The Life of a Shadows Lurker is Not Easy, Babe
Man oh man, why is it that virtually everyone I rob, beat, and leave for dead has such a great run of success and fortune right afterwards? This is really beginning to bother me. I mean literally, it's like if I rob, beat, and leave someone for dead, it's a guaranteed magic wand that launches them to fame and happiness. Take that guy two weeks ago. He was walking through the dark past some pharmacy and I sprang into action. First I robbed him, then I beat him, and then, as is my custom, I left him for dead. I open up today's paper and it turns out that two days after he got out of the hospital, he was named vice president of some major international computer company. Or that actor dude back in March. I was having a slow night, not really knowing what to do to pass the time since there was absolutely zilcho on the tube, so when he came out of the side of some little regional theater I robbed him, beat him, and left him for dead. Not a week went by before he was mentioned in Variety as "the next hot Canadian action hero". He got discovered by a casting agent a measly forty-eight hours after I robbed him, beat him, and left him for dead!
Look, I didn't get into this business to do favors for people. One of the things I like about it is the finality of it. Three simple steps and I never have to hear from the person again, I just make off with their wallet and get away scot free. The last thing I need is to be reminded that all these people are doing better in life than I am. On Wednesday night I thought I really had it made, because I saw Jakey Vernshaw from high school walking his dachsund down the street (the same one he had in high school, for God's sake; how long do dogs live, anyway?), and this guy was one of the biggest losers you'd ever want to meet. Still lives with his grandmother. Well, to make a long story short, I did what I thought I do best: I robbed him, beat him, and left him for dead. Bam---I get a message on my machine this morning that Jakey's leaving town as soon as he can walk with a cane because his Colgate stock just went through the roof after some sudden merger with Aquafresh. So again, I have the Midas touch. It's getting to the point where it would be almost inconsiderate of me not to rob, beat, and leave someone for dead if I see them out alone at an ATM or something. This makes me feel totally inadequate, like I can't even master the one relatively simple chore which I depend on for my livelihood.
Reviewing all the robbings and beatings in my mind, I can't figure out which step I'm screwing up on. I do remember that when I took down that diplomat in the park, I was all over the place with my body blows, really throwing way too many punches, quite taken aback by my own inefficiency, so maybe that had something to do with why the guy was wheeled out of St. Jude's six days later, bandaged up like a mummy and $244 lighter than he was before he met me, only to be soon hailed by the world as a visionary peacemaker for brokering a spontaneous midnight hour treaty between Israel and Palestine. How much cash is that guy going to haul in on the lecture circuit now? Like a gazillion dollars? Meanwhile I'm back to the drawing board to try to figure out where I'm slipping. Not to sound like a defeatist or anything, but if you see me coming after you now, why fight back? Why even shriek in terror to ward off my inevitable assault? What, you don't want a huge promotion at work?
Sorry to sound bitter. It's just....well, I've got some other things going on too. Let's just say that if you're going to bet on a World Cup match, an aggregate score of 19 just isn't gonna happen all that often. I'm an idiot.