My training from binge-watching the entire Breaking Bad series taught me how poisoning was the best way to accomplish a quick and lethal goal of euthanasia. The instructions were simple enough — wait until his head is turned and slip ’em a Mickey. A roofie. Spanish fly. No matter the moniker, putting something in someone’s drink would flat out poison him.
It was a dirty trick to play on him for a dirty purpose, and I had to find a way to make it work.
With the simplest effort, I pointed toward the door and inquired excitedly, “Who’s that?” He shifted to look, and I quickly deposited the drug. Shaking my head when he turned back dumbfounded, I said, “Never mind, wrong guy.”
He slammed the shot I’d bought him, the stupid git, and a sinister grimace settled on my face.
image: Mikyl on Flickr