someone figured out where his body came from. As long as there was no one around, the police would find the cocaine he had just purchased and figure he was so coked up that he thought he could fly.
I made sure to walk a few miles away from the scene before grabbing a bus back home. I don't know if it was the exercise I got during the day or the satisfaction of a job well done but I had the most sound sleep I've had in years.
The next morning I awoke with the vigor and passion that had been missing in my life. I felt an extra motivation during my morning exercise routine, my new career path meant I would need to be in peak possible shape.
I could barely contain myself as I scrounged through my old clothes to find an outfit suitably grungy for my next mission. I finally found an old wool toque, a ragged sweater, and holey jeans. I looked myself over in the full length mirror. As long as no one looked too closely I could pass as a young hipster.
It seemed like I hung out forever in front of the coffee shop waiting for my victim but looking at my phone I saw it was just 15 minutes. I waited for him to go through his morning routine. When I knew he was deep into the paper, I sprung my plan into action.
I walked by his table and in a smooth practiced motion I dropped the little pill I made from my old art supplies into his tomato juice. I was so smooth no one noticed a thing.
I grabbed a bus to the hospital to wait for my victim.
It was surprisingly easy to grab a pair of scrubs from the laundry basket and once I changed into them I was effectively invisible. I could wander around the ER and no one would notice me. I just had to wait for someone to be admitted for having blood in their urine. Once I saw that I knew it was my guy.
Most people after being given Methyl red and seeing it turn their urine red will call their doctor and schedule an appointment within a few days. Not Arthur O'Neal Esq. He was such a hypochondriac that it was straight to the ER to have it checked out. That gave me my opportunity to strike.
I watched as the nurse took him into the exam room and waited until she left. I causally walked in.
“Hi Arthur.” I smiled.
“Hi doc.” He got a puzzled look on his face, “Don't I know you?”
“You should recognize me, Arthur, you spent enough time destroying my testimony.”
“Doug, you're a nurse now?”
“Not quite, I'm unemployed.” I grinned.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Do you realize how many lives are destroyed by the company's disregard for the rules? Something they'd have a hard time getting away with if you weren't around to shelter them.”
“I'm just doing my job.”
“Your job for Mr. Beals. You've got a big mouth, and you made a deal with Beals so you could use that big mouth for fortune and fame. That made you become a lawyer, a crooked one. But today that comes to an end.”
Before he could reply I reached over and put him in a headlock. I pulled out the forceps I had snagged earlier and grabbed a cotton ball out of the bowl on the doctors desk. I inserted it deep inside his left nostril, followed by another into his right nostril. Repeating until I was sure no air could get through his nose.
I grabbed the bowl and threw him to the ground. I placed my knee on his chest so he couldn't move. I held a cotton ball on his lips. When he tried to breath I dropped it in his mouth, he coughed it out immediately.
“You can't do that forever, Arthur.” I looked into his panicked eyes. “I'm going to drop another one in your mouth, but this time I'll hold your mouth shut. You'll have to breath it in or swallow it. If you swallow enough I'll need to use the forceps again. Your best bet is to see how long you can hold your breath. You might hold out until the doctor gets here, but you know how they like to keep you waiting. I've always known you were full of hot air. You'd better hope I was right.”
It was a great delight watching Arthur try to hold his breath. He must have lasted nearly two minutes before he couldn't hold out any longer and exhaled a huge breath of carbon dioxide. When he tried to inhale I dropped the cotton ball and clamped his mouth shut.
He struggled like crazy, part voluntary as he tried to break free and part involuntary as his body wanted to cough to get rid of the cotton ball in his throat but my grip on his mouth and the lack of air in his lungs made that impossible.
After a minute of struggling he went limp and I released one hand and grabbed another cotton ball. Holding it over his mouth I let go of his jaw completely.
He gave a weak cough, not strong enough to dislodge the cotton ball and tried to breath in. I dropped the second cotton ball in his mouth and clamped it shut. His body convulsed a bit and then calmed down. I was sure the two cotton balls were deep in his throat, so I released his mouth and just started putting cotton balls in by the handful.
