Alex was certain that there was a recessive nerd gene in his parents ancestry, and that he was the unfortunate soul in which the two alleles had paired and produced what he saw in the mirror - pure nerd! He eyed himself with disdain, sticky out ears, goofy teeth, acne and that damned kinky hair permanently charged with static.
He didn't mind having a wonderful mind, but minded very much the way he looked. No wonder he was the butt of jokes and his life was pure misery. That bastard Wilson was the worst - with his athletic good looks, his entourage of hangers on and his constant supply of girlfriends. Bastard!
Wilson had nominated Alex his gofer years ago and Alex had accepted his role as he hadn't the strength of character to resist. His life was sheer hell. The latest prank had seen Wilson dose his drink with methyline blue "Here gofer - a Blue Hawaiian for you!" Alex had drunk it readily hoping at last that he might have been accepted as one of the boys.
Next day had seen Wilson and his cronies follow him into the *bog and crease themselves laughing as blue-green pee gushed forth leaving Alex mortified. Second visit - it seemed like the whole school followed him and the chants, the crushing chants of "Alex! Alex! Mouldy phallus!" reduced him to tears. He had wished the earth to swallow him up.
It was that very afternoon in Greek and the discussion of the death of Socrates that an idea began to germinate in his mind.
That night he received the expected call from Wilson and the order for pizzas. Wilson and his cronies partied nearly every night in his brothers' penthouse; Alex, the manservant for the drunken, stoned bastards.
He already had the pizzas and had doctored them with conium - the little florets vaguely resembling broccoli and added more cheese and seasoning to mask the taste. Upon Wilson's call he had reheated and reboxed them.
They greeted him with derision and snatched the boxes off him. He sat and waited until the ascending paralysis played its game. They found it funny as they fell and were ecstatic about the 'good trip' - and then panic set in. As they fought for breath, one or two of them attempted to phone 999 and with great glee, Alex prevented them.
When they were all dead, Alex picked from his pocket the fat cigar he had bought at the kiosk outside and went out to the roof garden. The cigar made him cough and splutter - but he didn't care.
He flung the cigar stub over the parapet and watched it fall... and then he followed it.
The exhilaration he felt from the adrenaline rush was amazing and he was certain that if he attempted to fly - he could. He didn't want to - he wanted to splat another damn Wilson as he hit terra firma. He knew he would - because the world was full of them.
Copyright ©2011 Anna. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce in any form, including electronic, without the author’s express permission.
This story was originally published on the puzzelicious plus site on May 19, 2011.
If you like this story, check out Anna’s other stories, published on this site: Compulsion, Industry and Simkins.
I'm a mother, friend, nurse, wife and lover! I think I have always been 'creative' drawing, painting, writing stories and poetry from an early age. I am moronically happy as I don't see the point in being miserable and find life - 99% of the time - wonderful.