Our Father

Our father who art in heaven…

It’s very chilly outside, the 3am air isn’t making things any better.  It’s January for Christ’s sake! Shouldn’t be this cold. Damn global warming!

 The metal of the pistol feels like an ice block  in my hands. I pull out some woolen mittens from my jacket put them on. Aah, much better.   I slide deeper into the bougainvillea hedge.

Should be any minute now. I couldn’t afford to blunder.


Hallowed be thy name…

The trail of head lights floods the drive way. A man pulls up in a Porsche Cayenne. KAX 769 B. Should be my target.  He comes to a stop at the gate, right near where I am hidden.  He hoots once; twice. No one opens. He goes into a series of annoying hoots, hitting frantically at the horn, obviously agitated.  No one opens. Angrily, he swings the car door open and heads to the  gate.

It’s all going according to plan. This is my signal.

Thy Kingdom come…

He is a stout middle aged man, about 55, with an overbearing kitambi. This shouldn’t be hard at all. But I had learnt not to underestimate anyone; my last project had almost flopped because of such careless prejudice. My guards were all up, no room for mistakes;  slight err could land you in big problems; top on that list being made a permanent  guest of the state.  I didn’t want that.

The man is now bent, trying to unlock the heavy padlock on the gate from inside.  His entire focus is on the lock so hardly notices as I creep up slowly behind him.  The whole ordeal takes place in less than 10 minutes.

Neck-choke. Muffle his mouth.  Squeeze harder as he struggles. Finally feel as he weakens from the lack of oxygen. Point muzzle to head. Shoot. Wait for the life to flow out of him. Make the charade seem like an ordinary robbery scene by ransacking the man and his car. Take off. The deal is done.

Now all I have to do is head home and burn all the paraphernalia from the crime scene.

You must always get rid of the evidence.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven…

It’s 7am.  I am all showered and feeling fresh. There’s nothing much on local TV, CNN is depressing so I switch to Nickelodeon. SpongeBob is showing. Perfect! One needs to unwind after a long day of work. I pour a generous amount of cornflakes and milk and cosily place myself on the couch.  Bliss.


Give us this day our daily bread…

Perhaps you are wondering what kind of a sadist goes home to watch cartoons after killing a man.

Well, I am not a sadist really. I consider myself a hardworking man, earning an honest living.  I help people get rid of other people and they in turn pay me. Nothing much. Business.

 In fact, I consider myself a hero of some sort. See, some people are bastards and the only way to save humanity from them is by uprooting from the face of the earth.  I do that dirty job. I have no motive whatsoever for killing anyone. All I do is work on instructions from above; my clients.  Same way we have doctors, lawyers, accountants’ et al, the world also needs people like myself.

And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…

The other day when a lady commissioned me to take up the project of eliminating her husband. I jubilantly took up the  the offer. The money was good and I have bills to pay.

As a rule of thumb, I never want to know much about the client and the subject.  I learnt that way early as I was starting in this profession. The less you know about your target, the easier it is to eliminate them. There is no emotional relation; much like the way misfortunes hurt more when they are happening to persons closest to you.  I do not ask my clients the “why” questions; whether there’s an ulterior motive or not is totally up to them. They themselves know why they want to do it.

The burden of guilt rests entirely on their shoulders. I am just a mere tool; an individual playing my role.

Lead us not into temptations but deliver us from all evil….

I prefer learning about the fatality of my victims from the news just like everyone else. They mystery is intriguing. Trying to guess why I had been hired to eliminate a victim is fun.

Revenge; a woman after her husband’s wealth; greedy kids thirsting after an inheritance; political rivals; work place politics; business deals gone sour.  It’s a jungle out there.

Forced natural selection; some must die so that others can thrive and prosper.

For thy is the kingdom, the power and the glory…

“Senior government official found murdered at his home in Runda. The deceased, who was the director of the sugar board, was a key witness in the 22Billion Imported Sugar Scandal.”  The 1pm news reported.

The camera then switches to the Wife of the deceased. She looked devastated, swollen teary eyes and all.

“I came to open the gate this  morning, and there we found him lying dead, blood splattered all over…” she breaks down. A relative, possibly her sister, holds her as the camera switches to the crowd.

Damn, that woman can act. I couldn’t even believe she’d been the one who’d given me my cash in full in a brown envelope and given crisp “I want him dead” instructions.


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