Page 25 of Wandering in Darkness
“What the fuck are you doing here?” the eighty-six-year-old demands when he opens the door.
“Hey, Arthur. I got invited to do something for the military. Sounds like some… special ops thing or something,” I say, wanting to make it sound way more exciting than it probablyis. Although, with Arthur, I could be like, “I’m about to protect the royal family,” and he’d be like, “So what?”
“You want a fucking party or something?” he asks, right on cue.
“I don’t know what to do. I mean, obviously I did shit while I was in the military… I even had to kill three people… and it weighs on you.”
“I’d like to kill at least three people a day. My ex-wife, that fucking mailman, and that stupid bitch who took over hosting my favorite radio station,” he says. “How much do you want to off that nasty woman?”
“Which one?”
“My ex-wife, of course. I should have smothered her in her sleep. My kids are shits, kissing her ass—they’re not going on my will. Bitch cheats on me, makes them think I’m the one who did it, and they side with her even though I had proof!”
And I know if I don’t stop him, he’ll go on a rampage about how awful they all are. Honestly, it sounds like it’s best for them not to be in his life, but being hired to eliminate the ex-wife is definitely not on my list of things to do.
“You can use my gun,” Arthur says as he wanders over to his safe and pulls his rifle out, then stares at the shotgun for a moment before settling on a handgun. “You can pick.”
“What if we go shoot out back instead?” I ask. “But first, can I use your computer?”
“Don’t be looking at none of that gay porn, you hear me? Only titties allowed on that computer. I heard you can put a wallpaper up; I want a wallpaper of some big ones, you hear me?”
“Sadly, I do,” I say as I go back into the room and boot up his computer. He hasn’t updated it since the last time I did, so it’s running slow as hell until I get it back up to speed. And then I go to Google, type in “Hunky hot guy in thong,” and pickmy favorite before making it his wallpaper. Once I’m done with what I needed to do, I head out to where he’s glowering at some children walking by. They are doing absolutely nothing wrong, but their happiness must irritate him.
“You ready?” I ask.
“For you to get a life so you stop irritating me? Sure am.”
That makes me grin. “You are the worst.”
“Yet you’ve been coming over here and harassing me since you were a teenager.”
“You’d miss me if I didn’t,” I say as I grab the guns and head out the back door. He follows me over to the golf cart, moving slower than he did in the past. I told him I got the golf cart because I was tired of walking, and he chastised me for days that I needed to shape up or no man would want my lazy ass. But now he climbs right into it before I drive it out into his field a good mile from the house. Once we arrive, I pull the chair out of the back and set it up.
“I don’t need no chair,” he grumbles.
“It’s for me, not you,” I say.
“Selfish little prick.”
“That’s me,” I agree. “I’m going to walk out there, so don’t shoot me, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try to remember. I’m not promising anything. All my friends can’t remember shit.”
“Well, if I end up bleeding to death out there, I will be well aware that you forgot.”
Arthur just laughs because he’s a sadist and is immensely pleased with himself. I walk out to one of the farthest targets and tape the paper over it before making my long trek back. By the time I return, he’s in the chair that he cursed out, taking a nap.
I set up the rifle before nudging him. “You’re going to sleep your life away at this point.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I was just tired of looking at you. My eyes were aching from seeing your smiling face. Like what do you have to be so happy about?”
“Just seeing your misery makes me happy.”
“Ha. I see.”
I hand him the binoculars.
“Which target do you want me to hit?” I ask.
