Four months later, all this had been done. I took the babysitter route because I thought it was safest. I think I made the right move. And she even did it for five dollars-half of what I'd thought it would take. This is what happened: I asked the babysitter, whose name is Joan, if she'd retrieve the bibi gun from the range (I called first and asked permission). She agreed to do it for two bucks because it was on the way from her house to ours and thus was convenient. But I wouldn't tell her why until she produced it.

Being a responsible person, she produced it very quickly. I dutifully paid her and asked in the most straightforward possible way: "Will you shoot Joe Babylon with it for an additional three bucks?"

Of course, she is not evil, so she had some thinking to do before she acquiesced. But acquiesce she did, under the condition that she would shoot him only in the thigh, as to spare him serious injury. She agreed to the condition that I'd only pay her after the deed was done. I couldn't have been happier with the arrangement.

It took two pellets. The first missed altogether, ricocheting off the sidewalk and killing a pigeon overhead. The second she got him from her car as he walked to his front door—hit him square in the thigh. I'm sure he was bruised pretty bad, by the way she reported his pig-like squeal. Thank the good Lord she hit him. He still deserves Hell, but I've done my part.

The last time I saw Joe Babylon, he waved to me from the sidewalk. I'm sure he recognized me, as I was wearing a hat that I've always worn, have often been seen wearing, and have never seen on anyone else. I was riding my bicycle past his house, going to a little Korean-owned grocery store to buy ingredients for dinner--we were making spicy chicken and rice with okra.