[ WP ] An assassin receives an unusual contract : a man on death row already slated for execution .

I like to tell people I work alone with a team. You talk to me. You pay me. You negotiate with me. I farm out what needs to be farmed out and I give you an itemized invoice for a new deck. You pay for your new deck. Someone comes around later asking what you needed a new deck for your one bedroom shit apartment in East LA and you get to come up with your own explanation. I do n't provide that. Your explanation is n't good enough and people start asking too many questions and I build you another deck. That deck is on me though and no one comes asking too many questions afterwards. 
 
 This talk of carpentry only really gets interesting when this two-bit low-life fuck chap comes up to me in a little haunt I like to haunt and asks what the price of cedar would be for 1,000 square feet of deck. 
 
 I do n't mind this kind of cutesy shit because it keeps everybody safe. I do mind this particular low-life. I've had dealing with him before. His name is Johnnie, that's right with an I and E. That particular detail alone should tell you what sort of asshole this guy is. I know Johnnie from way back when I made him piss through a catheter for a few weeks. He's fucking friendly for a guy who spent the better part of two days in ICU because of me. 
 
 I pay the tab because this cheap jack asshole Johnnie, with an I and an E, sure as hell wo n't. I know he's the middle man. Johnnie does n't even have a one bedroom apartment in East LA to build a deck on. As the saying goes he barely has a catheter bag to piss in, or that's how that saying is going in this particular story. 
 
 Back at my place he sits on my couch completely uninvited. That's the kind of guy this Johnnie is. He's animated and talking fast, like he's on meth, because he probably is. 
 
 `` So I got a job for you and it's coming from Henry Murphy himself. You see he needs this done fast and he needs it done like you do it. The contract...'' Little Johnnie, with an I and an E, trails off here. 
 
 I would imagine he stops talking because I have a Smith and Wesson revolver pointed at his prick of a head. He could have just had something caught in his throat. I do n't know. I'm not a goddamn mind reader. 
 
 `` It's hot in here is n't it?'' I say looking down those big iron sights. 
 
 To his credit Johnnie does n't piss my couch. `` Hold on now, Dick. Hold on now. Let's not get dramatic here and I am in peace and with good intentions and there is absolutely no reason...'' 
 
 `` Strip.'' That one word shuts him up. `` Take everything off and spread your ass cheeks. I'm not going to enjoy this.'' 
 
 Johnnie, with an I and an E, does what he's told. It takes a little convincing. I get to see some unpleasantness. I get to see that scar I gave him that sent him into the arms of the catheter bag. I get to see that he's not wearing a wire. I throw him a towel. We leave the living room and head to my recording studio. I'm multi-talented. I record music and I build decks. I'm also tone deaf and do n't own a power saw but resourcefulness gets you by. 
 
 In my little sound proof closet we get down to the deck dimensions. The shit that Johnnie spews is a whopper and if he was n't sitting in front of me wearing only a Mickey Mouse towel I'd throw him out. You do n't get this far down the rabbit hole without some higher direction. 
 
 He details me the particulars. I do n't take notes. I've never needed to. 
 
 `` So Henry Murphy has a contract for you. He's got a deck for you to build. He does n't say what kind of wood to use but he wants the deck built right and he will pay you whatever it takes to build the deck right. You can use oak, cedar, pine, mahogany, balsamic, maple...'' 
 
 `` Two things. First, balsamic is a type of vinegar. You're thinking of balsa wood and it would make a real shit deck. Second, you can loose the deck metaphor. Who the hell does he want taken out?'' 
 
 `` Oh I thought we were being all secret and stuff. I'm pretty sure it's balsamic wood man. I guess you know that though since you build decks but maybe if balasmic wood is n't a good deck wood you would n't work with it so how would you know...'' 
 
 `` The name. Give me the name.'' 
 
 Johnnie shuts up at this. He looks at all four corners of the room, the ceiling, the revolver in my hand, and that happy ass mouse on his crotch. Then he spits it out, `` Alfonso Pierce.'' 
 
 `` What's his last known address, Johnnie, with an I and an E?'' 
 
 `` Why you always got to say that about my name? My mother gave me this name.'' I clear my throat and he gets back on track. `` He's in Arizona. He's in the prison there.'' 
 
 `` Which prison, Johnnie, with an I and an E?'' 
 
 `` There you go again, man, you just got no respect but I'll tell you Murphy said you'd know which one. He said you'd know.'' 
 
 `` Well I do n't know.'' 
 
 `` Yeah Murphy said you would. He said just tell him he's on death row in Arizona.'' 
 
 Now that gets me. I'm not thinking of doing that shit with his name on Johnnie. I'm thinking about that poor asshole living his daily existence in solitary and facing a needle. I'm partially curious why the hell anyone would want anyone executed that's on death row. Why pay for the groceries when you're getting food stamps? Then I remember I do n't care. I'm not paid to care. I'm paid to build decks. 
 
 I stand up. `` Give me three days. If it can be done I'll let Murphy know the price and the time frame.'' Then I open the door to the recording studio for him. `` You got three minutes to get your shit on and get out.''
