One of the fallouts from the recurrence and subsequent demolition job on my marriage is insomnia. When counting sheep for the thousandth time doesn’t work I fantasise about taking a contract out on my ex. Take it easy, no need to run for your phone and dial 999. I couldn’t do that to my daughter and he’s hardly worth going to prison for.
But a gal can dream. I have spent many long hours lying in bed not thinking of England but murder. I have contemplated the logistics but fall at the first hurdle. Since I’m a pacifist and in any case he would smell a fish if I suddenly insisted on meeting him after 3 years, an assassin is required. Don’t have the contacts. No assassins on speed dial. I mean how many of you go to dinner parties and discuss murder for hire while sipping champagne and reaching for the plate of canapes.
I imagine as there is a call centre for everything there is one for professional killers under the guise of providing security or trouble shooting. No doubt located in India. I pluck up the courage to dial the number advertised on the net and hear the following recorded message:
If you want him to have a painful and lingering death press 1.
For a quick clean job press 2.
If you already have a murder plan press 3.
If you want to send a message before the deed press 4.
For all other enquiries please hold and someone will answer your call shortly.
Classical music plays.
Sorry caller the lines are all busy right now but we do value your call so please stay on the line. You’re now currently 10th in the queue. We are experiencing a sudden surge in business due to the sharp rise in divorces.
I get fed up of waiting and hang up. One less crime added to the statistics. Before I know it I am snoring away merrily.