BANG BANG - Adam Breckenridge

I shot my gardener because there was a weed he forgot to pull. By itself that would have been sufficient grounds for termination, but the weed was right along the edge of the walkway in open view and I came across it while I was showing my garden to a mistress I was trying to woo into marriage. I was so mortified I called the gardener out and shot him in front of her to smooth things over. She rejected my proposal (for which I shot her, too) and I just know it was because of that weed.

It is so difficult to find good hired help nowadays. That gardener was my third one this year, and in the last six months I’ve already gone through four cooks. The last one I shot because she bought decaf coffee instead of regular. The one before that cooked a hamburger well-done instead of medium, and before that it was an old woman who dropped a fifteen pound bag of flour on the floor, which, I’m sure you could imagine, made quite a mess. She pleaded with me that the bag just slipped out of her hands, but I shot her anyway. What use is a cook who can’t lift a fifteen pound bag of flour?

In the last few weeks I also had to shoot my mechanic for inadequately buffing the Bentley, and I had to shoot my tennis instructor because I sprained my wrist during a match and wound up losing (I also shot my opponent). I shot my masseuse because she wouldn’t give me a happy ending, and my personal trainer because I wasn’t losing weight fast enough. He said that the program he had me on required me to work out thirty minutes every day and not fifteen minutes every other day. I find the excuses these people come up with simply incredible.

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