Things were turning out okay.
Jeff had gotten new glasses (the inefficient kind, without frames), so I took the opportunity to get some new ones of my own. The government recently published some new information reporting that inefficiency could be contracted through eye contact, and I think Jeff was starting to notice that I was avoiding looking him in the eye (he mentioned something when I started looking around the corners of my house with hand mirrors). The new pair I bought was complete with government-issued Jeff Reflective coating. It was expensive, sure, but my health and efficiency were worth it.
My plan was working perfectly. Every week Jeff went to visit the other Jeff in a warehouse just outside of town, and I tracked him every time with a locator in his shoe.
During one of the meetings I made a call from the house to a certified JeffFree purveyor of firearms. The purchase was going to be quite expensive until I told him what I was planning on using my item of choice for; in the end, he offered me the gun for free, his only condition that I not come to the shop but rather that he stash it in the trunk of my car in a few days ("can't be too careful these days," he explained, "what with all the Jeff spies been runnin' around"). I agreed it was for the best.
Finally, the day came. It was a Saturday evening in November, I remember - a little chilly, dark by 5:45. I pulled my government-issued outer garment close against me as I snuck from my car to the building I now knew Jeff to be in. I pushed open the door. It squeaked.
I moved slowly.
The warehouse was large and dark, lit only by the small amount of moonlight that was able to struggle through the grimy paned windows. The primary feature in the space seemed to be large wooden crates. A metal catwalk was hung from the ceiling, connected to an upper level door. A crack of incandescent light streamed out from the crack under the door.
I climbed up the rusty ladder, cursing every tiny noise my feet made against the iron. Once up on the catwalk I crawled, maneuvering slowly towards the slit of light that seemed my only hint as to the Jeff's location.
Faint voices emanated from under the door. They sounded Jeff-Like.
"Oh man, this whole 'against the Jeffs' thing is getting a little ridiculous. How are people falling for this?"
Yes, definitely Jeff-Like.
I pulled out my gun and kicked open the door and there they were, sitting in a small table in a small room and looking small themselves and so thoroughly at my mercy. Unfortunately for them, I wasn't feeling merciful. The fear in their eyes was instant and for that I was grateful - I wanted them to be scared.
I stepped into the room slowly, my gun leveled, my finger poised.
"No long speeches," I said, "no melodrama. This ends here."
I pulled the trigger.
Appropriately enough, this picture was taken by Jeff B. I think it sort of fits with the post, and I also quite like the photo in and of itself.
There will be one more installment of this story.