It’s time for Thack to find a wife.
This is not a decision based on loneliness, but rather of function. The age we live in has made it too difficult to cross off the necessary deeds on my enemies list. What with caller ID, cameras everywhere, and terrorism, I can’t seem to get any simple, old fashioned revenge. Time was if somebody hacked you off you could easily steal their golf cart and drive it into a ditch. Now, you’ll almost certainly get caught, but worse you’ll end up on the front page of the paper, and maybe do a little jail time.
As such, I’m seeking an emotionless thornback to help me fulfill my responsibilities – like an accomplice. There’s plenty of work to do and we’d never be bored so long as there’s hate in our hearts – which, of course, there is.
Some butterball with a bad dye job shushed me at church a few weeks ago. Being on a fixed income precludes me from having her killed, but I can afford to salt her garden so it bears no vegetables for a thousand years. Problem is she watches it like a mealworm, and I’m always caught “admiring” it. A distracting accomplice stopping for tea or to discuss millinery would help me boundlessly.
Then there’s the Irishman who borrowed a book, and, upon my requesting its return, he claimed it belonged to him. Normally I’d choose to drive over his legs in my paddy-wagon, then beat him with a sack full of frozen potatoes, but again I’d serve some sort of punishment for that. I would simply like to let the air out of his tires and call it even, but he has cameras at both his workplace and his moss-covered shack. New plan: He has a shanty at the beach he visits often. And anybody who’s anybody always stops at the Highway 16 Gas Station & Petting Zoo in Metter. There are no cameras here since proof of animal cruelty would get the place shuttered. We could camp out and await his arrival, slashing his tires as he feeds the appalling goats and emus. Worst vacation ever. I don’t really need a wife for that one, but who goes to the beach alone?