Jayson's forehead was beaded with sweat as the heat built up in the car.  He had been waiting there since 4 a.m. and the doctor was about to arrive...the one who had been responsible for so many deaths of unborn babies this year.  An almost palpable ecxtacy built in his stomach as the cool brass of a .410 shell slid home in his Remington Pump Action. 

A silver sports car arrived and the engine stopped.  Jayson stepped from the car, hiding his shotgun underneath a long black trenchcoat that was so fashionable for homicidal crazies.  He saw the doctor get out of his car wearing the same style of coat.  Eye contact was avoided.

The doctor disappeared in a side door of the building...he had momentarily missed his opportunity.  He pushed on in his quest...but he was stopped by a sign at the door which prohibited firearms inside the clinic.  He tapped on the glass.

"Hey...receptionist! Is this for real? I can't have a gun in here?"  he shouted.

"Yes sir, no firearms are allowed in the clinic.  Thank you for your patronage."

"Damn."  he seethed and turned around to leave.

Good thing for signs.  If it weren't for signs...this world would be fuckin' nuts.

PRH