The Dinner

   As I stepped through the open door to the diner, a wonderfully delicious scent of sizzling meat greeted my sense of smell. I could immediately feel the relaxed atmosphere envelopping me as I lowered myself into the cushiony, red-apolstered seat at a table for two.
    Picking up the menu, I mentally selected my food. Scrambled eggs. I would need a lot of protein. I placed my order with the over makeup-ed waitress and proceeded to wait. I was so sure that he would show up. Well, he should show up. If he was brave and wanted to grasp control of his rapidly-deteriorating life, he would come.
    The waitress came back with my eggs and I dug in hungrily. The soft, sloppy batter tasted good on my tongue, cooked to near perfection. The milk that accompanied my meal was a little too creamy for my taste, but I drank it anyway.
    "Good, you're here."
    I looked up to see a tall man dressed in black, with equally black short hair and deep brown eyes. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" I asked him.
    He took a deep breath, sat down across from me, and nodded slowly. "I don't have a choice," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.
    "Why don't you have something to eat?" I suggested.
    "What? I can't think about food at a time like this!"
    "Of course not. I apologize. Well, let's get down to business. Give me the details." I steepled my fingers and leaned closer so I could inspect his face as it contorted with emotion.
    "It's my wife. She's been cheating on me and I want her dead," he whispered.
    "Are you absolutely sure that you want this?" I asked him.
    "I'm sure." He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, obviously disturbed by all of this. I didn't blame him. Every person is his position was the exact same way. Well, every person desperate enough to come to me.
    "Do you have the money?"
    He slipped an envelope to me under the table, and I checked to make sure the amount was correct before putting it in my pocket and nodding my thanks.
    He began to rise from his seat, but I stopped him with a hand motion.
    "Do you know what's amusing about your kind of scum?" I hissed, leaning across the small, round table.
    "Wh - what?" he stuttered, giving me a strange look.
    I smiled heinously. "You think that killing people solves anything."
    "It - it solves a lot of things," he spoke up, beginning to get quite nervous. "It takes care of blood-sucking people who only care about - "
    I pulled the trigger on the pistol I had been holding under the table, watching the bullet hit its mark. The man slumped over, dead.
    "You're right," I said to his lifeless body as people began to flee the building in a panic. "Killing does take care of blood-suckers. I hate blood-suckers!"
    Opening the envelope he had given me, I pulled out two crumpled five-dollar bills and laid them on the smooth surface of the table.
    "Thanks for the dinner."