Living there had been poisonous since Dad’s previous springtime affair. The man proclaimed, “You’re on your own now, buddy. Don’t want ya here no more.” Sam was kicked out precisely one day after high school graduation.
The escape planned before taking the old wagon with his name down the side in pilfered spray paint, Sam drove by blaring the horn long enough for them to embark on the porch to spy his handiwork.
The couple retrieved his father’s trailer later that night from a county line gully, with all four tires flat but glowing letters illuminating it in the dark.
100-word Challenge: poison
My training from binge-watching the entire Breaking Bad series taught me how poisoning was the best way to accomplish a quick and lethal goal of euthanasia. The instructions were simple enough — wait until his head is turned and slip ’em a Mickey. A roofie. Spanish fly. No matter the moniker, putting something in someone’s drink would flat out poison him.
It was a dirty trick to play on him for a dirty purpose, and I had to find a way to make it work.
With the simplest effort, I pointed toward the door and inquired excitedly, “Who’s that?” He shifted to look, and I quickly deposited the drug. Shaking my head when he turned back dumbfounded, I said, “Never mind, wrong guy.”
He slammed the shot I’d bought him, the stupid git, and a sinister grimace settled on my face.
*This post was prompted by quick and lethal at Studio 30+ (<150 words) via an original post by Tara.
image: Mikyl on Flickr
Filed under fiction, writing