"I walk around behind him, grab his scrawny little head and tilt it back. I take out the.22 and jam it in his mouth. He's struggling, but he's an old wimp. It's like holding down an insect, a goddamn bug. I position him--I've seen enough forensic reports to know what it should look like. I say "Nighty-night, Your Honor," and pull the trigger. The rest you know. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Now how about another drink? I'm thirsty as hell."