His eyes stayed open the entire time and I felt great joy in watching the horror on his face. But all good things must come to an end and when I saw his lips turn blue and he gave one last weak convulsion I knew my fun was over, for now.
No one noticed me causally walk out the front entrance with a huge smile on my face. To everyone in the hospital I was just a pair of scrubs.
I was in a state of total relaxation as I rummaged through my closets looking for my old tux. It would be necessary for my smallest and most important target yet.
When I looked over the Beals' files of the people I knew, I was mostly struck by how petty they were when they made deals with him. Gloria Vanderstool was in a class by herself. She had a lust for raw power and would give anything for that, and when Beals got her into the position of Vice-President of the mortgage division she had that power.
Slipping into the party at her mansion was incredibly easy. With my tux everyone thought I was part of the catering staff. Even the catering staff thought I was just a new guy. I hung out with the waiters until I could slip away and start my plan. As the rest of the catering staff toiled away in the main kitchen, I made my special meal in the smaller family kitchen.
I had to sneak into the main kitchen to get a box of arugula lettuce, the largest covered serving platter in the mansion, and a serving cart. No one paid any attention to me. While the meal cooked I made a lovely Lemon Garlic Vinaigrette, even though the guests probably wouldn't even taste it.
As the guests ate their entrées my heart was nearly bursting through my chest, I couldn't wait to see Gloria's face when I presented my dish to her.
They finally finished and I wheeled my cart in and stopped it right in front of Gloria's seat at the head of the table. I pulled off the cover and kept all emotion off my face as the conversation stopped.
All eyes in the room were glued to Gloria's baby on the silver platter. Lightly roasted on a bed of lettuce with an excellent Lemon Garlic Vinaigrette coating. The baby was Mr. Beals payment for Gloria's position and I'm sure the shock on her face had as much to do with knowing that Mr. Beals would be paying her a visit, as having her six month old baby boy presented to her in this manner.
“I'll inform the chef of your displeasure,” I said in my stuffiest tone and exited the dinning room. By the time the guests had gotten over their shock I was out the side door and in a new Porsche whose keys I had taken from the valet stand earlier.
It was a few hours before I got home as I needed to ditch the Porsche and take the bus. When I opened the door Mr. Beals was waiting for me.
“You've made your point,” he said without any pleasantries. “If you want negotiate, I'm ready to negotiate.”
“I'm not,” I walked passed him and sat down on the couch, putting my feet up on the coffee table.
“What do you mean you're not?”
“Just what it sounds like, I've decided on a new career. I've got you to thank for that.”
“If you think your activities have hurt me you're wrong.”
I smiled and slowly said, “They obviously hurt you or you wouldn't be here looking to make a deal. How much I can't say, but I do know I've become a major irritant to you. Of the hund
red names you left here I've hit four. Within a few months I'll work through the rest of the list.”
“Go ahead, I've got plenty more.”
“In those months I'll get a pretty good handle on who you recruit. I'll be able to figure out my own lists. That will put pressure on you to close deals, in order to compensate for the ones I take away from you. Right now it's a buyers market and you get souls pretty cheap. I'll make sure that you'll have to work harder to close your deals. That means it will become a sellers market, and people will sense that when they deal with you. Your job just became a lot harder.”
“I will personally delight in placing your soul in the deepest pit of hell!” Beals screamed.
“When you look down you will see me smiling back up at you, satisfied that you took your best shot at me and I not only survived, I conquered. Face it Beelzebub you lost.”
“Maybe this round, but I've got all eternity to get my revenge.”
“Not for a while.” I smiled and waved him toward the door, “If you'll excuse me I've got places to go and people to kill.”
“We'll meet again and you won't be so lucky.”
“That we will, I'll see you in hell.”
He left in a huge cloud of smoke, the smell of sulfur filled the room, but all I could smell was the sweet scent of victory.
# # #
About the Author
Darrell B. Nelson is a former Securities Broker and Insurance Agent who has decided to use the total meltdown of his former industry as an opportunity to pursue a writing career.
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