Chapter 2: Kill them with kindness

Michaels drive into work sparks internal commentary. Who doesnt like a mural of a coffee mug made out of blood?

Chapter 2: Kill them with kindness

Waking up in the morning is always a challenge.  I sleep like a baby all through the night and if I could I would sleep through the day.  The alarm goes off on cue and quickly registers with the section of my brain that delegates sound and instructs my body to begin the morning tango.  I wiggle my way out of the warm embrace of the comforter being sure not to disturb the sleeping felines and girlfriend who shares the bed.  I stagger over to the clock and click off the alarm in mid roar. I disrobe and jump into the shower to wash off the sleep induced coma that had hold of me for the last eight hours. My morning routine is the same each day.  After showering, I dress in the clothes that I picked out the night before.  Today, I slip on a dark brown pair of slacks and button up a grey long sleeve dress shirt.  The sleeves show wrinkles and my pants have not been pressed since they came home from the store.  What is the point of ironing anything if they will be all wrinkled by the time I get to work?

I finish up in the bathroom and make my way to the kitchen.  I try to be as quite as possible as I slowly make my way through the pitch black house until I round the corner to the living room and turn on the lights.  Glorious, wonderful, LIGHT!  I make my way into the kitchen and dish out food for the cats when they wake up.  I make myself a quick lunch and pack it all away in my pack.

Sitting down at the table with a bowl of cereal I open up my laptop to check my email. 

“Viagra, weight loss supplement, porn, porn and more porn.” I say out loud. “I want to know who put me on the email lists for these things.” I mutter as I guide a spoon full of cereal flakes into my mouth.

I finish my cereal and check the weather before I shut down my computer.  “Looks like it will be a nice day. Fifty degrees and no chance of rain.”  I finish off my morning ritual by brushing my teeth and saying goodbye to my girlfriend.  “Love you, have a great day.” I whisper as I leave the bedroom.  I know she can’t hear me but it is something I have always done.

I walk to the garage and strap my pack down to the passenger seat of my Triumph. I grab my riding jacket and put in on over top of my work shirt.  I turn on the bike and let it to warm up while I put on the rest of my gear. Opening the garage door lets in a blast of cool air and I feel the chill settle onto my skin.  Securing the helmet strap under my skin I mount my motorbike and hold in the clutch.  I ease the bike out of the garage and hit the sensor on my right to close the door behind me. 

My commute to work is not long and rarely do I get stuck in traffic.  However, today the traffic fairy seems to have a change of heart.  As soon as I turn onto I-64 towards Virginia Beach a wall of cars materialize in front of me and I come to an immediate stop.  Poking my head around the truck directly in front of me offers no explanation why a large volume of sleep deprived, caffeine infused creatures are congregated on this motionless slab of concrete.   I concede in my effort to identify the cause of the delay after realizing the only thing I will achieve is a sore neck.

A quick glance to my right reveals a woman in her late thirties behind the wheel of an old model blue van.  Oblivious to her surroundings, the woman is dipped forward in what looks like an attempt to train her back muscles for an upcoming hunchback competition.  Her face is illuminated by a light blue backlight and her fingers are vigorously typing out a message on her cell phone.  Traffic begins to creep forward at a slow pace as cars shuffle and change lanes.  The woman in the blue van eases off the brake and glances up with enough time to not hit the car in front of her. 

“How considerate of you.” I mumble inside my helmet.  “It is nice to know that your brain is at some level trying to keep you alive.  Although, I really don’t see the point.”

I have always found it difficult to appreciate the sacredness of human life if the person occupying the body is determined to be so reckless.  Driving a car and texting are two very separate motor skills and the combination will at some point result in death.  “Perhaps I should expedite the process and help this young woman to an early grave”. 

I give my head a shake and clear the thought from my mind.  “That is a very tempting proposition.” I think to myself “But I think I will pass.”  Traffic begins to move and everyone races down the interstate well above the posted speed limit.  I finally pull up in front of my building and park my bike at the far corner of the lot.  The morning mash up has put me behind 15 minutes and for once I am not the first person at work.

