44 "That'll be a problem," he said, "since I'm allergic to most plastics."

Says:

"That'll be a problem," he said, "since I'm allergic to most plastics."

I roll my eyes and hand over the package. “Plastic explosives aren’t going to set off your allergies. Besides, it’s in a package. We’ve been through this over and over again. All you have to do is take this box here, all the way to our good friend Paco’s house way over there. Got it?”

His empty smile and nod tell me nothing. I watch as he starts to turn around and walk away before jerking back and asking more questions: “Wait… what? Why did you call him our ‘good friend’? I thought this was going to kill him?”

Ever since I came here I’ve had these sorts of problems. Maybe it’s the language barrier or the culture. All I know is that it’s screwing with my business. This was the problem with outsourcing labor in the mafia. You can always count on a foreigner to mess things up.

“Look, just take the package would ya?”

He turns once more and begins to walk towards the red stucco house. I can finally relax. I see him walking up to it, but he doesn’t stop. He keeps walking.

And walking. He goes three houses down and sets the package on the doorstep of a stranger’s house. On top of it all, he hits the detonator without leaving.

Bits of my Hispanic lackey paint the walls. I can only sigh as I take out my cell phone and order three more replacements.