Tag Archives: poison

2243. A special gift

The alien craft had left to return to its own planet. The aliens had fallen in love with New York and ended up staying for a month. What a time they had! They were treated and feasted; they were toasted and entertained. It wasn’t meant to happen like that. The alien craft simply needed repairs – it was quite a simple repair but the part had to be manufactured. It was because of this that the aliens had to reveal their identity.

“We love New York!” declared the head alien before taking off. “We only wish New York was ours. We would fill it with ten million of our kinsfolk! Sadly it does not belong to us!”

“By way of thanks to New Yorkers for their extraordinary hospitality we are leaving behind a special gift. It is an exceptional vaccine that will cure all known illnesses. If you have chronic heart disease it will cure that. If you have arthritis it will cure that. If you get migraine headaches it will cure that. Gone are all allergies, every sniffle, every cough. Sadly we cannot leave enough for the entire world, even for all of America. There is enough only for New York. On a return visit we shall bring more.”

The Governor of New York expressed his thanks. The aliens departed. The Governor first gave it to his old mother and a couple of his sisters. They died. He then gave it to all the old people in the city. Old people were less likely to vote for a progressive Governor so it was sensible to use them as guinea pigs. Word got out that the vaccine killed. The Governor refused to give it to anyone else. By doing so he saved New York!

2216. Blackberry pie for Herb

Blackberry pie was Patricia’s thing. It wasn’t really blackberry pie; it was more a custard pie with a handful of blackberries scattered on top. She had made it for years, and for every occasion. Only once, when fresh or frozen blackberries were not available, had she resorted to blueberries. It was not the same. She vowed to make blackberry pie or nothing.

 Patricia’s husband Herb wasn’t overly fond of blackberry pie. He used to like it, especially in the first flushes of love, but now after quite a few years the novelty had worn thin and he craved variety. He would still eat a slice when the occasion called for it. And he knew how to pretend delight.

 It was this attribute of Herb’s that Patricia was relying on. He was sure to devour with fake enthusiasm the slice she had poisoned.

2151. Rat poison

When Gaynor went to the farm supplies shop she asked if the rat poison would kill humans.

“Goodness me!” joked the shop assistant. “Are you planning to kill your husband?”

Gaynor laughed. “Of course not,” she said. “I just want to make sure there’s no accident. I’d hate for the dog to eat it.”

“I would imagine it would kill humans,” said the shop assistant, “although I’ve never tried!”

“At least it’ll kill a rat,” said Gaynor. “We have just enough to make it a nuisance. I’ll have a packet of the blue rat-killing tablets please.”

“Now to make a blueberry pie,” thought Gaynor. “The dirty rat should love it.”

2115. The admirable psychiatrist

My thanks to each and every one of you for coming to this group session. Now that we have finished our coffee and cookies, if you would like to take a seat and we shall discuss the causes of why you are here: what is the root cause of why each of you suffers from low self-esteem? I know the course is expensive but I believe it will be worth every penny.

When someone comes to see me for therapy, it is usually clear early on if they have poor self-esteem. It shows up in their language, in how they talk about themselves, and it shows up in their non-verbal communication such as their body language.

For people such as yourselves with low self-esteem, I make it a priority to find out how the outside world valued you when you were young, and how as adults you can now determine your own value.

This can be hard and take time to achieve, so I have saved you the trouble by poisoning your coffee and cookies and none of you will ever have to worry about low self-esteem again. You, to be quite honest, are the dregs of society, and I have arranged for a garbage truck to wait at the back door and you’ll be loaded into it – at this stage dead or alive – to be taken to the town dump.

All doors, except the back door, are locked. Have a nice day and thanks for your money.

2095. Who was out to murder?

Urs was a tyrannical husband. Alice had long felt trapped in the relationship. She knew she should untangle herself from such a situation but really she didn’t know how. Her only time of peace was after the evening meal when she would take her coffee (Urs was watching the evening news) and wander down to the back of the garden where Urs kept his racing pigeons.

Urs was besotted with his pigeons. Alice found their gentle cooing both soothing and consoling.

The racing pigeons were worth a pretty packet. He would enter racing competitions with them regularly. He cared for them more than he cared for his wife.

One of his more tyrannical aspects was that Alice should prepare only healthy food. He regarded vegetable greens as a must to every meal, especially peas. “Peas are riddled with nutrients,” he would say. “That’s why they are so green.”

Alice hated peas. Part of her post-dinner evening walk was to take the peas she had hidden in her napkin and give them to the pigeons.

One early morning, Urs went down to see his pigeons and they were all dead. A veterinarian post-mortem showed that they had eaten poisoned peas.

2074. Evening classes

When Melba took evening classes in gardening it wasn’t exactly so she could learn how to pull out a weed. It was so she could devise a plan to rid herself of something noxious in her garden, namely her husband. He was more than annoying; he was a downright pest. Melba never got any rest from his bragging stupidity. For example, he couldn’t stop going on and on about the evening classes he was attending. That’s what had given Melba the idea to attend evening classes herself.

Specifically it was the section on organic weed killers that interested her. It would be a lot easier to construe death by organic weed killer as accidental. “Oh I had no idea, Officer, that that was poisonous. I thought it was an antioxidant.”

And indeed! Melba learned that a sturdy dose of toxicity would be enough to rid herself of her garden pest. Her course finished next Friday. She would perform the deadly deed on Saturday!

