By Andrew Ross
Gary Milner seems to think that Lawrence Bailey, Gauntlet Editor-in-Chief, is the only person he knows who might murder him. Indeed, Milner goes so far as to say that he "would be willing to bet on [himself] in a life or death sort of confrontation" with any of his friends. He is so sure of himself that he thinks, "even if they had a weapon, [Milner] could at least make a hasty retreat."
Well I’ve got news for you: you’re wrong Gary. Dead wrong.
I know we’re not the closest of friends. "Amicable co-workers" is probably a more apt description. Still, I must assume that you were including me in your brazen assessment of your survival chances. I’m not surprised that you’re not afraid of me, Gary. That’s exactly the way I want it. In fact, you’ll never suspect me… until it’s already too late.
You see Gary, in this case, what you don’t know can kill you. You don’t know that my friendly wisecracking demeanor is just a façade to hide my true scheming self. You don’t know that when I laugh at your stupid jokes, I’m really laughing at the idea of dancing on your grave. You don’t know that I have a black belt in Karate, making my hands deadly weapons. Actually, you should know this, but you probably didn’t think of it when you were making your baseless assertion of personal safety. How typical, you arrogant bastard. You don’t know that my father collects Japanese weapons, including swords. You don’t know that my deep-seated antipathy towards you grows with every breath you take, or that my deadly resolve hardens every moment your heart still beats. Most importantly, you don’t know that I’m standing behind you right now.
Do you know what time it is Gary? It’s time for you to die.
[Ben: In jest, I hope.]