Running With Scissors

Cheerful Pessimism

"Fat man," said a distinct Russian/Italian voice. "Am Massimo!"

"Can it wait?" said James Truman-Conelly, covering the auricular of his phone to muffle the sound. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"No can," said Massimo. "Need give words to fat man."

James Truman-Conelly scooted towards the window, dragging the curtains down as slowly as he could. "Okay, make it fast."

"Does fat man hired other assassins for giving Peter the death?" asked Massimo. "For because it is rude."

"What? That's crazy!" said James Truman-Conelly. "You're speaking crazy!"

"See, do not have Massimo as fool," said Massimo. "Massimo does not dance and have happy fool song."

When the curtains were lowered to their maximum capacity, James Truman-Conelly felt confident that he could stand up without being seen. "Look, what makes you say that? And is Peter dead?"

"Yes," said Massimo. "Or no. Depends in path. Massimo got Radical ending. Made sick kickflip."

"Stick to the cannon," said James Truman-Conelly. He could hear Massimo take a deep breath, saying everything in a single breath.

"Massimo watch bullet hit tank with fish man on stage, and found vegan killer had try killed Peter. Massimo punch vegan on throat, but lose Peter. Then Massimo run a lot, found Peter making human bonfire with wine. Everything is fire! But Massimo are hound chasing prey, and run through fire and flames, like metal song. Fire burns costume and Peter saw Massimo and throw the danger noodle at Massimo. At first very fierce, but now is friend! Massimo names it Severus Snake in honor of favorite Harry Potter character. Peter got away, though."

"Peter escaped?" asked James Truman-Conelly. "How hard is it to kill a suicidal douchebag?"

"Very much!" said Massimo. "Lawyer man are slippery, like frozen lake, if lake have cancer and full of booze. But still, fat man no answer Massimo question."

It was bad. It was all so very bad. Even Pascal would've seen James Truman-Conelly's situation and given him a reassuring pat on the back, but only if that pat on the back would've helped him jump of a sharp ledge.

"Look," said James Truman-Conelly as he grabbed the crocodile head symbolizing his religious fidelity from the sea of rubbish in his office, "I hired you to kill him as soon as possible, and that was two weeks ago. I need him dead, and I need it now! If you can't to it, don't blame me if I hire someone who can."

There was a brief moment of silence from the other side of the phone, followed by a big "Ooof" from Massimo.

"What?" asked James Truman-Conelly, stuffing a bunch of stuff from his desk into the crocodile's mouth. He had to get away from there, and fast.

"Fat man speaks meanness," said Massimo. "Thought fat man trust Massimo. Now heart is broken."

"Look, I just need him dead so I can cash in his money," said James Truman-Conelly.

"Why fat man in rush? Hears panic in fat voice," said Massimo.

Slowly and steady, James Truman-Conelly approached the window, opening the curtains a smidge to look outside.

Down in the courtyard, right where the beheaded statue of Hephaestus was, a veritable army of fast food workers was preparing to invade the building at any moment. They were wielding whisks, spatulas, and frying baskets. In the middle of it all, sitting on a folding chair and wielding a spiked baseball bat, was a red-haired girl with braids, freckles, and a striped blue-and-white dress. She looked particularly pissed, with a seething aura of violent calm to her.