Twenty-Five Past Seven

 "He is the one who killed my son". That thought came to my mind immediately, right after the moment I saw him driving that expensiv efancy car. It was a nice sunny day, so I could see his face well. he was our friend for a long while. He found a new job about seven years ago, and he has never told us what it was; and I have never asked him about it until he killem my son. It happened five years ago and now it's time to put everything on it's place.
  I was standing on the sidewalk and watching him. I already had my simple but very effective plan. The only thing I didn't have was the information about George. He has never talked to me since the day he killed my son and it was a good thing for him not to make me more angry; but I already was. The only thing I wanted to do was to kill him: his death became the biggest and the only goal of my life. I was thinking only about that. And that sunny day when I saw him I desided the time had come.
  I came home and stsrted calling to every one who new my son and George. I was trying to find anything about him. That night I called twenty-seven damned people but didn't find anything new. But I knew, that even if I had to  spend my whole life to make my plan work I would not give up, I would finish what I started.
  The next morning I woke up with a terrible headache. I made a cup of strong coffe for myself and brought a newspaper from the mailbox. Later, that morning turned into the best morning of my life: I found an advertisement that had a name og a company, in which George was listed as a worker. I hoped they would have some information about him. The next five minutes I totally forgot about my hedache: I was talkong to the secretary of Mr. McCoin, the Presiden't of the "G.M." Company. A nice female voice kindly gave Mr. McCoin's phone number and address to his "old aunt from Delaware". That day I found out everything I needed to get to George's house and kill the killer of my son. But there were some other things I had to learn: what weapon to use and how to. I knew there was a very nice small store in our town that had been selling guns, illegaly. But I did'n care whethet they were illegal, I cared about whether the gun would shoot Goerge.
  I had been waiting five years for that day; it's a long time, but that day I couldn't  wait anymore. I took all my money I'd been saving and went to the store. I don't know why, but the view of used books in that store calmed me down, so when I asked the salesman for a revolver, I was not nervous at all. He said he didn't know what I was talking about, but when I told him the whole thing he told me to follow him. We went to a little dark room in the basement of the store. I asked him for the best revolver. It cost just a little less than I had, but I bought it though and became completely prepared for the moment I've been waiting for. I came home to make sure I had everyrhing I needed. I walked into my room and saw my dear boy's picture on the wall; I sat on my bed.
 
  I am sitting here fifteen minutes and I'm thinking of nothing but MY SON. I HAVE loved him! I have loved him more than anybody else NO MATTER what he had done... I'm thinking about how much I HATE all those people who say he deserved what he got... I HATE the day when George called and said he had killed my son! I hate everything and every one, but my son!.. I MISS HIM... I miss him SO MUCH! I don't believe in life after death and there is no reasons for me to kill myself after I shoot George because I will not meet my son anyway. Yes, I WIIL NOT meet my son EVER AGAIN! Oh God! All these thoughts make me hate George more and I DO: I HATE him with aa PASSION! But there is less than half an hour until George GETS what HE DESERVES...

  It is twenty-five past seven and it is time for me to go, because I want to come home before it gets dark outside.




 2004   Adel, IA