She attached the drill bit and moved towards the man. She lowered the drill towards the man’s ears whilst placing a white stiletto on his neck for stability purposes. It’s wasn’t the usual de rigueur of a tradesman, but then again, it wasn’t an average job. She pinned his ear to the floor with the drill as he whined.

“Please, honey, anything.”

“Oh shut up.”

She drilled the screw through his ear and into the kitchen floor and he screeched in pain.

“Oh, you think that’s bad?”

A rivulet of blood began to meander across the lino. He changed his angle of attack.

“You fucking bitch. So this is your payback huh? What goes around comes around baby. The pendulum has to swing back.”

She went to cupboard, grabbing a whiskey tumbler and promptly to the fridge to fill it with crushed ice from the station at the front. She then strolled over to the table to his bottle of Wild Turkey and free poured herself a generous splash.

The man struggled on the floor, still aware of the Glock in her jeans and the conundrum of his ear being forcibly pinned to the floor.

She sipped the whiskey and, not being a seasoned drinker, felt the burn as it torched her throat on the way down.

“The pendulum can’t swing back if I rip it down and shove it up….”

“Just fucking finish me already. I don’t know what you’re so pissed about but fucking finish me.”

Just as she was taking another drink she sprayed the hazel liquor on the darker brown of the kitchen table in disbelief.

“Don’t know what I’m so pissed about?”

For the first time in this calculated episode, she lost her cool. She was sick of the games and remembered the time frame she had to keep to.

She got up and grabbed the man by his jet black hair and yanked him up violently splitting his ear as his blood cascaded into the red ocean that had slowly been accumulating over the course of the evening.

“Don’t know what I’m so pissed about?”

She took the Glock from her waistband and thrust it in his throat. A feeling she could empathise with.

“You think this about me don’t you?”

The man tried to speak, but the obvious obstacle of a deadly weapon holding down his tongue and threatening to blow his larynx into his stomach prevented any coherent sentences.


“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night honey.”

She took the gun by the barrel and whipped the butt into his two front teeth. She then walked back to her drink, feeling that she had managed to alleviate some of the stress. This was better than any meditation or yoga she thought. Go straight to the source, and wondered what the Dalai Lama would think of her methods.

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