Her husband’s course finished on Thursday, just a day before hers, so he would be home and available for dosage.  His favourite part of his evening classes on Rifle Shooting was “How not to miss your mark”.

2044. Things are rarely what they seem

Devin didn’t think much of Travis; in fact he hated him. Devin knew he had been the topic of a school board meeting, and Travis (who was the school principal) was the one who had brought the topic up: Devin was teaching stuff in science that Travis didn’t like. Devin’s classroom had to be purged of Devin.

It was near the end of the school year. It was decided that Devin’s contract would not be renewed. Travis would inform Devin after the end of year teachers’ “party”. But somehow Devin had found out in advance.

Devin got a syringe, filled a little bottle with poison, and creeping into Travis vegetable garden at night, managed to inject all the tomatoes with the concoction. Whipty-do! All that Devin need do now was to sit around and wait for Travis and his family to kick the bucket.

Nothing happened. No one died. No one even got sick. The end of year teachers’ party was held. Devin was informed by Travis that his services were no longer required in the next academic year. Devin wasn’t sure if his seething hatred was because of the dismissal or because of the ineffective poison. He was livid. Next time he wouldn’t get it wrong. Travis was a goner.

A day later, Devin got a gun. He loaded it. He got in his car and headed for Travis’ house. He drove fast. He drove impetuously. He drove dangerously. He had an accident and was killed.

The funeral, held in the school’s gymnasium, was huge. Travis spoke of the tragic loss to the school of a good and talented teacher of science; in fact, they were naming the new science block after him.

1979. The passing of a spouse

Barbara closed Rodrigo’s eyes. It was always a bit scary when someone died with their eyes wide open. One lid kept opening slightly. She had read where the imprints of Ancient Roman coins were found on mummified bodies, and so she got two twenty cent coins and placed one on each eyelid to keep them shut.

For two days Barbara had sat next to her dying husband’s bed. Her kindly neighbour, Lynn, helped quite often during that time to give Barbara little breaks. Lynn hoped that when the time came for her to care for her own husband, if such a need occurred, then she would be as caring and gently calm as Barbara. And now the wait was over. Rodrigo had died. Peacefully.

How the two day watch had brought back memories for Barbara. She had met Rodrigo at the beach. He was from Bolivia. It was love at first sight! He was so handsome! So kind! Such fun! They had got married in the blink of an eye. They honey-mooned on an island resort. He wasn’t overly rich, but life was comfortable and secure. So many, many memories of their ten year marriage.

Such happiness rarely lasts; at least not often. Rodrigo was the third husband Barbara had poisoned.

1903. Vegan and non-vegan pies

Maia was between a rock and a hard place. She detested Luke, her brother-in-law, ever since he married her sister, and her sister and Luke had squandered the family inheritance. Now he was coming to stay – just for a few days. He said on the phone that it would be a helpful way to come to terms with the death of Maia’s sister, his wife.

Maia’s problem was this: all her murderous, noxious-filled, undetectable poisonous recipes involved meat, and her brother-in-law was vegan. This was a murder that Maia had wanted to accomplish for many a year and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. She was in need of a recipe that was undetectable, delectable, and kind to animals.

Usually Maia, when she had murderous intent, would make the most scrumptious looking steak and kidney pie. (For those not heavily into steak and kidney pie, I apologize). The offending poisonous recipe she had downloaded off the Net several years ago, and it worked a treat. Gradually Maia was able to clear inconvenient personages from her life and live free from nosy, noisome, niggly nerds. The most difficult victim was in fact her sister. She ate meat, but was a picky eater; in fact she picked out the pieces of kidney and ate only the chunks of steak. Thank goodness the downloaded recipe had specifically said to make sure both kidney and steak were to be carefully poisoned.

After quite extensive research, Maia settled on concocting a poisonous sweet potato and lentil shepherd’s pie for Luke. Maia had to admit that it smelled delicious, but of course she couldn’t taste it – not even a tiny sliver sliced surreptitiously from a corner. She didn’t want to poison herself!

Luke arrived. “I’ve made a sweet potato and lentil shepherd’s pie for dinner tonight,” said Maia.

“That’s lovely,” answered Luke. “I knew you weren’t vegan and would go to trouble, so I baked especially for you what looks to be a lovely steak and kidney pie. I downloaded the recipe off the Net.”

1798. Wild berry expert

Marcia was an expert at wild berries. Not just blackberries, and strawberries and raspberries, but berries with a difference; elderberries and huckleberries and chokeberries and saskatoon berries and muscadine berries. The list was endless. There were all sorts of wild berries that people ignored that were edible. Not all were harmless of course. Some were rather deadly, such as holly berries and pokeweed and ivy and yew tree berries.

Gathering wild blackberries was how Marcia met her husband, Michael. A group of youths had gone out blackberrying one summer, and Marcia and Michael got lost. They eventually found their way back, but it was the beginning of a romance. Two years later they married.

Michael loved the way that Marcia knew all the wild things to eat (and not to eat) and the recipes to use.

“If a famine strikes the land,” he used to say, “we’ll be the only couple to survive.”

But as the marriage wore on Michael became domineering and abusive. Marcia was at the end of her tether.

“Why don’t you make one of those wild berry pies you used to make?” said Michael. “Instead of moping around doing sweet nothing, you lazy cow.”

That gave Marcia an idea.