My favorite story this month is about the hit man who was allegedly hired by a husband to kill his wife, a 51-year old nurse. The alleged hit man whacked the nurse with a hammer, which only pissed her off, so she strangled the hit man with her bare hands.
It is all very tragic, and yet I am amused by everything in this story, starting with the fact that the husband’s first choice was to reconcile with his estranged wife. His second choice was to have her killed with a hammer. That is a man who does not recognize nuance. I wonder how many people in his life have escaped close calls.
Husband: “Hey, Fred, do you have another beer?”
Fred: “All I have is some light beers.”
Husband (thinking): I should kill him with a hammer.
My other favorite part of the story is that the hit man carried his alleged client’s phone number in his backpack while on the job. I never attended hit man school, but I have to think they teach you on the first day not to keep your client’s phone number with you on the job. And on day two they probably cover the basics of not letting yourself get strangled by the lady you are sent to kill.
I can imagine myself in the place of the nurse who did the strangling. Once you subdue a hit man, you really don’t want to take the chance of him getting up no matter how much he’s promising he won’t do it again. It blurs the line of self-defense, but you have no real option but to finish the job once you start. And I suppose if a guy has just hit you with a hammer, you’d probably enjoy making his eyes bug out like a cartoon character. But maybe that’s just me.
The other great irony is that the strangler is a nurse. I’d hate to be a future patient who recognizes her face from the news. I’d hold my pee for a week before I’d ask that nurse for a bed pan.