Au Revoir, Crazy European Chick by Joe Schreiber

name?"
    "Gobija Zaksauskas."
    All remaining color drained from his face. At the same second he went absolutely rigid, the name reverberating through him visibly like a shock wave. "That's not possible. She's—"
    Gobi took hold of his shoulders, spinning him around to the music. To anyone watching, she had simply changed partners. "Hemingway was an ugly American," she murmured, "but he was right about one thing." Her automatic appeared in her right hand, wedged into the old man's stomach just above his cummerbund, where only I could see it. "This kind of luck always comes from a woman."
    "Please," the old man managed. "We can discuss this."
    Gobi shook her head, turning him again. "There is nothing to discuss."
    "I can explain. Just ... tell me who sent you. What happened was regrettable."
    " Regrettable? "
    "Arrangements can be made. I don't know who is paying you—I can make you a better offer, I assure you."
    "Can you offer me a pound of flesh?"
    The old man's eyelids fluttered, not understanding. "What?"
    "Take this." Gobi's left hand flipped out a butterfly knife. "Cut a pound of flesh from your body. You do that, and I'll let you live."
    The old man looked at the knife. He reached up slowly, his hand trembling, rheumy eyes searching for someone, somewhere, to take him away from all of this. "Please," he said. " Signorina, whoever you are, I beg you, be reasonable."
    "We're far beyond that point now."
    "But—"
    She shoved the knife deep into the center of the old man's abdomen, jerking it upward. He opened his mouth, blood spurting out over his lips, and Gobi clapped her hand over it, pressing him backwards as she yanked the blade out and wrapped a tablecloth around his waist, blocking his body from view as she let him sink to the floor. The whole thing took probably three seconds.
    "Too many Bellinis," she murmured, and wiped the knife off on the tablecloth before turning back to me. "Go get the car."

16
In one page or less, describe an impossible scenario, real or hypothetical, and how you would respond to it. (Brandeis)
     
    "Almost midnight," she said, climbing into the passenger seat. "We are ahead of schedule. Head uptown. East Eighty-Fifth Street." She turned to look at me. "What are you doing?"
    I wasn't exactly sure. I knew that I'd staggered back out to the curb with my valet ticket and gotten the car and I was behind the wheel again, but now I seemed to be frozen in place. The image of the old man dying was burned so deeply into my corneas that it eclipsed all of Fifth Avenue and Central Park, and I couldn't seem to move.
    The commotion in the bar was already spilling back out into the hotel lobby, growing louder by the second.
    "Perry, now! Go!"
    "Blood came out of his mouth," I said.
    "What?"
    "When you stabbed him. It was like he was puking blood. Like a fountain."
    "That is because I severed his abdominal aorta," she said, as emotionless as an anatomy instructor. "Now can we please get out of here?" She retrieved her BlackBerry from her bag and started tapping keys.
    I grabbed it.

17
In a moment of crisis, you have one phone call Whom do you call? (Grinnell College)
     
    The element of surprise worked in my favor, at least long enough for me to jump out of the car and run into the middle of Fifth Avenue, where I was almost hit by a limousine. I kept going, heading for the park. I didn't turn and I didn't look back, just pounding hard and fast for some other place where Gobi couldn't get me.
    The park, I thought—the park was safe. There were trees, rocks, water, none of the city elements that she'd be able to use to her favor. I had the BlackBerry in my hand and was trying to dial while I ran, which was almost impossible—but if I could hide somewhere long enough, then maybe I could call home, and the police.
    Bursting through the grass, I ran past the pond and headed straight on through the darkness. I passed a jogger and startled some ducks, sending them flapping and squawking skyward. There was a