The Promise

I slather on the final layer of joint compound and wait for it to dry. Next, I sand it down, remove the dust with my shop vac and follow up with a fresh coat of paint- eggshell white, a personal favorite. As the paint dries I take precise measurements along the perimeter of the room for the floor molding. I go outside and cut all the molding to size, then stain the wood with a Mulberry Almond wood finish by Minwax™. I always use the oil-based finish by Minwax™, as opposed to the water-based variety, because it is durable and will provide a much more complete protective layer against exposure to detrimental elements, such as moisture or sunlight. I finish the second coat of paint while I leave the molding to dry, a pleasant sent of wood-finish permeates the room. After a cigarette and a RedBull, which I crush and throw onto the back porch, the molding is ready for install. Within minutes the room is lined with beautiful Mulberry Almond molding, the sound of my nail-gun smooth and rhythmic as I complete the swift installation.

I take in the view and a deep satisfaction overcomes me- the fully finished job site, nothing hits quite as good. Well, nothing but The Promise that is! The Contractor’s Promise, my grin of satisfaction turning sinister in anticipation of The Promise. I walk slowly, casually…. but with great intent. I enter the bathroom, everything is perfect, the Homeowner’s dream. I remove the door-stop, unscrewing it with ease, then I slam the door open hard into the drywall. ‘BANG’ The doorknob is fully in the wall now. I pull it out aggressively and work my screwdriver into the wall a bit to create a larger more hideous hole, making sure to scrape the paint off in spots that would have no relation to the doorknob hitting the wall. I walk over to the drywall in the bedroom I just finished and painted. I swiftly drive the flat-head screwdriver into the wall and pick out a chunk, the sound of the debris hitting the floor creating a symphony of pleasure for me. I pounce into a crouching position and start working the flat-head in-between the drywall and the molding, violently now, animalistically now. I pull out multiple pieces in a fervor, my only regret that I can’t do it with my teeth, and scream in bloody aggression. I quickly load the pieces into my truck. I pull out an array of unstained pieces, I install some unstained pieces- clashing beautifully with the stained pieces across the room. And for the finale, the finish to the contractor’s concerto, I leave a few pieces of molding next to their respective install spots- each slightly too big or small and place a hammer with the incorrect nails beside them.

I call down the homeowner. His face first bright with glee when he sees the finished job site, then the slight frown when he begins to see the imperfections, the unfinished, the impure. I hide my smile and pat him on the back. “As you can see BUD, the job is almost finished, thanks again for getting me that full cash payment today. I wanted to finish the job today of course but I’ve got some plans with the wife and kids I’m already late for. You know how it is..” I nod sheepishly but knowingly, only the slightest look of doubt, of discomfort, starting to build on the homeowner’s face. I try to control myself, my pleasure immense in anticipation of The Promise. I’m seething with euphoria but I maintain my composure. Keeping my sickness out of my smile I say- “But don’t worry BUD” another pat on the back slightly too hard this time. “Don’t worry Bud, I’ll be in here first thing tomorrow morning and get this whole thing wrapped up. I Promise!” I turn to the homeowner and shake his hand out of rhythm for slightly too long, standing just half a step too close.

Before the homeowner even knows what hit him, I’m halfway to the door and saying “Well gotta go, already late, happy wife happy life, you know how it is. HA.HA. Hey the misses and little Johnny been asking about you, why don’t you come by for dinner again next week.” I’m nodding with a smile, out the door before he can respond. I slide into my truck and cruise on out of the driveway. I text the Craiglist’s actors I’ve been keeping on retainer to play my wife and kids, letting them know their job is done. I send them their final Bitcoin payment, toss the phone out the window, and watch it shatter to pieces along the highway in my side-view mirror, my pleasure unfathomable. I want to scream through my skull in satisfaction. From the glove-box I grab the radio signaler, pressing the red-button that activates the series of dynamite sticks I placed throughout the abandoned home I had furnished and been squatting in for many months. I throw the detonator out the window and take the next exit driving smoothly into the junkyard dropping off my truck making sure the VIN numbers are all scratched off. I throw my fake IDs into the tire fire at the back of the junkyard and hop into the trunk of a Honduran who is going to smuggle me over the Mexican border. Arriving in Mexico I thank the Honduran and head south by bus. The Honduran’s car explodes with him in it a half-hour later from the timed dynamite stick I left in the trunk. I arrive in southern Mexico later that night and seek out the nearest plastic surgeon, receiving full facial reconstruction and fifty pounds worth of liposuction for good measure.

And I’ll stay here for a few weeks in contentment from The Promise. But alas in two months, perhaps three. I’ll get that hankering, that itch that only The Promise can scratch. And I’ll be back on my way to the states, fake passport obtained from the black market. And I’ll be ready for another Homeowner, but he won’t be ready for me, they are never ready FOR ME.