Catnipped
an excerpt

Zachary Abel hated his name. No matter how they lined you up in school, he was either at the beginning or the end of the line alphabetically. And it was never in his favor; he was at the end of the line for lunch and the front for oral presentations. He hated nicknames like “Zack” (which inevitably became “Zack Attack”). And Aunt Sally’s “Zackie” indirectly caused him to miss the chance to develop anything other than a cordial relationship with his cousin Matt. And so, at 15, Zachary Abel decided to pull out that rug and demand to go by his middle name: Nicholas. Only it wasn’t so shattering as he anticipated; Mrs. Skinner merely penciled “Nicholas” into her roster and continued with roll.
Nicholas kept his same friends, teased the same girls and continued skipping band practice to do all sorts of unsavory activities like eating at Waffle House. This wasn’t Extreme Makeover; he didn’t cut his hair or start wearing an earring. He just changed his name. And what’s in a name? So, after a series of boring events, some rather humorous moments and a long list of reasons for not going to college, Zachary Nicholas Abel became St. Nick, contract killer. The immediate events surrounding his plunge into this macabre business are actually quite funny. But this is not the story of how Zachary Abel became a hitman—it’s the story of how he stopped.
Now, for someone who despises nicknames, Nick didn’t mind “St. Nick” so much; he was an adult now after all and had developed what some refer to as “coping skills.” Despite this ironic title imposed upon him by his colleagues, Nick never left “presents” or mistletoes by his assignments. Though there was that incident with the Christmas tree. No, there were no big red suits or chimneys for Nick. Such shenanigans would bring too much attention to him. (Or with a sprinkle of bad luck, the police would think there was a serial killer running around loose with a vengeance for tinsel town.)