Brian was sitting watching countdown with a can of uncooked beans when the phone began to ring. "Hello?" he said, in his hoarse, cockney accent.
"Brian! I need your help, amigo!" said the voice on the other end.
"Carlos, I wasn't expecting a call from you. What do you need me for?"
"I need you to get rid of that scum bag Mayor of New York".
"I cant, I've told you before, I don't do killing anymore, I haven't for years" replied Brian.
"Please, You've got to, you're the only one I can trust. I wont ask you for anything again"
"O.K, but I need a few days to get prepared."
"Gracias amigo, I wont forget this".
Brian paced back and forth, contemplating; he hadn't done this in 17 years, he didn't know if he was up to it. His mind was racing. It was the day after Carlos had called, and Brian needed some target practise.
The nearest gun range was on the other side of the city. He put on his leather jacket and his Dr. MartinsÃÂ® and walked out of the apartment.
"Can I have a HSS sniper rifle and 50 rounds of ammo please?"
"Certainly sir, here you go".
"Damn, missed that's the third time now".
Brian was thinking he'd lost his skill after all these years. However, he'd told Carlos he would do the deed, and he didn't want to get on the wrong side of him, he was Cuba's biggest drug baron. He spent the rest of the day at the gun range, shooting round after round into the paper person. Finally, he was satisfied that he'd got his aim back. He went home, and enjoyed a can of uncooked spaghetti.
It was the day of the deed, and Brian...