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3-18-2025 Signed With A Bullet

Oleander fesses up.

“Oleander, what the hell have you done?”

Rosano stood speechless, frozen in the doorway. It’s not every day one sees his boss lifeless with his brain matter splattered against the wall, carpet, coffee table, and everything else in its path. Yet there he was. If he wasn’t gawking wide eyed in horror at the scene itself, he wouldn’t have believed it. 

Oleander had nothing to say for himself. After all, the question needed no further answer. 

“Holy Mary, mother of God, man. When you called for a cleanup, I didn’t- I mean, I thought maybe you…” Rosano sputtered, the stages of grief audibly cycling through his shaking voice; starting with denial. 

“Holy fuck, this is not gonna end well for us, you know.” He shut the door behind him, hesitant to step in, but adamant nobody else would see. “You just HAD to call me here and now I’M part of this mess.” His arms flew up into the air and smacked the sides of his legs on the way down. “Fantastic.”

Anger. 

“I should have never picked up the phone. God. Jesus fuck, man, did you really have to shoot him in the head like that?”

Bargaining. 

“In the face,” Oleander croaked quietly. 

“NOT helping!” Rosano snapped. He took a deep breath and gave a defeated sigh. “You know this means we’re next, right? You just single handed signed our death wishes AND resignation letters. With a bullet to Don’s face. We are so fucking doomed.” 

Depression. 

“You know what, I can’t afford to think about that right now. I’m going to need you to do exactly what I say, capisce?” 

Acceptance.