Will It Be Painless?

Is it any good pleading? Thompson says.

For your life? Not really.

But you can’t just toss me aside like a dog carcass, not after all I’ve done for you.

You were more than serviceable, Hunter admits. But you’ve served your purpose. You can’t argue with me.

Will it be painless?

Yes.

Well, get it over with then.

One minute, Hunter says.

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out his laptop.

Finish your drink, Hunter says. Out with the old and in with the new, he smiles, keyboarding fiercely.

He taps the delete button.

And with that, Thompson is gone.

Gas Chamber

Back and forth the fly darts across the windscreen like black thoughts inside my head, floaters before my eyes, distracting my driving. It won’t get out. I’ll fix you, I say as I pull in the driveway, wind the windows up and pump in the fly spray, the little Nazi inside me quite pleased with itself.