I kill cats.  I’ve taken out dogs.  Ferrets.  Birds.  Mostly canaries, but I’ve killed Cockatoos.  That’s a hard bird to kill.  You wouldn’t think it.  But it is.  I do animals.  Contracted killings.  Oh, yeah.  There’s a demand.  Got a neighbor whose poodle barks all the time?  Got a cat crapping in your garden?  A Great Dane that growls if you’re even sitting on the same sofa together?  Would it be better if that goldfish were floating face up in the morning?  Oh, yeah.  Consider it done.  I don’t do wild animals.  You got problems with squirrels, call a hunter.  But if you want a Chihuahua wasted.  That’s me.  I’m not cheap, though.  How cheap?  That depends on whether you want it to look like an accident or not.  That depends on whether you want the old lady next door’s Siamese cat to just wander off, if you know what I mean, and it won’t matter how many flyers the old bag puts up.  My work is guaranteed.  Problems solved.  That would be a great motto, don’t you think?  Problems solved.  I would need nothing else on my business cards.  Just:  Problems solved.