Featured Flash Fiction: “The Job”

“The Job”


The sound was no louder than the crack of an egg.

He kept the gun up just in case someone else was in the room. Of course no one was though; he’d been perfecting this for 20 years: wait until they’re alone, kill them, leave. After a couple moments he lowered his gun and walked over to the body. The man had been watching TV and the bullet had penetrated the back of his head. The force of the blow moved his upper body forward so his head leaned over the couch spilling blood onto the ground in front of him.

‘At least they can salvage the couch,’ he thought.

He walked toward the exit knowing he had a very short window in which to get out, but a pair of breasts caught the corner of his eye. He stopped and turned to see what was on the television. He was mesmerized by what was playing in front of him. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen a pornographic film before; it was just that he had been watching this same one all week. This particular film put him in a near trance every time he watched it. Something about these two large-chested women going at it just really stuck with him. Before he even knew what he was doing, he sat next to the man he had just killed, doing the only thing left in his life that gave him pleasure.

He started thinking about the sheer odds of them both watching the same porno in the same week. He tried to calculate it but the two naked women were usurping all his concentration. Was this God’s doing? What purpose could it serve? And just as quickly as they started, the questions were wiped from his mind and he leaned back, looking over at the lifeless body beside him and said, “you’ve got good taste my friend.”

The pounding of the door brought him back to life. He got up, forgetting the puddle of blood that was right at his feet and tried to run away. On his first step he slipped in the pool of blood, fell down, and hit his head on the ground loud enough to hear a crack. When he opened his eyes, he saw the blood; he couldn’t tell if any of it was his or not but either way there was no chance of survival.

The pounding had gotten louder; by now they must have noticed the unconscious guard outside the door. Any minute they would enter the room and see him lying there. He looked up, and saw the face of the man he had just killed; the man was looking down at him smiling, and he smiled back before closing his eyes and saying, maybe to the man or maybe just to himself, “it’s been a pleasure.”