Severities Should Be Dealt Out All at Once

I found out I had probably the worst case of Parkinson's Disease science had ever seen on July 10, 2029. I always thought my temper was bravado. I always said, if I was going to die and knew it, I had a list. I myself thought I was kidding. I wasn't. I got the news on a Tuesday. My idiot of a high school wrestling coach was gone by Wednesday morning. The guy who screwed up my military career with lies was done in by Thursday afternoon. After that there was a break because I had to fly back from Chicago to Boston. I would like to say it stopped there but it didn't. Almost every person on the list of twenty people I had in my head died between Tuesday and Saturday, July 14, 2029. They caught me as I stood over a former boss who had the scruples of a jackal. He was listed as number 20 on a list that rated them from 1 to 20 with 1 being the worst. The uniform officer saw me in the alley and realized what was happening. I put the ice pick through the little weasel's eye. I didn't get to gloat like the others and give a speech about how he was the trash of humanity before the deed. That bothered me, but not as much as only getting 19 out of 20 would have bugged me. Then the cop realized what was up.

"You, freeze!"

"Yes, sir. I am throwing all weapons to the side and getting on the ground with my hands behind my head."

The rest followed like you would expect of a multiple serial killer who did 20 murders in 5 days. There was a media circus with all the prerequisite theories. There was a grandiose trial where I was convicted. I was sentenced to death. I didn't care and I never told anyone why. They found out I had the disease when my doctor came forward during the trial. He asked me if he could release my condition to the state because he was ethical. I told him it didn't matter and signed off.

December 14, 2036, I was still awaiting execution. It was my 45th birthday. A prison doctor offered me a stay of execution if I was willing to participate in drug trials. I agreed. I had no real preference for living or dying at the time. Living amused me for the time being though. I was never leaving prison. Even if they ever conceded it, I wouldn't lie. I would pick up at 21 if they ever let me out. One reason was because there were still people out there I consider filth. The second reason being I felt unfulfilled because I had to rush number 20. I was never leaving here and that was fact.

That brings us to May 5, 2040. I was forty-eight years old. I had been in prison over ten years on a death sentence which became a life sentence. I had taken a drug which was made from cannabis of all things. It gave me a little buzz, can you believe that? I was checking in for the regular follow-up with the doctor in charge of tracking my experimental results.

"Good morning, Eric."

"That's inmate 413276 to you."

"Very funny, Eric. The same joke for over three years, doesn't it ever get old on your end?"

"I have very little to amuse me in here, doc."

"Have I ever told you how hard I had to fight to get you for my program, Eric?"

"Relentlessly. I know the psychiatrists would have loved to have me too. I have always told you, Bones, I wouldn't have signed off on it anyway."

"The Bones nickname again? You really had a thing for old science fiction didn't you?"

"It was my salvation before I was given my karmic license to kill. I used to watch all the old stuff and forget how miserable I was in real life."

"I guess I can relate. Not with the killing, mind you, but with the losing yourself in a genre. I myself love a good mystery."

"Yeah, so how is the new concoction. I will say I will be sorry when this one is over. I love the pot high."

"Well, I guess I have good news for you then, Eric."

"Yeah, what is that?"

"The formula is successful."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You will keep taking it. You will have no symptoms for the disease. Your life span will probably reach into the nineties. I have the data right here and I am going to publish tonight."

That, my friends, is how I murdered twenty people and got a stay of execution, then was sentenced to death again. I beat that doctor to death with a plastic chair that weighed less than two pounds. I then ate almost three years of definitive ground breaking research which would have resulted in the cure for multiple neurological diseases. I set the medical scientific community back a decade at least.

My new trial was very quick. The conviction was a slam dunk. It was all on video. I admitted to everything. I was asked for a statement after sentencing. My statement was as follows:

"A man's time is his time. Miracles aren't meant for killers or common men. Saints deserve miracles, and this world is severely lacking in saints. I hope you all burn. I do not fear death; it is a release. I wish it upon every one of you, the sooner the better. You will wonder why I did these things for years to come. It is because sometimes people are bad and must be punished. It is also the truth that sometimes the punisher will be held accountable."

If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. --Niccolo Machiavelli

THE END

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