The Housewife Assassin's Killer Christmas Tips Read Online Free PDF Page A

any Grinches who wish you and yours harm under a sheet of ice.
    And guess what? Since a body's temperature will drop much more slowly if it’s been exposed to extreme cold, you’ll have plenty of time to get away before the snow has melted and any bodies are found. You’ll undoubtedly be long gone before anyone can determine when rigor mortis set in.
     

     
    The parking lot of Toylandia is deserted. It’s not in a great neighborhood. Nor is it in a strip center around other stores.
    Still, it’s got what I need. “Okay, everyone out,” I say to the kids.
    “No way! This place looks creepy,” Cheever whines.
    “Don’t worry. We won’t be here long. I’m running in and out, so stay close to me, and no wandering off.”
    They grumble as they exchange glances and trudge reluctantly into the store.
    The place is small and dark. With the holidays upon us, you’d think the aisles would be bulging with toys, but no. It’s as if the Grinch has stolen this neighborhood’s Christmas. Because of its price tag, the one Furby left in the store is under lock and key in a glass case, and the only clerk has to be nudged out of his nap in order to unlock it.
    Cheever plucks a box off an open shelf. “ Seriously? Super Nintendo? This is so last century.” He tosses it back, with a frown.
    The clerk’s eyes narrow. “Haven’t you ever heard of vintage, you little shit?”
    Cheever glowers back at him, but thank goodness, he waits until the clerk has ducked behind the counter to unlock the Furby cabinet before shooting him a bird. The last thing I need is for that little brat to get me thrown out of here before I can buy the last Furby left in the store—a Voodoo Purple.
    Thank God I got here in time! “Let’s do it,” I say to my gang.
    By the time the clerk has rung it up, Mary and Trevor are somewhere deep in the store’s maze of aisles. They won’t get far. Reconnaissance is second nature to me. By using my iPhone to tap into the security cameras, I break the code and secure all the exits.
    Nope, it’s not a spy toy, but momware. These days, there’s an app for everything.
    I pull them out of their lip lock, and drag them out the front door and toward the car. Morton, Cheever and Jeff trail behind, snickering.
    Mary’s raging hormones notwithstanding, this has been a pretty successful side trip.
    At least, that’s my opinion until I hear the click of a gun behind us. “Turn around, slowly,” a voice says.
    All of us do as requested, except for Morton, whose throat is being cradled in the crux of the arm of a bulky masked gunman holding a 9 millimeter pistol.
    A friend of the gunman is circling Mary, licking his chops and flicking a long knife. Mary looks straight ahead and tries to ignore him, but I can tell she’s as scared as I am for her.
    Morton is trembling so badly, I’m afraid he’ll wet his pants. Trevor, ever protective of his younger brother, clenches his fists. But before he can take a step forward, I say, “Here, take what I just bought, and let the child go.”
    “Hand it over, along with your purse. And those other brats need to take out their wallets, and place them, slowly, at my feet.”
    Jeff, Cheever, Mary, and Trevor look over at me, their eyes wide with fear. I nod slowly, but I keep my eyes on the gunman.
    After they drop their wallets, the gunman growls, “Now pick them up, lady, and walk them over to me, with your purse and the toy. Hope you can walk in those heels, because we’re taking the car. Maybe the girl, too.”
    I walk over slowly, toward the dude with the gun. When I’m a foot away, I offer up all the goodies. “Here you go.”
    Just when he reaches for them, I shove Morton out of the way. In his place goes my foot. My roundhouse kick has the gunman doubling over before he falls onto the asphalt. As his gun flies through the air, I catch it with one hand, and whip it around so that it’s pointed at the creep threatening my daughter.
    “If you want to keep that head