Is adult amusement killing our children, or is killing our children amusing adults? – Marilyn Manson
I hear you ‘paint houses.’
It’s a mob expression for being a hitman, suggesting a willingness to do gory work. Wet work.
I paint houses. Bloody brush strokes.
Turns out if you are a famous writer, especially if you are famously unknown, you can write about killing for hire and nobody gives you real respect.
Think Trump, only lean with the coiled grace of a Nike marketing executive.
I can go on painting houses, because nobody would believe it.
And if there ever is any suspicion, somebody will call me, maybe stop by the house, especially if they are looking for a shootout, and ask me if it’s true. I work hard to cover up my innocence. That sounds crazy, but what else could I be hiding if I didn’t do it. Witch hunt.
Shouldn’t be allowed.
And I will strongly deny any knowledge whatsoever of all those bodies in the back yard.
Maybe if you had met my neighbors, you’d have helped me dig the hole.
Many many folks will back me up on this.
I didn’t do it. Nobody saw me.
And if somebody saw me, well, they are partisan.
Really, what are you going to believe? What you see and hear or what I tell you???
Real estate prices skyrocketed locally. (I blame Obama.)
How high is privileged.
I had to paint some houses. Made a deal with Zillow.
Create opportunity, only right you get a taste.
Not really illegal anyway, everybody does it.
I will be the hero. Almost writes itself.
House painter cleans up neighborhood.
Probably give me a medal.
Don’t stand there, the ground’s a little soft.
I was digging for corruption.