Large Fierce Mammal

The study of any Martial Way that may lend itself to the harming or killing of another human being both broadens one’s horizons and limits options. I speak of limitations because if you are known to be skilled in empty hand techniques, a blade, or with firearms for example, you will be immediately suspected if your presence ever comes to be inconveniently coincident with a violent death inflicted by means you happen to be good at. Obviously, what I’m saying is you have to use other methods.

It’s a Dark Sentiments tradition that every year I either dedicate a piece to, or overtly write something inspired by Martin, my Esteemed Friend and forensic investigator for no less august body than the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Well, this year it’s both. While I’m sure his approach is more detailed than that of the Corporal in this tale, perhaps that Corporal knew more than one might think.

While it’s written in the first person, what follows is based on experiences that have been either observed by, or reported to, me over the years. All but the fun part at the end that is. That’s a fantasy we’ve all had.

With Deepest Regret

By LFM

My Wife and I once took ourselves
A house to rent a while.
In a quiet country setting,
It was perfectly our style.

The owners were returning
To the country they were from.
We parted ways on friendly terms
With toasts of buttered rum.

Years went by and all went well
Until there came a day
An email said the couple’d split,
Each gone their sep’rate way.

That message from the wife announced
The husband planned to go
To my attic where they’d stored some things
Ere leaving years ago.

She’d given him permission
To claim anything of his.
A short intrusion, in and out –
The thing should be a wiz.

Then last, she said he’d hit her,
And more often times than two,
So she had to flee to family.
She knew nought else to do.

As promised, in about a week,
The husband called to say
Exactly what we’d heard about.
We set a time and day.

On the day the man arrived
I kept a careful eye,
But even so, he poked around –
Less landlord now than spy.

He photographed each room and
Nearly everything we owned.
I stopped him then and told him
That no more would be condoned.

Someone so needing beating
I have rarely seen in life.
Before he left he even snapped
A picture of my Wife!

I firmly sent him on his way,
But then that very night,
I caught him parked in nearby woods,
Lights off, he revved to flight.

And so I called the Mounties in,
And this was what I heard.
“A landlord tenant matter sir,
“Don’t say another word.”

“We’re on our own,” I told my Wife,
When they had gone away,
“So let’s make peace instead of war,
And find a better day.”

My Wife agreed, she knows my mind,
And dinner plans were laid.
I told the Mountie Sergeant
That amends were being made.

I called our guest, apologized
For acting such a fool,
And bade him come to dine with us
In terms invoking drool.

The landlord, he was more than pleased
To find me so contrite,
He was happy to accept the plan
For eight that very night.

And so we fed the bastard,
And we plied him with some wine.
All the while convincing him
That everything was fine.

“Good sir,” I said, “No rush to leave,
“But ere it slips my mind,
“There’s something I would show you sir,
“If you would be so kind.”

“A matter in the basement,
“And I’d like to know your thoughts.
“We’ll give my Wife a little time
“To clear away the pots.”

He cast my Wife a slimy look
And acted loath to leave,
But didn’t speak the obvious
Kept hidden up his sleeve.

And so did I escort him
To the open basement door,
And gestured, as a Gentleman,
That he should go before.

He somehow lost his footing then,
His face next struck a blow
To the shelf above the stairway
That he should have ducked below.

I tried my best to save him
But I missed my grip, alack,
And I might have followed after
Had my boot not struck his back.

“Call 911!” I hollered
As I chased him down the stair.
I found him in some kind of fit
And grabbed him by the hair.

His strength was most compelling,
And I tried to hold him back,
But his head kept bouncing off the floor
I still can hear it crack!

At, last his struggles ended,
I knelt over him in tears.
No blinking when I touched his eye,
His brains ran out his ears.

They zipped him in a body bag,
And left us with the mess.
He’d had himself a good last meal,
At least there’s that I guess.

A Corporal heard my statement
And he wrote the whole thing down,
Before he said, “You did your best,”
And headed back to town.