"Leslie What - Designated Hater" - читать интересную книгу автора (What Leslie)

more pissed by the minute because you were hopelessly late, but still out of milk,
bread, and tuna.

Remember: The night that guy in the olive-colored pickup pulled behind you
and blasted his horn. To teach him a lesson, you lifted your foot from the
accelerator, slowed the car, just a little, but enough to make him mad. Your cheeks
blushed warm and you felt a little ache that you at first assumed was only your gut
acting up; before long you started worrying that the pain came from your heart.

The pickupтАЩs brights were halogen enhanced. You switched your rearview
mirror to its night setting, avoiding blindness, and gave him the bird when he roared
past. He cut in front of you, as if mooning you with his truck. You leaned on your
horn and switched on your brights, a little shaky but feeling brave for having fought
back. Then you saw the empty gun rack through his back window.

Now, hold that thought.

And take a deep breath, then let it leak out with a growl that leaves your voice
scratched like the finish on your first new car an hour after you drove it off the lot.

YouтАЩre sitting down for breakfast at your formica-top table. You chew on a
mangle of dry toast, irritated beyond belief that youтАЩre out of jam and coffee, and the
only store within twenty miles is the one where you vowed youтАЩd never shop.
YouтАЩre with a guy тАФ not just any guy, but someone youтАЩve heard of, maybe even
respect, or at least fear тАФ who has come to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime.
The guy must read minds; he snaps his fingers and two cups of coffee appear. He
slides yours across the smooth table. YouтАЩre afraid to ask for jam.

тАЬIтАЩve had my scouts out watching you for a long time and they tell me that
youтАЩre finally ready to join up with the big leagues. I want you to sign on the dotted
line,тАЭ he says, and thrusts a piece of paper with his тАЬXтАЭ already scrawled in black
blood. тАЬItтАЩs easy,тАЭ he says. тАЬIтАЩm giving you the chance to manage the Designated
Hater and get back at every SOB whoтАЩs ever stood in your way. It works like this. . .
.тАЭ

YouтАЩll live your life, just as youтАЩve always done, except from now on youтАЩll
control the power of divine retribution. YouтАЩll pick some poor schmo to do the dirty
work for you, but youтАЩll choose the targets.

тАЬKeeps your hands clean. Plausible Deniability,тАЭ he says. тАЬTons more
satisfying than doing the work yourself. Remember that guy in Toledo who went
postal after losing his job? He shot up the place, killed people heтАЩd been working
with for years. Remember how nobody understood why he did it? The guy himself
couldnтАЩt tell you, but hereтАЩs the secret,тАЭ he says.

тАЬHe did it under orders from my last manager. ThatтАЩs the beauty of the
system. A vicarious thrill. The Designated Hater does the work, takes the risks, eats
the stress; the manager watches it go down, relaxes, thinks up more ideas. For
someone like you itтАЩs a win-win situation.тАЭ