Merrick

GHOSTS MUST DO AGAIN.

In a diner on the lower East Side, a large man, pushed away his bacon and egg’s over

easy plate. Damn phone call had totaled his appetite. Even the coffee got a sour taste

He muttered

‘Fucking psycho scumbag, Jesus, H, he had to leave a note?’

He knew, sooner or later he’d have to cut the whack job loose but the money, ahh, how

sweet it was. He’d been eyeing a place down in Boca, shitload of money but with this

earner, he’d been getting real close to putting a sizable down payment on it. Get out of

the sewer of the city. So, he pointed him in the direction of some kids, c’mon, they were

dead already, with crack Mom’s deadbeat father’s. They were on a fast rail to nowhere

any way. He was really just putting them out of their misery. And the psycho treated

them good, right, before………..he did……….whatever he did.

He didn’t really try to square it, to rationalize it, it was…………….what it was. Shit

happens. And if he could turn a buck outa it, who the fuck gave a big one?

The nutter, posing at being infamous serial killers, the fuck was with that? Had told him

‘Drop that shit, you’re gonna get attention and we

don’t…………….want……….attention. The guy whining

‘I wanna play.’

Leaving a twenty on the table, he figured, on second thought

‘It would be a goddamn pleasure to put two in the jerk off’s head but not yet, needed just

one more serious payment.