Humor DirectoryDAB…THE MIDGET HITMAN - THE LITTLE DAB WILL DO YA
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BY MARK EDGEMON
Audio: Written, Directed and Produced by Mark Edgemon.
Narrated in the voice of Verne Troyer, the midget actor in the Austin Powers movies by Robert Futterman.

Dabert was his real name, but all the mobsters called him Dab for short…because he was short…3 feet 2 ½ inches to be exact. He was so short, the other mobsters called him a smidget.

This made him mad, mostly because the other hit men took him for granted. Dab got a tattoo, started smoking cigars, shaved his head…he would have worn tough looking clothes, but he had to shop in the prenatal department.

He couldn’t join the mobster’s union, because he didn’t meet the height requirements. But he attended the meetings anyway. He could walk in without being noticed.

No one took him seriously. When he was sent to contract for a killing, the clients would laugh themselves silly. The intended victims would do the same. It is terribly embarrassing to be laughed at while you’re trying to kill somebody.

Being short did have it’s advantages. Disguising himself as an end table was easy, he would just put a tray on his head. Hiding in air conditioning ducts, until the victim was asleep would work, until the air would build up enough force against his butt and blow him through the vent.

Insult was added to injury one day, while standing on the street corner, the head of the crime family pulled over next to him in his big, black limousine. Dab thought he was offering him a ride, until the mobster got out of his car and tried to put change in him, thinking he was a parking meter. What was even worse…a stray dog hiked his leg on him, thinking he was a fire hydrant.

With urine soaked pants legs, he stiff legged walked back to his hideout and waved his pants out the window in order to dry them.

Suddenly, he saw a pretty girl walk by on the street below. He was so taken with her he forgot he was standing in his underwear, waving his pants out the window. The girl thought he was trying to get her attention and started waving back.

Dab was so embarrassed, he dropped his pants, which fell to the street right at the pretty girl’s feet. The only thing the pretty girl could see now, was a midget in his boxer shorts, waving at her from a second story window.

He darted downstairs and retrieved his pants after fighting a cocker spaniel for them.

He knew that all the regional mobsters were meeting to pick their next president. Dab got there just in time to vote.

He went down stairs to the union hall kitchen to fix himself something to eat. He found some beans and after placing them on a metal plate, he put them in the microwave and set it on high for 5 minutes.

While he was waiting for the beans to heat up, he heard footsteps in the hall above the kitchen. When he got up there, the new president of the Confederated Mobster’s Union, was shaking hands and being congratulated by each and every hit man of the region.

One of the mobsters stopped him, put a quarter in his hand and told him to feed the meter outside by his car.

Thirty seconds after he was out the door, the union hall blew sky high. The microwave had blown up, because of the metal plate and the blast ignited the gas from the stove that Dab forgot to turn off.

Yep, every hit man in the region was dead.

The news spread fast and although the police couldn’t arrest him without evidence, they knew he did it…and they were afraid of him. Mobsters everywhere were afraid of him. The public was afraid of him.

In a strange way, short people everywhere were proud of him, because he was the first of their kind to be so feared and respected.

Everywhere he went people jumped when he spoke. He was a big man in everyone’s eyes. No one made fun of him anymore. No one dared. A simple twist of fate changed everything.

After a series of terrorist attacks, the president threatened to send Dab to seek out and find the terrorists and the attacks stopped, which only strengthen his image as a powerful hit man.

Yes, after that, no one ever was short with him again…so to speak. 

Copyright © 2007 Mark Edgemon

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