Have to kill you

Jeff Drake at McSweeney's:

What did I do over the weekend? Well, Chip, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

I know a lot of people say that as sort of a weak attempt at humor, but I'm being serious: I would really have to kill you. I'd have to make you disappear—permanently. You might think of me as Les, the good-natured new guy in data processing, but I am a deadly killer, indoctrinated in the ways of the assassin, a cunning student of the 834 Fatal Ways. You need an example? I could come silently at night. Your wife and your children wouldn't hear a sound. Your dog wouldn't even stir. You would just be gone—as if you never existed. No trace, no clues. The local authorities would scratch their heads in puzzlement. "We don't even know where to start!" they would exclaim. "It's as if he disappeared into thin air!"

I am not joking.

Unlike the "hilarious" IT guy who says, "I could tell you how to turn your Out of Office Assistant on, but then I'd have to kill you," I've actually watched the life fade from a man's eyes. Not once, but many, many times. Your IT friend thinks he knows what this is like, but the 1,000-plus hours he has invested in Halo don't even compare.

Also, after that IT guy ends up telling you how to operate your Out of Office Assistant, you probably exchange pleasantries and then go your separate ways. This is not how it will go down if I tell you how I spent my weekend. Because, as I mentioned before: if I were to do that, I would have to kill you. For real. And forever.

It wouldn't be a choice. It would be an automatic reaction, like pulling your hand back from a hot stove. It could be that quick, too. It might involve something as ordinary as a shoehorn.

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