Free Collected Kill: Volume 2 by Patrick Kill

THE DAY MR. LANGFORD CRACKED

    Through days of destruction and violence, it is common to only see demons and death and every other societal horror which cuts into the nerves as well as the soul, but Mr. Langford dreamed away from the mess of life, always remembering God’s love and His eternity which awaited him.  He looked to see pieces of heaven around him, vague little reminders of what was to come.  But, even on the most blessed of all days, the symbols seemed to be fading.   Mr. Langford rose from bed and yawned.  He shuffled to the window and glanced at the row of white, two-story houses which lined the roadway as far as he could see.   Such a beautiful world , he thought, such a lovely time to be alive!
    He descended the stairs and whispered “Good morning” to his wife nestled on the couch.  He looked over at his brother, drunk and naked beside her.  He shook his head.   It’s not love, so it doesn’t matter.
    After inhaling a bagel, he grabbed his briefcase and headed out the door.  To the side of the house, he scanned the empty space, envisioning a giant pool.  As his mind drifted, he saw his children on a hot summer day splashing and diving into cool blue waters as his wife’s shapely body lay across the patio sporting that yellow two-piece.  He smiled, took a deep breath and realized this could be the day he finally got that bonus.  And the pool could be just weeks away.
    The morning commute to work was a refreshing time for Mr. Langford.  He cherished the dawn, the fresh morning air preparing him for the day ahead.  But after a block of road construction, three detours and a mile long traffic jam, he pulled into the parking garage, feeling bitterly distressed.  It wasn’t just the old lady who had flipped him off in rush hour traffic, but the entire mood of everyone on the highway.  Horns blared, gun shots echoed following waves of shouting and cursing.  It almost seemed as if there was some mad virus carried by the wind, infecting everyone on the road.  
    Mr. Langford tried to shake the recollection from his mind.  He looked away to the blue skies and watched birds glide gracefully overhead.  A sudden tranquility swept over him, his body relaxed.
    Mr. Carlson greeted him at the door to his office.
    “You’re late, Langford, do I have to start making you punch a time clock?”
    Mr. Langford smiled.  “I will amend my morning schedule to leave a half-hour early, sir.”
    “Fine,” Carlson said, “Do whatever it takes because I went over your advertising campaign and it stinks.”
    “Yes sir,” Mr. Langford nodded, “I’d love to revise it immediately.”
    Carlson winced.  “And while I’m here, I’ll save you a trip to my office by letting you know that I gave the promotion to Johnson and the company plans to downsize which means no bonus and everyone will have to take a fifteen percent pay cut.”
    “But—”
    “Any questions? No? Good!”
    Mr. Langford sat down, stunned and disheartened.  Throughout the morning hours, he stayed at his desk, staring at a blank sheet of paper, his creative outlet clogged.
    Bernice, the secretary, poked her head into his cubicle.  “Here’s your lunch, Mr. Langford.  And I have some messages for you.”
    “Oh, thank you, Bernice,” he said, smiling.  “You look very lovely today.”
    Bernice blushed while reading off his messages:  “Bookman called and he hates your sales pitch, the dry cleaners called and said they ruined your new suit, your mother called and said that your father had passed away, your neighbor called and said that your wife ran off with your brother and left the kids home alone, and the fire department called and said that your kids have set fire to your house.”
    “Is that all?”
    Bernice flipped through her papers.  “Oh,” she said suddenly, “I almost forgot about the man who called and said something about one of your stocks crashing.”
    “Okay, thank you.  Can you please tell Mr. Carlson that