Scrumptious Surprise Continued
This issue is causing me trouble far beyond intention. It was supposed to be a quick little murder that wasn’t going to have any negative implications. But now it has become an enormous mess of tangled lines of thought that are impossible to sort out. 99% of my brain is convinced that Samuel Kringstone must die, and I am the only person to do it. 7% of my brain is telling me that someone else will recognize his extreme stupidity and they will finish him off. And a mere 3% of my brain is telling me that he could turn out being someone worth knowing. You would think that 90% of my brain can make my decisions, but that three % still has a say in it, although I wish he didn’t. And the 3% is working alongside that 7% to tell me not to do this. Alright I’ve settled this, and I am not going to chicken out. I am going to walk in there and kill that rat of a man Samuel Kringstone. All I have to do is poor the rat poison in his coffee and be done with the man. It’s just the actual killing part I am a bit unsure about. Everything else is set though. The victim is in the kitchen waiting for a meal that has been prolonged much further then the appropriate amount of delay. The rat poison is in my pocket waiting for a chance to get into the mouth of something living to drain the life from it like pulling the plug of a bath tub. Having the water be life and the plug to the drain being our logical mind keeping us from doing something stupid and killing ourselves. And the cup of coffee also waiting to be devoured relentlessly because of its shier deliciousness is right there in front of me. It’s a real shame it has to be ruined first of all by being given to Samuel Kringstone, and second of all by being made lethal with poison. Man coffee is the best thing that ever happened to this world. And I have to give it away to a bloke like Samuel. Well, I think my brain is finally coming to an agreement with me. Killing this man is what I have to do and it is what I am going to do. Yes. I stuck my hand into my pocket revealing bottle with dead black liquid ominously sitting there undisturbed. Popping the cap off, I looked down into it sweating like an assassin in a confessional. It looked so pure although in reality it was a death potion made to kill and that was it. I poured it into the decaffeinated (as specified by Samuel) cup of steaming coffee. The poison bubbled and splashed as it mixed, and put off an odor only lasting long enough to draw a tear from my eye, then vanished back into the sweet smell of coffee I know so well. The bubbles finally came to a halt when I set the cup down in front of Samuel. He said thank you in such a way that made him look innocent. He then told me that he had taken the liberty to make me my own cup of coffee, and he pulled out a cup from underneath the table and placed it in front of me with a crooked smile.
