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Killer Kills the Coopers in Middle America

Killer Kills the Coopers in Middle America

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Published by Joshua Allen
My first novel (written in 2005 and buried) come to light. It's been gathering dust, figured I'd air it out. At the time of writing, I had never heard of a comic book series called Wanted, and this "killer" has nothing to do with that one. For more info on my work, visit http://joshuallen.blogspot.com. I welcome any constructive comments as well. This is a rough draft, so bear with me. Fair warning: contains graphic sex, homosexual encounters, murder, drug use, and anything else I could think over the mad 4 days I wrote it.
My first novel (written in 2005 and buried) come to light. It's been gathering dust, figured I'd air it out. At the time of writing, I had never heard of a comic book series called Wanted, and this "killer" has nothing to do with that one. For more info on my work, visit http://joshuallen.blogspot.com. I welcome any constructive comments as well. This is a rough draft, so bear with me. Fair warning: contains graphic sex, homosexual encounters, murder, drug use, and anything else I could think over the mad 4 days I wrote it.

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Published by: Joshua Allen on Jun 18, 2009
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved

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09/30/2012

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remembered that Cooper was an actuary, but it had been so long

since he'd thought about such things, and besides that, where

the hell was Korla?

"What level were you before, Bob?"

"Well, sir, I was level three but after our visit inspired

me to go right out and take the next test, sir. Why I remember

it like it was yesterday, I wore a blue shirt..."

The killer let Bob ramble on for awhile. He couldn't figure

this guy out. He was a level four actuary, which meant very

little to the killer except he'd only been a level three a few

years ago. The killer thought, vaguely, that this was fairly

slow progress. Where was this ambition that Korla had told him

about? This guy seemed about as ambitious as a garden slug. Not

to mention the fact that the killer was pretty sure this guy had

low-grade retardation. The repetition, the babbling about menial

things, that all seemed to fit in with a mental handicap. Then

the killer realized it wasn't stupidity that made Cooper babble-

-well, it was a little bit, but not completely. The fact was,

this guy was scared to death. Now, if this guy knew the killer's

business with him, he'd have good reason to be scared to death.

However, the killer didn't think that was it because if Bob did

know the killer's business, he would have run away or called the

cops or done something.

No, the killer could see that Bob Cooper was scared of him

simply because he'd taken notice. Either this guy was some sort

of xenophobe, or he had something to hide. This guy liked a low

profile, but he had taken, the killer could see, a road that led

to low profile on every level. The guy was so low profile that

he stuck out like a laundry machine's coin tray, which was

always there to whack your arm on because your peripheral vision

saw the laundry machine, but always forgot about that metal coin

tray coming out. It was like a trick your mind played on you to

avoid the big white thing, but forget about the little metal

thing until it caught you and hurt you. This "Bob" guy was just

to average to be real, the killer realized. This guy was hiding

something.

Bob had stopped babbling. For a second the killer didn't

know why; then his subconscious told him that Bob had asked a

question. "What was that?"

"I mean...is that acceptable, for the Casualty Actuarial

Society (CAS). If not, I certainly don't mind taking the next

test. It's only that my company doesn't pay for them like most

companies do and I'm not sure it would make Mr. Caruther happy."

The killer tried to interpret what Bob had just told him,

but couldn't make much out of it. "No, Bob. I'm afraid it's

unacceptable. At the Casualty Actuarial Society (CAS) we have

standards to uphold. We have deadlines and schedules and numbers

and money to worry about and we can't wait for one little FUCK

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