For Years I Was A Hitman Called ‘The Aneurysm’ And I’m Ready To Tell You Why I Finally Retired

The fisherman were coming closer and closer, and based on the path of the river, they would soon be just about 20 yards away from us. Close enough to get an eye on what was happening. Maybe they had a cell phone to dial 911 or simply just spook Phil to stop? I just had to keep delaying Phil.

“Hurting a woman Phil, that’s really the kind of pussy you are?”

I got another hard smash across the face from Phil’s gun as soon as the last word of the sentence came out of my mouth. I saw the boat was almost to the closest point once the world came back into focus.

I screamed out as loud as I could to try and draw the attention of the fisherman.

“FUCK YOU PHIL. You’re a fucking pussy if that’s what you want to do!”

I made eyes at the young woman, trying to telepathically tell her to scream out as loud as she possibly could. She somehow knew. She let out a horrid screech. The fisherman were close enough to hear, I saw their gazes shift to us.

“Come on, Phil, let’s just get you out of here. We’re a few hours from the gulf. We’ll get a boat to get you to Cuba, they’ll never bring your ass back here,” I said each word as loud as I could.

Phil pressed the barrel of the gun against my head.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re going to kill me after you broke out of prison? And kill this girl?” I went on.

I shot a look over at the fisherman, I hoped my overly-literal statement would tip them off that this was prison escapee, Phil LaRoche who was going to kill us. I hoped they would call 911, even though it would probably take the cops hours to get out where we were. The fisherman were staring right at us. Phil didn’t seem to notice.

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