Parker jumped with a start and stared towards the kitchen, clutching the sofa pillow to his chest. Pots and pans flew out of the bottom drawer and against the wall, clattering to the floor each time. Before his heart could explode from fear he saw his roommate, clad in a ninja suit, rise from the mess with a rusty wakizashi in one hand and a tiny cell phone in the other.
“Right now, Mr. Smith? You know I don’t typically take work on such short notice.” Ken Hiroshitzu left the kitchen, stepped over the rotting pizza boxes in the living room, and made his way to the bathroom.
“What? No, no, there’s no extra fee for this but we’re going to need to act fast. The target’s on the way now?” Ken dropped his leggings, squatted on the toilet, and let loose an unearthly howl from his bowels. Parker’s heart skipped a beat.
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘helicopter’?” Ken’s colon eeked out one last squeal, like a large dog getting hit by a small car. “Well, I suppose I have the tools for that.” With the fluidity only a ninja could have he had his ass wiped and his leggings on in one smooth motion.
Ken made his way back through the living room and tossed the wakizashi aside, which conveniently found itself lodged in the couch where Parker’s head rested moments ago. “No, I don’t think making this look like an accident is an option.” Ken paused, his mouth twisting into an obvious frown underneath his mask. “That’s definitely out the question.” He waited, furrowed his brow, and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Well, I guess that’s one way to do things,” he sighed.
Ken needlessly rolled over the kitchen table, kicked open the fridge, and pulled out a jug of coffee. “This sounds rough. It will be at least three hundred for the evening.” Ken looked straight up at the ceiling and began pouring the jug all over himself.
“Of course it’ll be a clean job. I’m the best there is at what I do.” Ken tapped his phone and pocketed it. “Oh, hey Parker!” he exclaimed as he made his way to the door. “Big date tonight! See you later!”
Ken slammed the door behind him and a hanging pot in the kitchen clattered to the floor. Parker looked at his phone, saw it was 4:38 AM, and slumped into the fetal position on the floor.
Today’s writing exercise is from here.