- Paul Davidson
I Could Be Your Assassin
I could so be your assassin.
Now, let’s just clarify things for a moment here. When I say “I could so be your assassin” I do not mean that I am going to follow you around in the darkness until I see my shot and then kill you dead right there on the spot? I am not coming after YOU, but I am being hired BY you to kill someone that you don’t particularly like.
Now that we’ve got that covered, let’s move on.
Unlike most assassins, you cannot find my contact information in the back of some magazine like Soldier of Fortune or a magazine that highlights the latest in automatic firearms. Nor can you find me in weekly meetings as presided over by crazed political lunatics who just want to bring down any form of democracy that is against living a life even if you are hated by many.
If you want to find me, you will have to go through a variety of steps in which to contact me. Steps that seem, at first glance, to be random and ridiculous. But this is the point! If you are willing to go through all these crazy steps just to track me down in an attempt to hire me to go out and kill someone you can’t stand — well, then I will take the gig. But if, along the way, through my list of pre-requisite contact steps, you get lazy or sick of the process — you will never find me and alas, your so-called friend will end up annoying you even longer.
So, yes — following the steps are key. They include buying a huge banana suit (the kind you’d see someone wearing at an amusement park) and painting the outer edges of your mouth, nose and mouth in a bright-yellow paint so when people look to see the eyes or nose or mouth through the holes of the banana suit’s face — they will say to themselves, “Man, that’s one really professional looking guy in a banana suit who takes his job very seriously.” And that’s just the point — you’ve got to take this all very seriously.
Once you’ve dressed up in the banana suit and painted your face accordingly, you will proceed to your local airport (wherever that may be) and book a one-way ticket to the Burbank airport in California. You must travel on a plane that will allow you to wear the banana suit. This is all about dedication and persistence. If you were to give up the first time someone tells you no, well, I don’t want to have anything to do with you.
So, eventually you’ll be on a plane, in your banana suit with your face painted in bright yellow and winging your way to Burbank, California. When you’ve arrived, go straight to the baggage claim and look for a similarly-colored yellow suitcase with the word “YOU” stenciled in black on it. Thus the word on the suitcase, this suitcase is FOR YOU!
Take the suitcase and open it up right there. Inside you’ll find a thousand chewy caramels wrapped in plastic. You must eat all thousand of the chewy caramels in fifteen minutes flat. Somewhere near you there will be someone tallying the time it takes you to eat a thousand caramels with a very advanced stopwatch. If you have completed the chore in 15 minutes or less, this person will approach you with an envelope. Inside that envelope will be a key. That key will be to a car somewhere in the parking lot. You must find that car, get in that car (without taking off the banana suit) and drive to a location previously entered into the car’s GPS navigation system.
When you have gotten there, you will find a cafe. At that cafe, I will be sitting with my legs crossed (the right leg over the left leg) and wearing a t-shirt that has an illustration on it of someone’s hands in a trio of diagrams, outlining how to shoot a rubberband from ones’ thumb.
Come up to me and say, “I’m a bananas for you!”
If you’re able to get to that point, you will notice me smiling a wide smile because it means you have passed the test that I have required, and yes, NOW I would be more than happy to go out and assassinate your target. (Note: You may not take off the banana suit until you get home.)
As you assassin, of course, I will be professional, thorough, and unemotional. Unless the person you want me to kill is someone I know, someone who I’ve seen on TV and enjoyed their performances, or someone who seems awfully nice. In those situations, I will refund a third of your money, and we will part ways.
I could totally be your assassin. It just takes a little effort on your part.