Andre M. Pietroschek
Minimalist Fiction: Assassin Yoga!
Assassin Yoga
© Andre Michael Pietroschek, all rights reserved
Disclaimer: No warranties!
© Andre Michael Pietroschek, all rights reserved
Disclaimer: No warranties!
Reader Info: The original edition came in an APP adding several pictures, nearly making it a comic. Here, it is keeping it alive until I contemplate, IF an extended edition will be one of those lucrative streaks of the muses, which I am notoriously missing-out on for life! ;-)
The story begins:
`The best way to hide something illegal is straight in the public eye!´
I knew that the job is dangerous, when all who chose to oppose me in the past cheered at me for going for it.
Lesser academic research.
Find ANY form or picture of assassin yoga that proves it is not just a renamed warrior yoga!
It did indeed sound exactly like the kinda task, which overpaid academics dish to their lackey pre-graduation assistants.
Hence, I grabbed my laptop and seated myself in the central library of our university.
Starting my first research.
Cross-indexing the research files of our university intranet with the public info of my internet research.
It soon resembled strolling across a graveyard.
Professor Dorsey, founder of the studies into India's effect on modern-day lifestyles and healthcare, had been banned from university, his title revoked, because a week after starting his research project on yoga, he seemingly also decided to live-stream his private LSD sessions on a public website.
Twitchy times, what a peculiar way to wreak havoc on his scientific reputation.
Doctor Harris, the female assistant of the former professor, was found dead in the parking lot on campus. Her throat cut. Police decided that some homeless or refugee mugged her the bloody way.
Given, that Doctor Harris also was one of the instructors for our campus security guards, and that she knew that specific parking lot from a thousand patrols, another peculiar coincidence.
My original predecessor, the assistant lackey, committed suicide by jumping out of a window in his apartment. Around four weeks before his graduation, with one of the most gorgeous girlfriends on campus, and zero mental health issues on his record!
My most recent predecessor had that tragic case of food poisoning, followed by a very wrong medication injected by the emergency crew in the nearest hospital.
I felt my stomach cramp, as I had read those notes with my laptop already online and Assassin Yoga already run as a browser search.
My thoughts raced, but I knew not a single student, who would optically resemble me enough to switch identities.
Hence, I wiped my laptop and fled the campus.
Walking homeless through the night, I contemplated restarting far, far away. Something rural, with a job not academic at all, and a lifestyle not going online overly much.
I took a train ride, once more went off the popular city parts, and finally decided to waste my limited money on a motel room.
The best shower in a lifetime, as my nerves stopped jamming every clear thought by alarmed stress reactions.
I walked to the clerk, intent to ask about food delivery services and something to drink.
`Mister John Doe, your wife already handled the pizza order!´, said the clerk.
`I never marri...´
THE END, as sound suppressed shots can't be heard by someone shot in the head. Nor, by a shocked and blood-splattered clerk!
Enjoy, scoff at my lack of skill, or ignore. ;-)Authors comment
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Published on e-Stories.org on 08/12/2023.
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