He carried the limp body into the bathroom, laying him on his back in the tub.


The drug he had slipped into the target's beer just an half a hour ago had knocked him out cold.


Putting the stopper in, he turned to exit the room then the house, to his car to get the chemicals he would need.


Tonight was going to be long, boring and messy.


Maybe he could kill some time goin’ through the target's phone. Maybe he could find a pretty girlfriend that's gonna need a shoulder to cry on. Yeah, that would be nice.


Returning to the bathroom, he checked for a pulse. It was there but very weak. He’d been doing this for so long, he knew when they needed another dose.


Knowing the guy wasn't gonna make it, he got to work putting the chemicals in the tub and ripping the shower curtain down to cover the body.


The chemicals needed time to work, so he went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. Then the living room, to watch some T.V. while poking around looking for the target's phone.


Only to remember the guy had put it in his pocket. Damn.