I assume you are looking for hypothetical situations. Viola!
If there was one thing about Bill that everyone could agree on, it was his ability to carry a grudge larger than the load capacity of a Chevy Tahoe. And I don’t mean one of the newer Tahoes with fancy seating options and wimpy engines. No, I’m talking about an old, rusty Tahoe with the big V-8 and no third row seating: a real Tahoe!
On that day in homeroom Janet told him, once again, that she was not interested in being his lab partner, or any other kind of partner for that matter, leaving him odd man out in Biology class scheduled late in the day.
While his IQ was in the +2 sigma region it was clear his EQ was located just as far in the negative direction. He did not make friends and didn’t have a clue how to go about it. Was it his lack of a verbal filter, his poor athletic ability, his asymmetrical features akin to a sea sponge, or was it simply the puzzle piece “I’m an Aspy” shirt he insisted on wearing to school every day since his diagnosis in 9th grade?
He left school after first period English class and walked the 10 minutes home, steaming. He knew the house would be empty since both his parents were at their respective jobs hoping to earn enough so they could afford future health care and education expenses. “Greatest country in the world. Hah!”
Wandering into the basement he saw the old 12 ga Ithaca shotgun that his great-grandfather used for duck hunting. “I wonder if it still works”, he thought grabbing 3 paper wrapped shells. “We’ll see”.
With the barrel off, the device was easily concealable in his pants and could be just as easily reassembled in fewer than 8 seconds. That is all the time he would need to make them all pay for every insult, every slight, every rejection he suffered in class. As he marched back toward the school his rage increased to a level he had not known before.
Holding the now reassembled relic, he kicked in the door and burst into the Biology room, screaming “Nobody move! It’s my time to be boss!” The kids cowered in the back of the room waiting for death. Suddenly there was a crash of broken glass, metal bits, and springs bouncing across the floor. Having just caved his head in like a ripe melon, Janet was standing above his lifeless body holding the empty frame of the wall clock she had ripped off the wall after returning from her fourth visit to the bathroom that day. Wiping the blood spatter off her face she muttered under breath, “It really is time for me to get this UTI checked out.”