Chef’s Special

“Can I kill her?” the boy wondered aloud. He stood alone in the middle of a sparsely furnished room. In one corner was a small desk. Up against one wall was a tall bookcase, quite bare looking with just a few hardbound books occupying its shelves. Those two items, along with a few decent paintings, were all that occupied the room, aside from the boy, of course. Riley was the boy’s name. If he had not had bigger and better things to worry about, he might have hated the name. But his name simply could not take precedent over his other problems. After all, he was considering murder.
“Maybe . . . ” Riley paused, suddenly jerking his head to the right, in the direction of the desk. He had caught a swift and sudden movement from that area out of the corner of his eye. It was a phenomenon that had occurred many times over the previous few weeks. Sometimes he passed it off as nothing more than his imagination. However, often times he thought it was some sort of small creature, most likely a troll.
The troll that will be my downfall. Didn’t the dreams tell me that? Yes, he thought they had. But he could not remember the dreams, so it was hard to say.
“Maybe I can shoot her.” He was still looking in the direction of the desk, but could see no troll, or any other creature. A frown transformed his face as he leaned forward and stretched his neck out in an effort to see behind the desk. However, the effort was in vain because the area between the desk and the wall was darkened by shadows. It was not pitch black, but the lack of light was enough that a small figure, hunched down in the corner, could easily escape view.
“I wonder if he can switch between dimensions?” Riley asked himself, his train of thought suddenly taking an abrupt detour. “He could scurry around and stay out of sight. The little bastard could taunt me, catching my attention, and then just disappear before I got the chance to see him. He wouldn’t even face me. Little coward. I’d like to do some stuff to him. Yeah, I’d like to.” Riley paused a moment, the frown slowly disappearing from his face. “Will that kill him? Can that kill him?”
With quick steps, he approached the desk, scouring the dark space behind it with his eyes. Convinced nothing was hiding back there, he reached underneath the desk and ripped off the key taped to the underside. He carefully removed the scotch tape from the key and unlocked the top, right hand drawer. Now smiling broadly, Riley opened the drawer and gazed in upon the gun. It was an automatic; a Smith ; Wesson .22 loaded with all nine shots and ready to kill. Sighing, he placed his right hand gently on the cold metal, slowly drawing his index and middle fingers along the barrel. “One takes care of the other. I can kill them.”
A few minutes later, Riley slid a Beck CD into his car’s CD player. Devil’s Haircut soon was blasting from his speakers as he carefully checked the road in front of his house and backed the car out of the driveway. He hesitated for a moment, his car pointed west, mapping out the way to Jans house in his mind. “Ok, let’s go.” He put the car into drive and slowly accelerated, making sure not to exceed the speed limit.
The .22 lay on the passenger site, in full site of anyone that could get near enough to the car to peer inside. If a policeman pulled him over, he would easily see the gun, which would cause a lot of trouble for Riley. But that was not the reason he was careful not to go over the speed limit. If that had been the case, he would have simply hidden the gun from sight. The simple truth was that he had always been a cautious driver. He loathed driving even a few miles per hour over the speed limit, and was always looking around, very aware of everything that


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