I want to write, but if I want to get this right, I think I have to read the writing on the wall.
I think there’s a joke in there somewhere, I just have to interpret it… ;)
In any case, I really have to stop talking about cases. I have enough of them to work on as it is, especially considering all those houses I cased recently.
I mean… nothing?
Moving on. Because seriously, we need to. After all those casings, the police are looking for the owner of the gun.
John? We’ve got another one. Yeah, I know, that’s the third this week. Yeah, of course I’ll pay you double for the body. You know how this works by this point.
Why exactly is my go-to hit man named John? It doesn’t sound very intimidating.
Though perhaps that's the point. Perhaps if they see me contacting John instead of, I don't know, Charlie or something, it won't look so suspicious. Then again, perhaps not. Charlie isn't that intimidating of a name after all.
I just… think that I'm probably going to get an arson charge for doing that whole "writing on the wall" thing.
Oh the irony! And no, I'm not referring to what I did to my wrinkled shirt, I'm referring to the fact that after all those murders and violent crimes, after all those foiled and failed attempts at world domination, I'm going down for a stupid prank like this.
I probably shouldn't be writing this, if I go down now it may end up on my record.
Speaking of which, I haven't heard anything played on a record in a looong time. Seriously, it's been at least a coupla years. Don't you miss that vintage crackling sound, that terrible quality music?
Have you ever wondered why a see-saw is called a see-saw? I happen to have a theory: If you place a baby or small child on it, you see him/her, if you then jump on the other side, you saw him/her.
I should test this out one of these days. After I figure out if onomatopoeia is an onomatopoeia or not. If it is, it is, and if it’s not, it’s not…
That statement was a lot deeper than it sounded. In any case, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome, so
-hyperbole out