Seven Demons by Aidan Truhen (best motivational books for students TXT) 📕

Friday did he really make ham out of—Jesus never mind I just—all I want is to get this job done okay and these guys are putting themselves in my way when I—you know I totally tried to do it the respectable way but there are issues of—”

“You propose to annihilate them.”

“Will you help?”

“Do you promise me that the programmer in question will not be harmed?”

“Yes.”

“…I believe we should define harm.”

“Friday—Friday man I’m not—okay I have been off my game that thing with the lady whose car we stole is well she is not alive and obviously there was the unfortunate business with Mr. Sharkey’s exploding face but—but when—let’s say when I am in control of the environment I do not wish to make people die that is not my thing.”

“You derive no pleasure in random killing for its own sake. That is true.”

“Well so here we are I am asking you as a service to I guess local humankind to help me here so that no one has to get so much as a nosebleed—well I say no one but obviously I’m excluding from that certain un-Swiss fucking Fascists who will probably fall from a great height onto a pointy object or something—”

“Do you also understand the reasonable bounds I require in exchange for this information?”

“No serious physical discomfort or damage no death little or no loss of earnings no serious long-term emotional or psychological trauma.”

“That…is correct.”

“Within the obvious limits like if I don’t know if this person has a shotgun under his bed in some ultra-Swiss thing that I do not know about—”

“Yes of course self-defense is respectable even in a criminal context if not legally understood—”

“Okay.”

“…Okay yes.”

“You people are awesome I am just so grateful.”

“Do not thank me please it makes me feel soiled.”

“You’re an asshole and you’ve given up everything about who you are to do this one dirty thing and I can’t believe you’re helping me. Aw that came out cold man I did not mean that to sound cold.”

“…”

“Honestly Friday I really do like you guys and if you like I’ll give you a hug to get you through this weird little moral crisis you’re in but I get the sense that would not help. Right? Am I right? Yeah so maybe hug Mr. Dory and get back to me when you can okay?”

“…”

“…”

“When I talk to you Jack Price I believe I have woken from a coma to find I am living in a locally made experimental film.”

“Ain’t that the world these days my friend.”

—

“Thanks Rossini that was horrible here is money bye.”

“Did you just call me Rossini?”

“I am an asshat lady but I know the difference between the Marriage of Figaro and The Barber of Seville and you did right by me so yeah I did.”

“…You need me again, you call, that’s fine. But call me Mozart okay?”

“…Sure Mozart I will.”

“Now I’m going to go park my plane in front of your plane again and maybe draw a giant penis on it in ultraviolet paint.”

“O screw you.”

I go before she says in your dreams or some such because Mozart is a nice person and very useful and I cannot have Doc murdering her for loose talk.

—

Doc still has the same number of pigs. The door has been well behaved. Lucille has been watching it to make sure.

Every hour of every day.

Door vs. Lucille. Lucille vs. door.

Rex says that neither of them has blinked.

—

Back to Eiger. Back to the job.

“Hi Charlie how’s it going?”

“It’s going boss that I will say.”

“Are you in yet?”

“God LORD boss butt-plug joke much?”

“What?”

“Oh my God never mind yes I am in.”

Charlie vs. the dongle for Eiger’s checking account: first to three falls.

One.

Two.

Three.

This is how truly modern bank robberies happen and it is the best way. You just steal a few cents from every account in the ledger and put it all into a new account, which transfers every month to another external account, which immediately forwards it to one of those banking jurisdictions which do not keep great records and then you spend it. Kids’ stuff.

Or you don’t steal anything because that was never what you were there for in the first place.

—

There’s one more thing that Hans Eiger does every day. He goes to a tobacco shop. It is not one of the grand ones it is quite small and even a little bit scruffy but even so when you go in there it smells of respectability. It smells of old men keeping secrets and it smells of government. There is a mezuzah on the door frame and a morbidly obese dachshund on a cushion by the till. Hans Eiger does not ever buy anything in the shop but every day he goes in and he inhales one cigar and then nods to this little guy and the little guy nods back.

So this time when Hans Eiger goes out I go in. I figure the little guy for maybe Armenian but when I wish him barev dzez he snorts and says his mama is Beta Israel so we talk coffee. Ethiopian coffee is serious coffee. Weak-ass North American barista brew is like a ballet shoe and Ethiopian coffee is like something handmade in leather for the president of a Russian bank.

We do not talk about Hans Eiger at all and still less do we talk about cigars even although these are some fine fucking cigars and they should be respected by the mouths of beautiful women because that is the best thing that can happen to a cigar. We talk coffee like two old men remembering great sex they once had with girls they wish they’d hung around for and fallen for and I wish Doktor Paul was here because he would love this.

We talk for like two hours and then the little guy says it is time now for me to go and I say thank you yes it is and I buy a cigar. I tell him give me his favorite and I guess that