[ WP ] In the future you can apply to the government for a killing permit . What it is is a piece of paper that exempts you from any legal action for the murder of one person of your choice . Describe one man 's experience with this permit .

`` This is the right desk, yeah? I'm here about the killing permit thing.'' A knobby-knuckled hand slid the filled-out application form forward with a hasty, indelicate motion. 
 
 The man behind the counter looked up with professional politeness. `` You have the form all filled out, Miss-'' a glance at the name carefully penciled in on the form, `` Radden?'' 
 
 She tapped the pages with a heavy, damp finger, `` Look, right here. They're all filled out.'' She thoughtlessly shoved her matted hair out of her face. Her lips screwed up to one side, `` Do n't tell me I have to go to another window?'' 
 
 He scanned the form, flipping the wrinkled pages efficiently, `` No, no. Looks perfect. Will you be paying by cash or card?'' 
 
 She responded by fishing a knotted plastic grocery bag out from one of the inner pockets of her ratty coat and setting it on the desk. 
 
 The man's nose wrinkled ever so slightly as he carefully picked it up and fiddled with the knot on top. He prodded the bills suspiciously. 
 
 `` All acquired legally. All there.'' 
 
 `` Yes, right. Um, if you'll just wait over there, I'll have your permit processed soon.'' He made a dismissive gesture in the direction of the lines of chairs in the middle of the lobby. 
 
 She dropped down in one, away from the others. The room was loud with whispered sobs and shuffling papers. The screech of a chair scraping across the floor. 
 
 `` Would you like any juice, sweetheart?'' A mother, digging through her purse. Her child pouted, sulking, and turned away from her, arms crossed. `` I've got... let's see: apple, orange... hm, there's peanut butter crackers. How bout some crackers, Mark? And apple juice?'' She smiled at her son, who only hunched his shoulders up higher. She huffed a sigh, `` Well, you need to eat something. You ca n't go starving yourself just because you're upset.'' 
 
 `` Mrs. Bax? They're waiting for you at the front desk.'' 
 
 `` Listen, they're calling for me. How about I leave you here with a couple snacks, okay? They have lots of magazines. I think I even saw a bowl of candy over there. Just stay here, okay?'' 
 
 As soon as she left, he grabbed all of the food and dropped it into the waste basket before stomping back to his seat. He shot a glare over at the woman in the ratty coat. She gave him an ugly smile full of rotted teeth. It did n't look very sincere. `` So who is it? Your dad?'' 
 
 `` I do n't talk to murderers,'' he responded. 
 
 `` That's fair enough. I'm not murdering anyone, though.'' 
 
 `` Then what are you here for?'' His tone was harsh. He was clearly still angry. 
 
 `` I'm here for me. Just me. Figured I'd do it legally, why not.'' 
 
 His brow furrowed until his eyes widened, `` You're killing *yourself*?'' 
 
 `` Yup. It's about time.'' 
 
 `` That's stupid. You ca n't kill yourself!'' 
 
 `` Sure I can. Paid for it and everything. Ca n't tell you what a pain in the ass it was to get all that money.'' 
 
 `` But why would you kill *yourself*?'' 
 
 `` I told you: it's about time. Why's your momma here?'' 
 
 He sniffed noisily and crossed his arms again. He whined quietly, `` She wants to kill Gramma.'' 
 
 `` Why?'' 
 
 `` Says she's too old.'' 
 
 `` That's not so bad. Does your grandma know?'' 
 
 `` Gramma asked her to.'' 
 
 `` What a good kid! Wish I had a friend like your momma.'' 
 
 The boy started crying, his face bunching up red and ugly. 
 
 The woman sat back, unimpressed. She looked a little nauseated. The office staff were looking over sympathetically. They were used to this sort of thing. `` What'd I say?'' 
 
 He sniffled loudly, wiping his hand under his nose, `` I do n't want Gramma to die!'' 
 
 `` That's too bad, kid-'' 
 
 `` Shut up! I do n't want to talk to you! You're killing yourself, so you're a murderer too!'' 
 
 She grinned another ugly grin, `` Guess so.'' 
 
 At that moment, the mother walked in and went to calming and scolding her boy in turn. The ragged woman was called up to the desk and given her permit. She took it and left, leaving the boy only a sneer for his trouble.
