"But what do you actually do for a living?" the unwary people ask before I decide whether to roofie them or kill them.
Lately, after realizing I'll have no friends left I've started telling them
"I tail people to make sure they're okay."
My friend Jon looked puzzled,
"Like a private investigator?"
"Er no, I tail them for their parents. You know those overanxious parents whose kids are coming to the city for the first time."
"That is niche. How do you get clients?"
If Jon and I hadn't been married to my sister, I would have nicked his carotid. Instead, I sighed patiently,
"Digital marketing."
He sat back on his chair as if satisfied with the answer. I've learnt that anyone born in the early '80s would rather die (I mean that literally) than admit they are technologically challenged.
My sister walked in with her spawn in tow. The child has round blue eyes which look at me suspiciously as if it knows that I kill people for a living. The disturbing thing is that his expression is thoughtful rather than disapproving. He is about one-year-old or as my sister says 13 months.
"Jamie gets so excited when he knows we are coming to meet you." she said. I made a mental note not to gift any sort of fake firearms to Jamie.
I could see his eyes moving to the leg of my pants. He stared intently as if his eyes can see my spare gun hidden prudently in my sock. He put his fingers inside his mouth and squealed.
"Oh look how happy he is."
I have no idea how she got that from that terrifying squeal but I replace the pained expression on my face with something resembling a smile.
The smiling seemed to encourage the little brat and he leaned away fom his mother, closed and opened his fists. My sister made that mom face,
"Jamie wants to go to Auntie." Jamie wants to check Auntie for more guns I said to myself as the little pink one made his way to me. His hands made deft checks to see if I have any more weapons hidden.
We sat down on the table, as I tried not to look the little parasite in the eye. I needed some sustenance so like always I ordered dessert with my coffee, my sister laughed
"Deedee, you haven't changed a bit, always with the sweets, you're worse than Jamie." I let that insult pass and concentrated on my brownie.
I made a perfect mouthful containing the edge of the brownie and some chocolate syrup, just as I was about to meet the heavenly embrace, Jamie swooped in with the dexterity of an acrobat. He not only had the mouthful but dribbled some saliva over the rest of my brownie.
"Jamie, you naughty boy, look you made Auntie mad." Jamie had no idea how mad his auntie was. I'm going to wait eighteen years till the little pink lump becomes human and get my revenge. Since he had slobbered all over it I let him have the brownie.
As I walked away from a horrible afternoon spent with my family and Jamie, I checked to see if my guns were intact. I got my Steyre 68 out of the boot of my car and set up shop in a tower opposite the building where my target was.
As a sat in the room for a long time, waiting to get a good shot, I got hungry. The missed brownie really irked me. Having a psychopath for a nephew even more so. I reach out for the chocolate I keep in the inside pocket of my blazer. It was gone. I scream in to the empty room "JAMIE"