It is all very tragic, and yet I am amused by everything in this story, starting with the fact that the husband's first choice was to reconcile with his estranged wife. His second choice was to have her killed with a hammer. That is a man who does not recognize nuance. I wonder how many people in his life have escaped close calls.
Husband: "Hey, Fred, do you have another beer?"
Fred: "All I have is some light beers."
Husband (thinking): I should kill him with a hammer.
My other favorite part of the story is that the hit man carried his alleged client's phone number in his backpack while on the job. I never attended hit man school, but I have to think they teach you on the first day not to keep your client's phone number with you on the job. And on day two they probably cover the basics of not letting yourself get strangled by the lady you are sent to kill.
I can imagine myself in the place of the nurse who did the strangling. Once you subdue a hit man, you really don't want to take the chance of him getting up no matter how much he's promising he won't do it again. It blurs the line of self-defense, but you have no real option but to finish the job once you start. And I suppose if a guy has just hit you with a hammer, you'd probably enjoy making his eyes bug out like a cartoon character. But maybe that's just me.
The other great irony is that the strangler is a nurse. I'd hate to be a future patient who recognizes her face from the news. I'd hold my pee for a week before I'd ask that nurse for a bed pan.
Just seeing if I can see this post. Yesterday's post is apparently viewable by a few people, but not by me. And based on the few comments, not by most people I think.
Okay, now look BELOW this entry to find the post I did AFTER this entry. Apparently the blog software has gone totally random.
I like to spot sentences that have probably never been uttered. This hobby is like bird watching but without the inconvenience of the outdoors. The trick is that the unique sentences have to be natural, not just a bunch of random words strung together. Take for example the following question: Did you hear about the inflatable Swiss dog turd that attacked an orphanage? That sentence qualifies even though I wrote it myself, because the event actually happened.
Luckily no orphans were injured in the attack. And no one is more relieved, so to speak, than the artist who squeezed out that masterpiece. I mean, if just once in your entire life you create a huge inflatable turd that injures an orphan, it sort of erases anything else you might do. You'll always be that guy.
I wonder how you get rid of a huge inflatable turd when you no longer want it. Do you take it to the dump just to be ironic? Or do you rent it on weekends for kid parties?
I'd probably put stucco on it and make it my home. That way when company came over, and I hadn't bothered to clean up, I would just say, "I'm sorry our house looks like crap." Everyone would laugh and laugh, and not even care that the floor is seven layers of toys, clothing, and miscellaneous remote controls. Anyway, if you accept a dinner invitation inside a giant turd, you probably started out with low expectations.
And what if the inflatable dog turd gets punctured? Would the first person to notice exclaim "Holy crap!"? And if not, would that person regret the missed opportunity for the rest of his natural life? I know I would. I have trouble releasing that sort of thing. For me, it would be like training all my life for the Olympics and forgetting to set my alarm on the day of my event. It would haunt me.