6.
Six years ago.

My first actual kill. It was a Munich job, this 2/22 North Korean that grew up in LA. I begged to be on the
case. Because of Tina, obviously. The whole reason I applied to The Office in the first
place.

This Korean guy, Jun “Chopper” Park, came out of the LA street art scene, but
somewhere along the line developed a hard-on for Kim Il-Song, apparently. Takes all
kinds. He’d gone on the lam after 2/22, spent time in Asia, finally came back into the US
on a fake passport and was holed up in some crap motel in Oahu.

Like shooting fish in a barrel, Antolos said. Antolos was my partner on the project. He’d
lost an uncle in 2/22, so it was personal for him too, but not like me. I think I scared him
a little bit, with my intensity.

I spent the flight to Hawaii imagining how I would kill this guy. One of my favorites was, I
would walk in on him cleaning his gun and hold my aim while he scrambled to put it back
together, and just as he was about to slide the last piece into place – Bam! Bam! Bam!

When we found the hotel we got the room number. In the hallway I said, “mine” and
Antolos just nodded. He understood. We have a mag card that works like a skeleton key
on any hotel door in the US. Useful. I took it out.

I came into the room gun high. Park was jerking off. It was surreal and kind of pathetic.
He looked at me for half a second. Not even shocked or scared, just embarrassed.

I flipped my gun to semi-automatic and blew his head off.

I felt like a cop on a TV show and I tried to think of one of those snappy “look who got
the last word” one-liners. But everything I thought of sounded lame, so I bent over and
threw up my breakfast instead.

Antolos stepped in behind me and stared for a minute. “Christ, Sherer. Talk about
getting caught with your pants down.”

I’d never seen brains scattered around like that. I let myself heave one more time and
then clamped down, forced myself to stand up and walk out of the room. I holstered my
gun because I was shaking so hard I was afraid I’d fire it accidentally.

I got a commendation on my record.

7 -> Adding 1 letter to the end turns a 1 syllable word to 3

6.
Six years ago.

My first actual kill. It was a Munich job, this 2/22 North Korean that grew up in LA. I begged to be on the
case. Because of Tina, obviously. The whole reason I applied to The Office in the first
place.

This Korean guy, Jun “Chopper” Park, came out of the LA street art scene, but
somewhere along the line developed a hard-on for Kim Il-Song, apparently. Takes all
kinds. He’d gone on the lam after 2/22, spent time in Asia, finally came back into the US
on a fake passport and was holed up in some crap motel in Oahu.

Like shooting fish in a barrel, Antolos said. Antolos was my partner on the project. He’d
lost an uncle in 2/22, so it was personal for him too, but not like me. I think I scared him
a little bit, with my intensity.

I spent the flight to Hawaii imagining how I would kill this guy. One of my favorites was, I
would walk in on him cleaning his gun and hold my aim while he scrambled to put it back
together, and just as he was about to slide the last piece into place – Bam! Bam! Bam!

When we found the hotel we got the room number. In the hallway I said, “mine” and
Antolos just nodded. He understood. We have a mag card that works like a skeleton key
on any hotel door in the US. Useful. I took it out.

I came into the room gun high. Park was jerking off. It was surreal and kind of pathetic.
He looked at me for half a second. Not even shocked or scared, just embarrassed.

I flipped my gun to semi-automatic and blew his head off.

I felt like a cop on a TV show and I tried to think of one of those snappy “look who got
the last word” one-liners. But everything I thought of sounded lame, so I bent over and
threw up my breakfast instead.

Antolos stepped in behind me and stared for a minute. “Christ, Sherer. Talk about
getting caught with your pants down.”

I’d never seen brains scattered around like that. I let myself heave one more time and
then clamped down, forced myself to stand up and walk out of the room. I holstered my
gun because I was shaking so hard I was afraid I’d fire it accidentally.

I got a commendation on my record.

7 -> Adding 1 letter to the end turns a 1 syllable word to 3