I swing my leg around the bike and pull off my helmet.  The air is cold and I can see my breath as I exhale.  I walk towards the front door and I can see a couple people through the window of the break room.  I walk up to the door and swipe my badge in front of the electronic lock.  The door clicks and I push down on the handle and pull the door open.  An immediate blast of heat rushes out the door and smacks me in the face.  I push inside as the heat radiates up my body causing my face to flush and my eyes to water. 

“Who the hell turned the heat up so high?” I call out “We don’t live in the f*****g Antarctic.” There is no immediate response so I continue forward and round the hall to the break room.  Inside huddled around a slowly dripping coffee pot are 3 of my coworkers.  Dave looks up slowly rotating his head to align his eyes with mine.

“Good morning, Michael!  Would you like a cup of coffee? Dave asks as the last words trail off into a shiver.  

“Who could drink coffee when it feels like a sauna in here?”  I respond in a sarcastic tone that was completely lost on my 3 mildly retarded coworkers. I spin around and leave the break room before I feel an urge to gouge out Dave’s eyes. 

Walking through the hallway towards the section of building that houses my cubical I see the thermostat on the wall.  As I lean forward to read the display a steady stream of sweat rolls down the left side of my face.  The green LCD display reads 91 degrees.  I dial down the thermostat to a reasonable temperature and wipe the sweat from my face with the back of my hand.  Posted on the wall above the thermostat is a note outlined in vibrant yellow ink.  “DO NOT adjust the thermostat temperature setting (76 Degrees).”

I continue walking to my little section of heaven in the back corner of the building scanning my badge as I pass through each door. My mind wonders as I follow the maze of cubicles trying to suppress the overwhelming desire to run back and smash Dave’s head into the coffee machine.  The bloody, mushy mess that would spread across the break room would be a warranted defense against the heat assault that my body has been exposed to.

I make it to my cubical without a detour to the break room.  I set down my pack and take off all of my riding gear.  As I am putting my jacket on a hanger Phill knocks on my door. 

“Did you kill anyone on your way in this morning?”  Phill asked as a smile grew across his face.

“No, but it was very tempting.  Dave’s blood would have made a nice mural on the break room wall.” I said with a hint of enthusiasm.  I finished hanging up my jacket and turned around to face Phill.  Phill is a tall, skinny guy in his early thirties with close cropped hair.  His face is always clean shaven and has a casual style that matches his personality.  Together Phill and I work in the IT department as part of a team working on networking components for one of the Navy’s new planes. The first day I started with the department Phill showed me around and we have been good friends ever since.

“If you could paint a picture of a coffee mug I’m pretty sure even Dave would agree that it was a masterpiece!”  Phill replied with a feisty verbal swing.

“It would be a masterpiece.” I said laughing “The only problem is the blood wouldn’t stay on the wall since it’s so f*****g hot in here.”

Phill’s smile grew wider and a single bead of sweat clung to his forehead just below his hairline. “Well, I guess your masterpiece will have to wait for another day.”

“Indeed, it will. Do we have anything on the roster for today?  I asked.

“Not at the moment.  Just keep working on whatever you have and I am sure we will see something in a couple of hours.”

“Sounds good, I will finish working on the color pallet for my masterpiece.”  I said with a smirk.

“That shouldn’t be very hard.  Remember; if you’re going to kill someone make sure you kill them with kindness!” Phill said as he walked out of my cube.

“That takes all of the fun out of it” I responded in a soft shout as Phill’s footsteps faded into cube-land.

The day was uneventful and I spent most of my time reading over pointless company emails as they arrived in my inbox. One of the perks of waking up at the a*s crack of dawn is that I get to leave work a little earlier than most other people.  I gathered up all of my gear and walked out of the building just as the clock ticked past 3PM.