MicroHorror

Rex Miles lay stretched out on a beige couch with his hands behind his head. A therapy session will do me some good, he thought lazily.

“Mr. Miles,” Dr. Irene Paddy said, uncrossing her legs, “we’ve talked about your parents. Your childhood. Your hopes and your so-called dreams.” She paused, tapping an ink pen against her notebook. “Um… tell me, Mr. Miles, about your job. What do you do for a living?”

Rex smiled like a shark. “I’m an assassin.”

Irene Paddy adjusted herself in her seat. “An assassin?” she asked, taking her horn-rimmed glasses off. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Rex answered. “I get paid a lot of money to kill people.”

Irene took a moment to think. Her voice was flat and flustered when she asked, “And you enjoy that?”

“Hell, yeah!” Rex exclaimed. “I enjoy the hell out of it!” He sat up quickly, and his look of cheerfulness turned into a portrait of despair. “But here lately my business has slowed down.” He shook his head somberly. “Must be the economy.”

“Uh, Mr. Miles,” Irene said nervously, “are you joking? Did my husband put you up to this?”

“Sort of,” Rex answered, looking her dead in the eyes. “Your husband was going to pay me to kill you. Then frame one of your patients for the murder. It was a good plan. A great plan.” Rex paused, and let out a deep sigh. “But then I asked him why he wanted you killed–”

“And his answer?” Irene broke in.

Rex huffed, “Because you’re pregnant by your lover.”

“He knows about that?” Irene asked, covering her mouth with a thin, bony hand.

“Yes,” Rex answered. “And he’s pretty pissed about it, too. But I told him I wouldn’t do it.” He shrugged and added, “I’ve got a no-killing-a-pregnant-woman rule. Not many assassins care, but I do.” Rex hesitated and watched Irene Paddy’s look of surprised shock change into bitter hatefulness. That’s when he made his move. “Mrs. Paddy,” he started, “I am here today to help you out.”

Irene leered at him like he was a crazy man, and thought to herself that he was. “Help me out?” she asked sarcastically. “How’s that?”

Rex smiled a cunning smile. “Your husband will find another assassin to kill you. I have no doubts about that. And as you can imagine most assassins are heartless bastards. But I’m here today to make you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes, Mrs. Paddy, you pay me ten thousand dollars and I’ll kill your husband and–” Rex looked at the huge metal file cabinet– “let me go through some of your files and pick three or four people to kill.”

The look of surprise-shock returned to Irene’s face. She opened her mouth to say something…

But Rex threw her a stern, cold glance. “I told you, Mrs. Paddy, business has been slow.”

Irene shook her head and managed to say, “Okay. Deal.”

An hour later Rex Miles knocked on the front door of Mr. and Mrs. Paddy’s big, expensive home.

“Rex Miles,” Mr. Paddy said with a thick New Orleans accent, “did you change your mind about my offer?”

“No,” Rex replied. “I told you, sir, I don’t kill pregnant women.” He pulled a large chrome .357 Magnum from his shoulder holster. “I’m here to kill you, sir.” And Rex pulled the trigger. He glared down at the body of Mr. Paddy and added, “I don’t know about you, Mr. Paddy, but I believe I need to go to more therapy sessions. Because if a man enjoys my line of work something must be wrong with him.” Rex paused to think. “But what the hell.” He raised a shoulder. “It pays good!”