On Monday morning a thirteen year old boy named Bill Brewster was humiliated in front of his friends and the girl he had a crush on by Randy Slewinski, a schoolyard bully. Unable to mentally recover from this public humiliation, Bill vowed that he would kill Randy within a week’s passing.
The next morning Bill ate a bowl of Lucky Charms, put on his gloves and jacket (it was supposed to be a cold day), grabbed his backpack and headed for the bus stop where he would wait fifteen minutes for the big yellow school bus to pick him up. He never made past his mailbox.
For the past two weeks a child predator had been watching Bill, and his daily routines. He knew when he would leave for school, what time his parents left for work, and how long his window of opportunity was open. He was a careful man. He knew when he would strike.
The child predator went by the name of Charles Mackey. It wasn’t his actual name, but it kept him off the radar of the many over-protective parents that had moved into his neighborhood. He had once been an ice cream man that sold cones, popsicles, and various novelty toys to the youths in his old neighborhood. Charles suspected that his neighbor was catching on to him after the neighbor’s son suffered an allergic reaction to the roofie Charles had mixed into the boy’s ice cream. He left town soon after that.
Charles drove down the freeway, headed to the abandoned warehouse where he had taken many other children before. He was almost two thirds of the way there when his brains exploded all over the dashboard and windshield.
The night before, Bill had stolen his dad’s .44 Magnum from its hiding place in a shoebox at the back of his closet. Bill had intended on using it on Randy. His father bought the gun after watching Dirty Harry. That movie did wonders for the NRA.
He wouldn’t notice it was missing because he rarely checked on the gun and assumed that Bill didn’t know of it either. But he was unaware that Bill had discovered the gun that previous Christmas when he was looking in the closet for any hidden presents. In a way, he found one.
The car veered off the road and into an embankment where it flipped onto its side and slid into a tree. A few minutes later Bill crawled out of the car and threw up into a nearby bush. His ears were still ringing from the blast of the revolver.
Bill wandered down the freeway for an hour until a motorist pulled over to the side of the road and offered Bill a ride home. The motorist had a crucifix hanging from his rear view mirror, a Bible on the dash, and a guitar in the back seat. Bill hopped in.
The motorist dropped Bill off at his house twenty minutes later. Bill thanked him and went inside. He crawled under his covers and tried to fall asleep. When his mother got home Bill told her that he was feeling sick, to account for him being in bed. He didn’t want her to stress any more than she already did, which is why he lied to her. She quickly prepared him a bowl of chicken soup and then rushed off to her second shift. Bill ate the soup and fell asleep.
Bill woke up the following morning still feeling nauseated. He went to school in a state of shock, now knowing what it felt like to snuff out the life of another human being. He didn’t like how it felt. It was similar to the feeling he got when he cheated on a math test, but intensified greatly. At lunch that day, Randy knocked the tray out of his hand, spilling Bill’s food all over the floor, and took his chocolate milk carton, as he always did. Randy was asking for it now.
That night while Bill was sleeping a tow truck pulled out Charles’ truck from the embankment. The body of the child predator was discovered, the police were called. Forensics had pulled fingerprints and DNA evidence of 13 different children off of the interior of the car. But not Bill’s.
They were puzzled when they could not find the weapon that had ended Charles’ life. This was because Bill had taken it back home and replaced it in the shoe box. His dad never knew it was gone.
Finding no suspect, no murder weapon, no apparent motive, and realizing that they were dealing with a dead child predator that had no immediate family members or any apparent loved ones, the police quickly stored the body in the morgue, destroyed the car and threw out the case. Justice had already been dealt in their minds.
On Thursday afternoon Bill came home from school, once again demoralized by Randy. An hour later his mom came home from her first shift and grabbed some things from the fridge to take to work for lunch. She packed them in a bag and headed to the bus stop, where a city bus would drop her off a block away from her job.
Minutes after she stepped off of the bus a drifter had grabbed her bag and ran off. Bill’s mom didn’t chase him, because A) she was wearing heels, and B) there really wasn’t anything of value in the bag. Besides, of course, a cheesy romance novel with Fabio on the cover that she read while riding the bus.
Bill’s mom continued to work, deciding she would skip lunch today, while the thief continued running down the block. He turned the corner and ran into an alley, where he hid behind a dumpster to catch his breath. He spotted a van across the street, the door open, keys in the ignition. The thief knew this was his lucky day.
As the thief drove down Van Buren Street in the stolen van, he decided to look through the bag and see what he snatched. He reached in and felt a couple of quarters, a small book, an apple, a sandwich, and a small milk carton. Darn. This wasn’t a purse. Oh well, the thief said out loud. At least I have lunch.
Three blocks down the street Randy Slewinski was leaning over a brick wall, shooting at a dog with his pellet gun. The dog was very annoyed by now and was trying to avoid the tiny plastic pellets by hiding behind a small tree. Randy laughed as the dog cowered behind the tree, leaving its rear end exposed. He brought the pellet gun up and took aim. Suddenly he heard someone scream in the background, followed by cars honking, and the sound of a vehicle quickly headed his way. He jumped off the wall and was immediately struck by something large and white, killing him instantly.
The police discovered the body of the thief behind the wheel of the van that killed Randy Slewinski. It had crashed through the brick wall into the backyard of a shaken up elderly couple with a very happy dog. The thief was covered in vomit and his neck was broken from the impact of the crash. A small chocolate milk container had spilled its contents all over the floor and now lay sideways by the thief’s feet, slowly dripping its contents on his shoes.
Bill woke up Friday morning feeling refreshed. No longer did thoughts of revenge and murder fill his mind. He felt bad for ever wanting to kill Randy and quickly decided he would just forgive him and move on with his life. Maybe even pass Jeanette (the girl he liked) a note asking her if she liked him with the words “yes” and “no” underneath for her to circle the appropriate response.
All he had to do now was dispose of the chocolate milk carton that contained various poisonous chemicals he had mixed together the previous day and hid in the back of the fridge, hoping that nobody would touch it. Yes, today was going to be a good day for Bill, he just didn’t know it yet.