my dads an assasin, gee, you picked a great job dad!

my dads an assasin, gee, you picked a great job dad! 16

Gentry came back-i didn' even know he'd left- and gave me horrible news. "Please tell me you're not a fan of muffins." he said.

"why?" i demanded.

"they screwed up the order and now we've got a couple milliom cupcakes instead." he told me.

"Whats a muffin?"

"Whats is the cake in a cup that you speak of?"

"Did you seriously just ask me that?" i demanded.

"they've never had cupcakes?" Gentry sounded surprised. "give me a cupcake over caviar any day."

"i second that!" i yelled.

we laughed at ourselves.

"you prefer your peasant food. once a peasant, always a peasant." said the one that hated me.

"i'm sorry, are we disgusting you, Mr. Fussy Briches?" Gentry asked in a mock polite tone. i broke down laughing.

we got a letter from the princess again. she got trapped in a revolving door. i had to laugh at that one.

i went to the balcony. "hey Gentry!" i yelled.

"what?" he yelled back.

"do you think Prince Charming can get up here?"

he went to look down from the balcony. "nope!" he declared. "but i can!"

we laughed.

as if on cue a monkey showed up out of nowhere and smashed a papya on our heads. the guards showed up and oraganized a man-hunt(well, actually it was a monkey-hunt) for the monkey that had harmed me. i feel bad for that monkey.

some maniac tried to kill me three days later during breakfast, but Gentry grabbed a cupcake and shot it into the guys face, and then a monkey showed up out of nowhere and started attacking with cupcakes.  by the end of the fight the assasin was covered in pink, purple, and blue frosting! he was arrested and his excecution was schedueled for the following morning.

the princesses didn't care. they thought he 'deserved it' for trying to kill them. i guess he did, in a way, but i didn't really see it that way. once you were an assasin, you were stuck in that job, and a lot of people were kidnapped by the goverment and turned into assasins by force. i was an assasin because it ran in my family, and frankly-i hated to admit this-i'd gotten used to it. killing people didn't faze me anymore. i was always able to justify who i killed no matter how i killed them. i still remembered my first kill.

that night i had a nightmare. it was the night i'd made my first kill. i swear i hadn't meant to kill the guy, but i had to. he was trying to kill me. it wasn't that i'd killed him, that i could get over, but his last words, those words haunted me. after i'd stabbed him, while his lungs filled with blood, he'd handed me a wad of money, a peice of paper with an adress on it, and said that it had been his paycheck, and begged me to find a way to deliver it to his family. i'd had to go there and deliver it myself. i told the family that he had been killed doing his duty, but what i forgot to mention was that i was the one responsible for his death. he had a boy about my age at the time, and that kid was also starting to learn how to be an assasin. the boy had walked upto me and said that his dad was going to start teaching him interrogation techniques, and then his mother broke the news to him.

i bolted upright.

i'd long since figured out how to get over what i did and justify it, but that had been my first kill. that had been the first time.....the first person who's blood was on my hands. the first time i'd watch the lights fade from someone's eyes.... the first time....my dad said that the first kill was always the one that you had trouble getting over. but after that, you lost track of the kills. you were just doing your job. i won't deny that i'd killed, i'd killed people again and again, for many reasons, but that was the one kill that i would never forget. after a while, you lost track. a few specific kills stood out in your mind, but you forgot a lot of them, they were just one more kill in the list of people that you'd killed. but you never forgot the first kill. every assasin knew that the first kill was the hardest. after that...you started to adapt. my dad had been thinking, before we moved, he'd been thinking about teaching me interrogation techniques.