The retired Hitman

Phlebutton had just celebrated his 84th birthday. His brain was just as clear as when he had been twenty and one, or so he told himself. They had assigned him all of the juiciest targets when he was the Hitman, mostly politicians who were either crooked, or wanted to do the right thing.

Phlebutton never really cared, especially when the Army retired him and he went private. The pay had been great, he now lived a life of luxury, dressed in the best suits and was just enjoying a rich lifestyle. He vividly remembered all of his victims. Heck, they all had been such cry babies, begging for their lives, at least the ones who saw him coming. The ones who he shot from his sniper positions never knew what hit them. The Army had trained him well. He had been the best shot in his entire regiment, everyone told him so.

"Hey, old man, what you dreaming about now, hurry up and mop the floor, the kids will be here shortly when school starts".

Phlebutton shook his head, looked down the long corridor of the middle school passageway. How the heck did he get here anyway. Wasn't he not just walking down the street dressed in his nice suit. Why was he wearing old worn out clothes with a ragged apron tied around his neck, why did he have a mop and push bucket. Was he dreaming again. Oh yes, he needed to hurry up and mop the floor, the children, oh yes. He resumed his mopping.

"Mr. Phlebutton sir, can you sign these documents please, they need to start the building of the new condos and shopping center, your consent is needed to release the funds". Ah yes, he was the CEO of the very large, very successful banking organization. Nothing got done without his say-so. I sure have come a long way since the projects he mused, smiling proudly at his success.

"Watch out Phleeby", the kids yelled as they poured into the corridor like busy rats running to get some cheese.

He had finished the mopping and hurried to get out of the way of the kids, he loved to watch them happily playing and they had a kind of respect for him, they got along well, they always brought him little gifts from their parents.

"Phlebutton, wake up, pay attention". He felt the splash of water on his face as the interrogator doused him with yet another pail of water.

"Tell us where you buried the two bodies, they may still be alive since you say you buried them alive, we may still be able to save them".

Phlebutton glanced into the two may mirror separating the room, knew that they watched him from beyond where he could not see. He saw his young fortyish year old face staring back at him.

That was over forty years ago. He never told them, Miriam, her beau and her traitorous soul were under concrete in the basement, an old faded rug covered her sins.

Yes, his mind still worked just fine, he had killed a lot of people, for the army, as well as when a gun for hire. He just wished that it was not so god-damned clear, that he could forget the jail cell and the ghosts which slept there and haunted his every sleeping and waking moments.

Phlebutton's eyes flew open, he'd been dreaming. He blinked, looked around the cell, it was dark, someone or something was standing over him.

Finally, his nightmare was over. For better or worse, death had finally arrived.

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