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This week: Write a short story in which you are the villain.

Everybody loves chocolate. At least, that’s what I was counting on.

It wasn’t fair. I was passed over, yet again, for the supervisor position. At first I was angry with Rachel and then Carl, for getting the job that should have been mine. I had been the one to take all, not just a few, but all, of the management courses suggested by Douglas. And I had been invited to Douglas’s country house for brunch on three occasions, which was two more than Carl had. But now for the second time Douglas had chosen someone other than me. It just wasn’t fair. What else could I do?

Then I realized it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with me. And Douglas. He didn’t think I had what it took to manage the team. He often teased me about “getting in touch with my inner bitch” and then pointing out I didn’t have one. But I did. He would see.

Over the years I’d come to know Douglas, his desires, his weaknesses. And while these were many, the greatest of them was chocolate. Bars, drinks, ice cream, cakes – all of it, all chocolate. Milk, dark, didn’t matter. There was always a stash in his desk, always a chocolate dessert ordered after lunch, always chocolate cookies requested when I ordered lunch for the team. Chocolate was the key and it would be my ticket to revenge.

I didn’t want to kill him. I’m not a monster. I just wanted him to hurt a little. Or a lot. And I wanted him to know it was me who engineered the whole thing, me who finally found my inner bitch and set her free.

You see, besides chocolate, there was another great fallibility inherent in Douglas’s makeup: he was highly allergic to nuts. One brazil nut could kill him. Even almond extract made him nauseous. He always bought nut-safe sweets to ensure no contact with the deadly things. And my present to him would be the same expensive, guaranteed nut-safe confections. Except they wouldn’t be. Safe, that is.

I purchased a two-pound box of the finest nut-safe chocolates I could afford. I didn’t need to eat that week. I carefully used a super sharp knife to remove the packaging. It was crucial that the box appear pristine. Using a “borrowed” syringe I carefully injected each chocolate with just a drop of peanut oil. Just enough to make him sick. Or at least that was my plan.

How could I have known he was incredibly stressed out that week? That he had run out of his favorite stash of candy? That his weekly delivery of sweets had been cancelled by his wife, who was trying to get him to diet? I couldn’t have known all of those things, so this is not my fault. I thought he would eat one or two of the chocolates, you’ve got to believe me. And they would make him sick and I would drive him to the hospital and he would get better. Then I would tell him what I had done, as I was passing him my resignation letter. I didn’t plan this, you’ve got to understand that!! Who eats a two pound box of chocolates in one sitting?

And it was at that point that I burst into tears and put my head on my arms on the table. The room was hot and I hadn’t had anything to drink in a long time. The officer said, “Thank you Heather, for telling us the truth. Murder may not have been your intention, but unfortunately for you it was the result of your actions. Your lawyer is here now and she will explain what will happen to you in the lead up to the trial.”

Next week: A bad situation that turned out for the best.

This is the latest exercise in my 642 Things to Write About Project. Click on the link to find out more, or click on the category 642 Things to Write About Project to read past exercises.  🙂