Mizer

[headpop]

Image is a very important thing in the criminal world. Ironically, just like the cops say in Political Science. Eighty percent or more of law enforcement is that sight of that cruiser rolling down the street. The image. So too is the market for high profile crime. And my story starts out next to a fireplace in a beatiful wooden library of some rich guy's house. A warlord all his own. And a conversation between him, and a crime paying buddy.

"I got just the thing." And on the back of a business card he wrote down a phone number, and then handed it to him.

"What's this?"

"It's a woman. A hitwoman.. A very special hitwoman. She'll get your point across."

"Why?"

"Just trust me.. No one will ever forget the way your Mr. Donotello died."

[headpop]

"A man's lust is like a quicksand. Analogous to terror, he can't move. Because every movement he makes only nudges in the granules intimacies. She's like that, you know. A face you can't help but to fall in love with. An existance pushed up from the bottom, swallowing you whole. And a humoring of men that takes them as far as they're willing to go, and with the sophistry of a gender, she goes beyond it. You almost think it an impossibility.. because she's human.. confusing yourself and your actions with humanity's. Your knowing, like it belonged there. She's got you in her sheets.. she's got you just where she wants you to be to complete her mission. You don't even know if it's her fantasy. And it was so easy. An artform..

And like that? The irony of what you yourself have done to yourself. What you've imagined yourself to be, next to her. A few words are spoken. The first words you ever hear her say.. You die."

"My libido is a nucelar warhead."

"Your libido is butter."