The shack was well hidden from the dirt road and the sun had gone down long ago. No one would see them. The rain beat down on the roof constructed of scrap metal and roared like a locomotive all around. No one would hear them. Perfect night to kill a man.

Young dooogle and a couple hired hands had beaten the man to a bloody pulp earlier in the evening and transported him here in the back of his own car. So predictable…he visited the same whore house every Monday night while his wife was preoccupied at the Bingo hall on 5th Street. Unknown to most, dooogle had dated the main attraction of the brothel in high school at one point – she proved to be a useful decoy during his capture…and all dooogle owed her was a “non-monetary” fee for her efforts. He did not intend on making good on that promise sober. 

Though he now sit conscious and bound to a chair, the man remained silent with his head hung low. His sobs were barely audible as he attempted to maintain a shred of dignity. dooogle stared curiously at the grown man in his final hour. 

When the man finally lifted his head to observe his surroundings, the sobs turned into an outright crying fit. Snot ran out of the man’s nose and into his mouth. Tears swelled in his grey eyes as he pleaded for his life. A small hint of a smile formed on dooogle’s thin lips as he pulled out his father’s 38 snub nose revolver and displayed it. 

“I've waited a long time for this you piece of shit. It's funny, my father wanted to be the figure who steered me away from this type of work...and yet, he's the reason I'm standing in front of you tonight. Coward!”

The man let out a terrifying yell as dooogle raised his weapon eye-level. His heart pounded in his chest and he could feel the adrenaline rush through his body and into his limbs. Suddenly, the pistol felt like it weighed 100 pounds. dooogle’s arm began shaking slightly. Concerned about his accuracy, he took 2 steps forward and pressed the muzzle into the forehead of the unlucky one.

dooogle closed his eyes and remembered the advice given to him by a local wise guy experienced in revenge: focus on the pain and the trigger pulls itself. He remembered how the pain enveloped him when he heard the news. Images of family BBQs flashed in his mind. He remembered the day he turned 18 and his dad let him have a shot of whiskey. It burned his throat and his dad laughed so hard he nearly pissed himself. 

Tears filled his eyes and a lump settled in his throat. His joyful memories quickly vanished as he became enraged with the pile of shit that sat in front of him. As he opened his mouth to give the man one last piece of his mind, dooogles words turned to a scream. He wanted to tear a hole in the man's head...a hole the same size as the one now left in his life.

The round left the barrel and entered the victim’s skull. The exit wound was splendid. Brain matter covered the wall in an excellent display of beautiful rage. Gravity immediately took charge of the now limp body slumped in the chair in a pathetic heap of urine, blood and cowardly tears. Blood streaked down the tin wall and began forming a small puddle on the floor.

It was the first time he had ever killed a man but strangely, it felt natural.