8

Waxing//Knock Knock

I don’t necessarily love Mondo’s methods, let alone do I often partake. Generally, he would send his goons to do his dirty work, but they’re too messy, and I don’t like a mess. Since this was my idea, I decided it was only right that I get the job done myself, and make sure it’s done right.
The room in its natural state is a mess, which is inefficient and frustrating. I’m not sure how anyone could live like this, but I suppose that won’t be a problem any longer. The man’s head is down on his desk. Someone could easily make the assumption that he fell asleep while working. It’s almost peaceful, really, if it weren’t for the smell of sweat and shit. Humans are so great at degrading themselves even in death; defecation often being the last thing their bodies will do.
“Are you content?” Mondo breaks the silence, standing beside me. “It smells awful and I have no desire to hang around this shithole.”
I sigh, wiping the sweat from my hands with a handkerchief. Not my own sweat, of course, but that of the man who lies lifeless surrounded by his life’s work. “Patience, Jackson, you could stand to witness the work you so often refuse to do yourself. One more thing.” I traverse the room, doing my best not to trip on the wires and clutter strewn across the floor. I leave a note in the man’s hand, which lies heavy next to his face. I also leave a handsome payment with the note, an advance for the work to be done by his replacement.
I do one last glance over the room, ensuring everything is in order and that the radio will continue to play until the next person finds it. “Alright, we can leave now.”
Mondo smirks and opens the door for me, “A fitting album for his end, don’t you think? The posthumous release of a man loved by many.”
“Hm?” I look back to see the sleeve of the vinyl he had been playing not thirty minutes before; the unfocused image of a man in black and white. “Ah, if you say so, I can’t say I paid attention to much of what this guy actually said.”
The sky is dark and there’s still a light rain falling when we make it out of the building, a gondolier is waiting for us in the canal.
Mondo speaks as we settle into the boat, “You sure this will benefit us?”
I scoff before responding, “I never said it would benefit you, but it should benefit me. Unfortunately, the people have been entertained by him. I may not personally like him, but this is my way of making him our bitch. You’ll still have enough control that you shouldn’t be inconvenienced. I’ll need you to play nice for a bit.”
He crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything as we glide through the city. The overcast skies block out any light from the stars and moon. If it weren’t for the oil lantern in the boat, casting ominous shadows onto the water, we wouldn’t even be able to see the docks pass by.