Black glove clad fingers grasped the silent phone. Brrrrrring brrrrring! Brrrrrring brrrrring! They brought it to his ear.
“Yes? This is….” He pressed the sound effect music button next to him, “BLACK LICORICE the assassin!” He paused the music to await a response.
On the other line, he was met with a pause. “Oh. I-uh. I heard you guys were pretty….eclectic. Anyway, I’d like a medium, thick crust, with black olives and-”
“Say no more, sir. I know exactly who you want ‘taken care of.’” He winked, then reconsidered the action, “You couldn’t see it, but I just winked.”
Another pause. “Is this Mario’s Pizzeria?”
The fabled assassin snorted, “No, this is….” He once more clicked “play” on his dramatic sound effect playlist, “BLACK LICORICE, the assassin!”
Click! Another lost client. Licorice held the phone to his ear a minute more, then, again, paused his music reluctantly. It could have been a long shot, but for all he knew, the caller had only hung up accidentally. Things can happen with technology these days. A finger slip, an accidental spill of water….it was possible.
Licorice slammed it back down in exasperation. One customer. Not even one customer had hired him! Usually, by the time the first year of business had passed, assassins would be overwhelmed with clients! The good ones, at least….
“It could be a slow killing season.” He mumbled aloud to himself. Yet at the same time, he knew he couldn’t have been more wrong. Mercenary employment had skyrocketed during the year! There was an all time record of murder!
Brrrrrring brrrrring! Brrrr- “THIS ISN’T MARIO’S PIZZERIA!” Licorice screamed into the mouth piece. He was met with a soft chuckle.
“Oh no, I know exactly who this is….and quite the job I have just for you.”
“Let me, let me at least do the-the thing, just a moment….” Licorice pressed play on his sound effects playlist, “This is BLACK LICORICE, the assassin!”
The voice hardened, “Cut the theatrics. Robert Henway-you know where, everybody does, the big estate. Take him out and you get $1,000 for a completed job.”
Licorice shook his head in disapproval, only to recall one can’t witness actions over a telephone, “No no, make that $100,000.”
A sigh. “You get a thousand.”
“Fine, but throw in an iTunes gift card.”
Licorice reached out a gloved hand to shake, but once again remembered he was on the telephone.