@@DESCRIPT="`A Thin Vial' By Aragorn"

                                A Thin Vial

   Drip, two drops fell into the glass.  A lonely wave pulsated across 
the surface of the innocent looking coke from sonic.  I knew she would
never love me; that the sex would be meaningless.  But my lust supplied 
me with the nerve to drop the spanish fly in her drink.  She clunked back
down in her seat, and began talking to a friend next to her.  I wondered
if she had a boyfriend, probably a mindless jock, that supplied her with
popularity, and appealed to her parents.  High school society is such a 
joke.
   
   Walking across the hall one day I had noticed her.  The way her legs
swished together, her soft breasts that formed with the rest of her perfect
body, the long golden hair that came to her midback, and curled near the 
end, her soft voice, and merry laugh; I was in love the first time I   
saw her.  Thus, I became a victim of the classic cliche.  Me, a loser
that had nothing, falling for a bubbly cheerleader.  
   
   The bell rang.  I slowly got up from my seat, and drew my jacket around 
my shoulders.  Following her out to the parking lot, I inquired if she 
could possibly give me a ride home.  "Sure, hop in, where do you live?"  
she asked. I gave her directions to my aunts house in the country, as 
thoughts raced through my mind.  My plan was in effect.  I knew that 
she wouldn't refuse me a ride; it just wasn't in her nature.    

   We were about one half of a mile out into the country, when I started
looking over, to see if the aphrodisiac was taking effect.  I could not
see anything yet, so I started idle conversation.  Soon, I had learned
nothing more, than the fact that she was sleepy, and felt strange.  
The advertisement in the cheap porn magazine I had picked up said nothing
about any side effects!  My palms were sweating, and the nervousness 
showed well in my voice.  Her eyes were getting heavier.
My heart pounding, my lungs tried to scream, but could not force the air
up.  I was going mad waiting, and the effects did not seem to be taking
place.  We were another half a mile out when she passed out at the wheel.
The little mazda careened off into a ditch, and onto a perilous sitiation
perched with the two front wheels over the edge of a cliff, right above 
a river.  I reached over and wildly began tearing her clothes off.
Still thinking I had what I wanted I took off my pants and I grabbed her.  
Everything was spinning as I began pumping into her.  There was no  
response from her limp body.  I started to grab her hair and rip it 
out screaming loudly over and over that I loved her.  I began to  
feel my body fall the the throes of orgasm, and when it was over
a feeling of guilt swept over me.

   Her normally rosy cheeks had turned a sickly blue color, and she was 
no longer breathing.  I pounded on her chest wondering what had gone wrong. 
I dug into my pocket, and retrieved the thin vial I had poured the spanish 
fly into.  A sick feeling fell into my stomach as I realized what 
had happened.  I had the wrong vial, this one contained the arsenic I 
had planned to use for a long overdue suicide.  Matter-of-factly
I reached to the steering wheel, and turned the ignition, and popped it into 
drive.  Sighing, and thinking about what could have been, I floored it.

   They found the car three days later.  Her broken remains next to mine.  
She the victim of my stupidity, I, the victim of society.  I embraced the 
cold black recess of death, for I was home at last.  Peace was here, 
and love was not.



Zane Norsworthy
