have attached my resume as a Word.doc file.

I have had twenty years experience with increasing responsibility as a manager in retail.  I believe I have given satisfaction to all my previous employers and can provide references if you request.

I would like to explore the hired killer opportunity.  I have the qualities of initiative, preparedness, and a callous disregard for the mass of humanity that I think will be of great use as a hired killer.

I understand that I am making a career shift, so I believe my salary should be negotiable.  My last salary as a manager was $45,000.00 per year but perhaps we should consider a piecework approach to compensation.

I am immediately available to start, but I do have a necessary dental surgery scheduled in June, so perhaps July 1 would be a better start date.

I am eager to travel but do not want to relocate from the metro area.  I hope that is satisfactory.  

Thank you again for your consideration,

I. P. Freely

I let out a low gruff as I sat down in the worn, wooden chair set near the window of my cabin. My calloused hand ran over the plain envelope that came this morning, no doubt another reply to my offer. I had over 20 replies already and all have been...underwhelming to say the least.

Expecting no different from this new contender, I proceeded to open the letter with the hunting knife I always kept near my side. Sliding out the rough paper with my forefingers, I proceeded to unfold and read the letter. It began as they all did.

Dear sir,

I am here to reply for your request of, shall we say, a special set of skills.

I rolled my eyes. Why does everyone describe assassination as "a special set of skills." They all act as if this was some game or a James Bond movie. I sighed, rubbing my weary eyes as I turn back to the letter. Good assassins were hard to find these days.

It is my understanding that the target you require to be dealt with is a secluded individual that does not take to public events quite often, making them more difficult to isolate and be disposed of. I assure you that I not only am a skilled assassin, but a skilled tracker as well, so hunting them down should not be a problem. After all, I was able to find you, wasn't I?

My eyes froze on the page as every one of my senses became heightened. I slowed my breath, listening, searching. Slowly, the joints of the chair underneath me groaning, I turned in my seat to look out of my office window. There, in a tree no more than 200 feet away, was a woman pressed against a branch with what appeared to be a .22 Hornet by the looks of elongated barrel. I felt my pulse quicken as she turned on her laser scope and motioned for me to keep reading.

I am approximately 235 feet away from the South East window of your cabin with what I am assuming will be around a 19-24mph breeze outside considering the time of year and your location in the mountains. I can assure you that I have confirmed kills from further distances under harsher circumstances, so this at the moment is simply child's play.

My fingers tensed on the edges of the page as I continued to read. It was one thing to threaten my life, I have had that happen a many of times. It is another, however, to toi with me; to act as if taking my life is as simple as plucking a daisy from the earth.

I feel that this effectively demonstrates that I am up to the task to find your designated target, as you have gone to great lengths to keep yourself tucked away from the world. I must commend you, as you have been one of my harder subjects to find.

A let out a harsh laugh. As if inflating my ego is going to give me any peace with the fact that I may soon be dead.

Considering that you soon will be dead, I am sure you have figured out by now that I will require no payment of any kind. If I do need any materials, I am sure that your soon-to-be vacant cabin will supply me with any thing I may need.

My anger only grew as I continued to read. This was no assassin, no that title was earned. This was a killer. They killed just for the thrill of it all, taking whatever they please from whom ever they wish. A sense of dread and relief filled me as my eyes shifted down and I saw that there was only one more paragraph.

I hope this letter allows you to rest comfortably in, well, whatever comes next for you. I can assure you that your wishes will be carried out and that they will be my next objective. Thank you for this opportunity of work.

Rest In Peace,

Mara King

I kept my gaze forward as I slowly lowered the paper to the table that I have had breakfast, lunch, and dinner at for so many years. I didn't doubt that this Mara King would keep her word and go after my enemy next. I didn't doubt that they would be dead by tomorrow night. And I didn't doubt that that was her safety clicking off as I closed my eyes waiting for the inevitable to happen.

NG Jackson

069 Charlottesville Lane, Apt 287, Chicago, Illinois, USA | 641-991-4679 | HadesLadyPimp95@mymail.com

Career Summary:

NG Jackson is a sniper for higher internationally. She is ranked third-string on the Black Market and has completed several jobs for Jester, placing her at the top of her class. She has a kill streak of 645 targets, including casualties (which is an option depending on the client.)

-Outstanding multi-tasking skills

-Works well with others

-Well under pressure or when high

-Will take low pay or drugs

-Badass sniper

-Will only kill the client(s) if there is a shortage of pay

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