Unresolved Issues
He looked slowly around the equipment room. His head turned almost in a
complete circle like a curious owl, searching for a tender meal. His
eyes locked onto each supply for a second, then sped to the next
chemical. There, propped carelessly on the top shelf, was an ordinary
drain cleaner. Such a usual base, that he had used almost everyday,
could lead to eventual death if swallowed. His blackened heart gave an
instant leap as he imagined the unthinkable. Slyly he picked up the
bottle and slipped it into his baggy back pocket. He opened the room's
door and, without a sound, floated to the bathroom where he could be alone.
He carefully snook into the men's room and locked himself in the nearest
stall. With great cation, he unscrewed the Drano lid and slowly poured
the sodium hydroxide into an open metal thermos, which he got from his
other back pocket. He replaced the Drano lid onto the bottle of liquid
death. He hid the drain cleaner in his pocket again before leaving his
stall. Guiltlessly and with pride, he walked through the hall and out
the door.
Across the street from his workplace was a bar with huge neon letters
reading: Sandy's Place-Great Beer, Great Friends, Great Moods.
He clutched the innocent-looking thermos and crossed the four lane
street with a group of blue-collared workers. He passed the workers
politely saying, "excuse me", "beautiful weather, isn't it?", "good to
see you again, Erin". He went inside Sandy's Place with intentions of
revenge.
The afternoon rush had just started. Tables and booths were filling
quickly with workers. Every tired worker was hoping to find relief from
a long, exhausting day.
His heart beat faster as he noticed his pray. There, at the counter, sat
Charlie Han, a short, fat, balding man with a greasy tank top and a
plumber's crack hanging out of his ragged denim jeans.
He strolled calmly through Sandy's Place and had a seat next to Charlie
at the counter.
"Oh, hey there, Charlie! How are you?" he asked sweetly.
"I'm fine, John. I'm a little tired from a long day," Charlie replied,
unable to stare him in the eye.
"Here's your scotch, sir," said the bartender, sliding a small shot
glass of darkly colored liquor over the counter towards Charlie.
"John, would you mind watching this while I run to the restroom?"
Charlie asked while gesturing towards his scotch.
"No, of course I wouldn't mind."
"Thanks, buddy!" Charlie eased himself off the stool and hurried towards
the restrooms.
He looked around the bar to make sure that no eyes were on him. Then
slowly, with tremendous cation, he pulled Charlie's glass towards him.
He glanced around once more. Everyone was too preoccupied with their
drinks to notice what he was doing. He knew he had to work fast before
Charlie returned. He twisted off the thermos lid and poured a few
milliliters of Drano into the half full shot glass. He moved the glass
back to its exact original position, and he put the thermos lid back on
the metal canteen.
"Would you like something to drink, sir?" asked the bartender.
He peeled his eyes away from Charlie's scotch glass and placed them on
the bartender. He stared at the bartender, his eyes like x-rays,
scanning the bartender's expressions and mood. He said nothing, but the
scared and intimidated bartender walked away to help another potential
customer.
"Thanks for watching my drink, John," said Charlie appreciatively,
putting his hand gently on his friend's back. "Would you like to join me?"
"No thanks. I just passed through here to wish you good luck, " he said
monotonously.
"Gee, thank you so much! Your good wishes mean a lot to me," Charlie
said while wiping a tear from his pudgy face.
He got up from his stool, gave Charlie a friendly pat on the back, and
left with no emotion. The minute he stepped outside of Sandy's Place, a
enormous smile blasted across his face. Within several minutes, the
Alkaline corrosive chemical would create a third degree burn in
Charlie's esophagus and mouth. Within three days, Charlie would
experience stomach pains, vomiting, drop in blood pressure, dizziness,
migraines, blurred vision, fainting, and eventually death. Only a few
milliliters of lye, a useful chemical found in everyone's house, could
eat away at flesh and cause death. He laughed the laugh of a villain as
he got into his 1993 Geo Prism. He was happy with the damage he had
caused, and, as he drove to his house, the weight had lifted off his
shoulders and his conscience was silent.
Four Days Later
He was preparing himself for a weekend of football and relaxing. He had
just sat down at the kitchen table with his loving family, when the
phone began to ring. He reluctantly walked to the kitchen counter and,
after taking his time with a long yawn, picked up the black, cordless phone.
"Good morning! John speaking," he said energetically.
"John, it's Carol. I have some horrible news," his sister-in-law said,
barely audible. "Charlie died this morning. His stomach was perforated.
I was hoping you would give a speech at his funeral next Wednesday."
"Oh my goodness. Of course I'll speak at his funeral."
"Okay, I have to go now, the doctor's calling," and with that, Carol
abruptly hung up.
He held the phone to his ear for a moment, savoring those two
long-awaited words: "Charlie died".
"Who was that, dear?" asked his wife brightly as she looked through the
newspaper.
"It was Carol. Charlie's dead," said John Han, holding back a smile.