>>1The first thing you need to do is get a passport. Why? I'll tell you that in a second. Get a passport in the name of Francis Ferdinand.
You're going to need a social security card and identification card, too. Are you still with me? Good.
Now take a picture of yourself and send it to this email address: FFF938ABBEH36263@yahoo.com. It's a guy I know. He's a king of photoshoop. Don't worry about it, he'll fix you right up.
Now you've gotten that taken care of you're going to need a handgun, a 56 magnum is what I'd recommend, but if you want shot peas, you could do that too. Once you're packing heat send me the IP address. I can hack into the global system of satellites to pinpoint the exact location plus or minus a few atoms of this moron.
I'll then send you the address and you can stake out the place. Find out his schedule, what he does, is he living with anyone, the whole she-bang.
Now we're going to need some infrared goggles and I'll need a plane ticket to wherever you live. We're going to kill this guy. Don't worry, I've done it before and it's not as hard as you think.
All we need to do is just park a few blocks away. I'll get out of the car with a dog and pretend like I'm walking. The dog will then break off the leash as planned and give me an excuse to walk up to the house. I'll go around the back and use my spy kit to cut a circle around the glass to open the handle of the door.
I'll then go to the front door and let you in. This is where it's going to get a little messy. You and are gonna sit at the base of his bed until he wakes up and we're gonna act like we're suppose to be there. He's gonna have no idea what the fuck is going on. He's just gonna see two guys standing there acting like they belong in shit.
Now you're gonna say something smooth as fuck. Try something like, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" But you gotta say it Samuel L. Jackson matter of fact style. Kind of like in pulp fiction.
He probably won't say anything and just be confused. I'll notice the phone. Won't say a word at all. I'll just pick it up. Show it to you, gesture, and you'll nod. This is where you gotta fucking grow a pair, alright? You're gonna put that piece of heat right to his head and pull the trigger. If you bitch out on me, I'll put you down too.
Now this is where the story kind of gets sad: you and me? We're done. The dog too. The dog moved to Mexico to escape the heat and I'll be gone too, but you got a new identity so don't worry about it. You're gonna move to Sweden and be Francis. A masculine woman with hygeine problems.
If you're not a chick, too bad. Because it's gonna happen. Kapeesh? Alright. Let me know what's up.