The Tale of Roderick Smitty

The thousand pardons did I give of Roderick Smitty; his rage, I bore as best I could, but when he ventured upon betrayal, I vowed revenge.  His “harmless” antics, they were rash, his rage, though, it was devastating.  Many a time had I fallen prey to his mighty hand and many a time, my silent curses escaped my heart, but not my lips.  But revenge? It is a dish best served cold, and cold it was indeed that frost-ridded winter day three years thereafter.  The vengeance would be swift, its power, nonetheless, great, and it had no chance of failure.  1

I am a sane man.  How else could it have been so swift, my revenge.  How could it have been so well planned, so accurately and carefully executed?  To label me insane for my actions? For my current state (if one would venture to label it as a “state”)?  I am completely sane my friend.  There were simply…complications that arose in the execution of the master plan.2

It was a bitter and windy December evening, the twilight had just ventured to descend itself upon the town.  It was at that very span of no more than twelve minutes where sight is most inhibited that I would execute the plan.  When the sun had finally set, there would be twelve solid minutes of twilight, that time where it is neither night nor day, that time when the sky was too dark to see with the naked eye, yet too light for any streetlamp to illuminate the arena.  None else would see.  This was the time where sight was most inhibited and this was the time in which my master plan was put into motion.3

And there I waited on the corner.  I knew this corner well, for I had planted myself there every day for two months in order to meet Roderick at night.  Why, you ask? It is purely tactical in nature, if I did the same thing every night for an extended period of time, it would come as second nature to all the people of the town that I would do just as such.  None would be suspicious of me committing a murder if I made this a habit.  And habit I made.  4

There on the corner, I chanced to lay my eyes on the form of Roderick Smitty.  He swayed with a drunken air, just as I had anticipated.  How did I know? Because I had caused a few problems to him this week that I knew he would respond to by drinking them away on this exact day of Friday.  Very well planned.5

I immediately approached him and took a firm grasp on his hand, shaking it up and down.  I struggled to my highest degree to force a formal smile, hiding away that maniacal smile which was forcing its way upon mine lips.  6

I beckoned him follow me into the back door of my establishment.  My flesh tingled as my vengeance was near passing.  The means for my revenge were upon the table.  A simple death was in store for Roderick, just a drink of poison, but the effects of this poison were more than complex—and painful.7

It was made of the leaf of the Ktulu plant of the Amazon.  The natives of the land viewed it with fear for the effects upon ingestion were horrendous and cruel.  Alas, cruelty was exactly what I wanted to achieve.8

I beckoned my prey to sit down with me at the table.  I had conveniently placed two glasses of water on the table, one mine, and one, the poisoned beverage where Roderick was seated.  I knew he was thirsty for I had taken great care to make sure that he did not get a drink for the whole of the day until his drunken episode.  He was very thirsty.9

“Do you mind,” his speech was slurred from the alcohol, “if I have a sip of this water.  I’m parched.”  10

I relished these words as I knew victory was at hand.  A stifled, “Of course, sir,” was all I could manage to choke out.11

He dropped his suitcase onto the ground, starring at it.  Its falling seemed to greatly concern him, so I ducked down to pick it up.  When I arose, suitcase in hand, I witnessed him pick up his glass and drink of its contents.  Some of the poison dribbled down his chin and beaded there as he drank sloppily of the toxin.12

A smile crossed my face.  “Cheers!” I said, this was all I could choke out as I drank of my own glass victoriously.  13

It was only after I had finished my drink that I realized that something was wrong.  The poison’s effect should have hit Roderick by now, but alas, I was startled to see a rather large grin on his face.  Then, I began to feel the effects of the poison in my stomach…14

With the force of a megaton bomb, the realization finally hit me that I had drunk of the wrong glass.  I had ingested the poison.  Roderick’s expression told all, he had switched the glasses as I bent down to pick-up his suitcase.  In my excitement over my impending victory, I had forgotten to keep my eyes on which glass I was giving to Roderick.  Roderick, not as drunk as I had thought, now stood over me, laughing as the poison finally took effect.15

With that, I began to heave and vomit, splattering my internal organs out upon the floor.  The last sight I ever had was the face of Roderick Smitty, he was laughing16