My readers know my fondness for my security and private enforcement company slash consulting firm, “Thugco”. And they might even expect that in the current climate of economic despair that my special bundle of skills would be a particularly hot commodity. Well, to a certain degree, this is true. There is a lot of demand for ass kicking and head thumping out there, to be sure. What my optimistic reader hasn’t considered, however, is how damn hard it is to run a business! So damn hard in fact that the Mlyno might have to make a change of venue.
Let’s be clear: I eat, breath, and dream thuggery. It is my life, and I do it well. The upside is that, in this asshole of an economy, there are plenty of people wallowing in sadness or attempting to struggle for their rights, who need a good thrashing; and, luckily for me, there are plenty of rich folk pissed off by these lowlifes, and they are more than willing to pay good money for my special brand of skull cracking. Just the other day, for example, I had the pleasure of tossing a deadbeat mother of two out of one of my client’s many rental properties. And yes, dear reader, there are some real perks. There isn’t much in this world that beats the sound of fragile memorabilia and valued family mementos shattering against the sidewalk at 0500. The icing on the cake was the little girl crying as I gutted her favorite stuffed animal with my trusted Lucinda. Sure, the teddy bear shredding wasn’t specified in the contract, but I believe a job is only worth doing if you do it right. Call me old fashioned.
While evictions and targeted assaults are my bread and butter, I also specialize in strike busting and shop floor discipline. Just recently, I broke in a new truncheon I got for my birthday on a couple of suspected organizers, and a cabby who asked for his fare with a little too much attitude. Not too long ago, I single-handedly dispersed a teacher’s union picket line with a homemade pepper spray broadcaster that I rigged to my loyal Jeep. After I soaked the vanguard with some high-powered bear mace, the rest of the pussies pretty much fled in terror. For good measure, I chased down one of the slower schoolmarms and softened her ribs pretty good. But that’s the kind of attention to detail you can expect on a Thugco job.
All of this, of course, is the bright side - the reason I fell in love with the work. The darker side is the damn paper work! I hate paper work! Every job has to be itemized, and all of my charges justified or the clients would make a stink about it. Well, the Mlyno doesn’t work that way. I’m as off-the-cuff as I am off-the-road. I improvise, damn it. My plans change constantly. And I need this kind of freedom to work my brutal magic. My clients often fail to appreciate this, and instead fixate on the massive added costs I usually incur in the process of expressing my thug brilliance. Sometimes throwing someone through a window (defenestrating is the industry term) isn’t enough; to get that real Hollywood feel it needs to be a wall sized picture window that will shatter in a cascade of shards that swarm the limp airborne body like crystal bees. But the finer points of my art such as this often lead to arguments with my dumbass clients. When they won’t listen, I am forced to give them a good thrashing also. After this, the money I strip from their quivering and battered frame is pretty much all that I can expect since the incident will likely sour communication. This makes it hard to do business. So the long and short: I need a job.