Another One Bites the Dust

February 4, 2008
By Jes Hamerle, Raymore, MO

Hawkins filled the beaten copper kettle at his sink, the flow of water from the faucet creating an odd sort of ‘TING’ on its battered and scorched bottom. He whistled tunelessly but with cheer as he set the pot on the stove, a malicious light coming to the beady dark eyes set deep under his thick salt and peppered brow as he deliberated about the events of the day.

‘Oh, they’ll get theirs,’ he thought, a twisted little smile coming to his tiny, thin, white lips. He hitched pants up a little higher on his pudgy waist, staring impatiently at the toaster, as if his bread would toast faster if he concentrated hard enough. Unfortunately, it only resulted in him looking quite cross-eyed. He was about to give the almost decade old appliance a good thumping when the kettle whistled, and he hurried to pour the steaming water over his tea bags and into the chipped old mug he was fond of using.

He let the tea steep as he buttered the close to burnt toast, reviewing the supplies he would need for the day’s activities. ‘Some of those big thick trash bags, some twist ties, some gloves…’the old man wracked his mind in order to be certain he hadn’t forgotten anything, rubbing his bald head and wincing when his callused fingertips met fresh-burnt scalp.

After finishing breakfast, he left the dishes by the sink, pushing his feet into the weather beaten boots left by the front door, pulling on a patched jacket hanging on the solitary hook that hung over them. Hawkins gathered his supplies, and left the small, ranch style house where he lived alone, the venomous light of his eyes gleaming all the more as he sighted his intended prey. From the holster slung low on his wide set hips the bald man pulled out his weapon of choice, pointing it at his quarry and squeezing the trigger.

The dandelion, which had given the gardener so much trouble, was pushed back by the liquid stream of weed killer, almost visibly wilting as the poison began to affect it. The old man capered about the yard, shouting and rejoicing with the agility of a much younger man. He then turned his attention toward the crop of crab grass which had been giving him trouble.

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