Doc

The target gets off the bus. Jerry Spitz. He's a heavyset guy with a toupee and sweat stains on his glasses. He looks like he expects something, which screams that this isn't on the up-and-up, unlike every other **** of a minor public figure I've been involved in. I'll never forget the screaming in the PTA room...

This is it, Wade. No turning back. Remember, he is the bad guy. He is the one who needs to die so the sun can rise again tomorrow. Only his **** will rid the world of the evil of being okay with smut! Remember; he wants to take away your porn stash! The villain will die!

"HEY, SPITZ!!" I YELL. He turns, concerned. "HOPE YOU APPRECIATE THIS!"

I turn back to the doctor, who looks confused. I draw my MP5s, point them at him and, after a brief 'rasslin' match with the brainwashing, I make 'em go boom. Tee-hee, he got all jiggly! I bet my bottom dollar people were screaming, but I didn't hear 'em. All I heard was the sweet sound of justice finally giving ol' Wade a turn.

To his credit and my glee, when the rat-a-tat-tat became click-click, doc-boy was still alive, more or less. He was full of holes but not blood. That had transfered duty to his clothes and the bench. And the ground, and the poodle being walked behind him when I opened fire.

"wil...wilson..."

"EE-yeeeeEEEZZ?"

"traitor..."

"EEHH!! Wrong, muttley! I ain't your lapdog. Never was. When your life is flashing before your eyes and you get to the part where I swore allegiance and stuff, I want you to remember it was a lie. I tricked you just for this moment." I grinned at him, drew one of the swords and swung it at his neck. It didn't even slow down.

"April Fool's, loser."