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It’s ‘mah Job

The man entered the cold bright room clutching at his arm and limping terribly. A bruised face blotched in purple and blue was barely recognizable beyond the old scar dragging along the man’s puffed cheeks; his slick black hair seemed to be the only thing ok with him.
“Peter you look like hell.” The doctor puffed out the corner of his mouth, the words intermingling with the smoke escaping from his pursed lips holding the thin white cigarette. He was an old man with hair that was more grey than black or white. A few scars lined his face, the most famous one down over his eye where a greenish-grey marbled eye glared back.

“I’ve had better days, you know that doc.” The man shuffled closer.
“Well this job is going to kill you.” The doctor replied. The other man wheezed a laugh only to double into a coughing fit. Once he’d composed himself enough to speak he said,
“Part of the job specs, that and bruising.”
“Why don’t you sit down before you cough blood all over my floor or something?” The doctor pulled a pair of gloves from the metal drawer he sat beside.
“Oh I don’t need that kind of check-up doc.” The man said with a sly smile that made his swollen face almost comical. He moved to sit on the “bed” where the doctor sat his patients.
“Well we don’t know how far that bruising has gone I mean, by the looks of things…” He let the sentence hang
“It’s part of the job. You would know.”
“I do and you know what, I was a goon but I was a smart goon. There are just fights you don’t even consider getting into if you know your limits.”
“If I stick to my limits, I’m going to remain a goon for the rest of my life.” He nodded at the doctor, “Like you.”
“I’m a goon who is still alive Pete. I’m not any of those unidentifiable bodies at crime scenes, I’m not the don’t-be-one-of-these poster boys at the precinct either. That’s where you’ll end up if you don’t consider your options before jumping headfirst into every fight. Next time you might be jumping headfirst into a bullet.”
Peter considered the doctor as he began his check up, gently lifting his face to check the extent of the damage.
“Luckily this will all go down soon enough and it doesn’t look like you broke any bones or fractured anything on the face.”
“Just gimme the pain meds and whatever else I need and let me get out of here.”
The doctor moved back in his seat,
“Is this all you are going to aspire to become? A villain?”
“Guess so”
The man gave the doctor a look of a man who has nothing else in the world to lose but his life.
“It’s ‘mah job.”

About Nthato Morakabi

Nthato Morakabi is a South African born, published author working as a Technical Writer for Everlytic and a writer for Gamecca Magazine. He has published short stories both internationally and locally, and is hoping to publish a novel in the near future. He is an avid reader, inspired blogger, and an aspiring digital artist.

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