The botch-it mechanic

The botch-it mechanic sits in his garage
on an oil-stained swivel chair
surrounded by Haynes manuals,
his last five minute job took just over three hours,
he'd put a screwdriver through the radiator ,
there was dirty water everywhere,
pity he didn't do it last night;
when he was trying to drown his latest hit,
a contract written by a jealous wife
who's husband was a cheat.

eventually he had to let him go,
after all,
hubby had promised not to say anything,
he could be knee-capped free;
if he kept his mouth shut, 
he didn't ,
so botch-it is looking at doing time,
a ten year stretch at least,
but he doesn't mind,
he's going to learn tattooing.