As You Wish

“Mr. Beene can’t you just take a look?”

“I’ve told you Justin - time and time again - what your role is here. You don’t seem to understand so let me spell it out for you: YOU ARE NOT A REPORTER! You write fluff, human interest pieces. I don’t want to hear your ideas! I want you to do the job I assigned you!”

Justin ran quickly behind his boss, notebook in hand, intent on getting his point across this time. “Mr. Beene, if you would just look at my notebook! I’ve been following the elections, local and national. I have some ideas and I know if you just gave me a chance to -”

“DAMN IT JUSTIN! I don’t have time for this! When I hired you, you said you were perfectly happy with the role you were assigned.”

Justin looked offended, “Mr. Beene, that was 8 years ago. People change.”

“They do and if you’ve changed that much you should find a place hiring for what you’re looking for.”

“Are you telling me to quit?”

“I’m telling you that you have a position here and I am not changing it. If you feel so passionate why don’t you start a Youtube channel, start a blog, be independent or find another paper to work for?”

Justin remained silent. “Oh, I know,” Mr. Beene continued, “because you don’t have the stones to do it yourself! You don’t know how to take initiative Justin. You’re full of ideas - lots of them, but you have no execution. You don’t know how to use your words! That’s why you’ll never move up in the world. You want something bad enough? Learn how to take it! When you do that, come back to my office but not until then!”

Mr. Beene held his office door open. Justin took the hint and walked back to his desk embarrassed and angry. Who the hell did he think he was? No initiative? Fine. He decided to show his boss some execution.

Justin sat at his desk and wrote until late afternoon when his article on the new bakery was due. He typed until his fingers hurt, smile growing as words appeared on the page.

Just before the end of the day he went to find the Editor. She was a short woman who somehow managed to always look overwhelmed, today was no exception. “Hey Carol.”

“Hello dear, you have your article?”

“Almost done. Jerry told me that he needed you upstairs.” Carol sighed and got up to go, “He knows my extension, I don’t understand why he doesn’t just call?”

Justin waited until she was out of sight and attached his thumb drive to her computer. He dragged his file into her editing software and submitted his article. He got up and took one last look at the place that had been his job for the last 8 years.

He went back to his desk, grabbed his black notebook and left with no plans to return.

Three hours later Justin found himself wobbling through the park, bottle of rum in hand celebrating his liberation from his stifling job. He sat down on a park bench and thought over what had happened today. Would he be sued? Would there be repercussions for what he did? What about his mortgage? He hadn’t been thinking about his bills when he plotted his scheme. He was about to start crying when an old man sat down beside him. He took another sip of his rum, body feeling warm, but still curling in on himself in the cold weather. “Good evening young man.”

“Hello”, Justin said. “It’s almost midnight, why are you out here drinking?”

“Because my boss is an asshole and I wish he’d just die.” The old man frowned, “Surely you don’t mean that.”

“I DO mean that.”

“Young man, you have the power of life and death on your tongue. You should be more careful with your words.”

This man doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know what I’ve been through, he thought. “You don’t know me or what I’ve suffered at the hands of the jerk! My boss is a bully who berates me and I hate him!”

“We’ve all had people like that in our lives, son. How about I show you a magic trick?”

“I don’t want to see a magic trick old man! Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

The old man didn’t even look offended. “How about I grant you a wish then?” Justin laughed at this. “A wish? You wanna grant me a wish? Can you pay off my mortgage? Can you make people take me seriously? Can everything go as I say, FOR ONCE?!”

The old man chuckled. “As you wish, Justin.” He stood, “I’ll be seeing you, young man.”

Justin’s head lolled back on the bench and wondered when he’d told the old man his name.

The next morning Justin woke to a loud banging at his door. His head was throbbing and he didn’t even remember how he’d gotten home. Justin opened the door to see two police officers. “Are you Justin Vargas?” one of the officers asked. “Yes, wh-”

“Sir we need you to come down the station and answer some questions.”

“I haven’t done anything,” he said. “Why do you assume we think you’ve done something?” Justin didn’t have an answer but why else would cops show up? He went to the station with them where they placed him in an interrogation room. What the hell is going on?! Is this because of the article?

One of the officers came in and asked, “Mr. Vargas where were you last night between 6pm and 1 am?”

“I went out drinking after work until about 10pm.”

“And where were you after that?” Justin scratched his head. He honestly didn’t remember. “What is this about?” he asked.

“Your article.” The cop placed today’s paper in front of him and Justin chuckled, so this is about what I wrote.

“Did you kill him?” Those words caught his attention. “Kill who?!”

“Come on Mr. Vargas you wrote it in your article. It pretty much reads like a confession, don’t you think?” Justin was confused. He’d written a ‘human interest’ article on the human sloth that was Mr. Beene. He’d written about a old mean newspaper owner who hated everyone and who’s wife was cheating on him. He talked about how the man had gone home and caught his wife and her lover (his assistant) in their bed. He killed them both and then killed himself. But what does that have to do with him?

“I don’t know what you mean, officier.”

“Gloria Beene and Walter Marks were found dead at the Beene residence this morning. There was a massive amount of blood at the scene which has been identified as belonging to Rufus Beene, the husband. The thing is, his body is nowhere to be found. Imagine our surprise when we see your article this morning in the paper detailing the murders. You wrote and submitted it yesterday and didn’t show up at work today. Your colleagues told us how Mr. Beene would often yell at you and did so yesterday as well. Did you take revenge on him? Did you plan it? WHERE IS THE BODY?!”

“I hated him but I wouldn’t have killed him,” he argued. “You wrote in your article that he died!”

“Because I hated him! Not because I wanted him to die!” The officer looked at him calmly. “Sir, it’s one thing to hate someone, even to wish they’d die. But you wrote explicitly that this man died. If you didn’t want him dead, why would you say that? Why would you use your words that way?”

Justin was completely dumbfounded. He hadn’t murdered anyone. He hated his boss but he didn’t want him dead and he certainly hadn’t done it. He remembered his conversation with the old man. I wish he’d just die, he had said. But no, he didn’t even tell the old man who his boss was or where he worked. But the man had known his name! But how? He tried to remember everything he’d said to the old man, but his alcohol fogged brain couldn’t produce a conversation.

The police questioned him for hours, into the evening. Around 10 pm, a police officer entered the room telling him he was free to go. Justin got up quickly, not knowing how but being thrilled that he was able to leave.

As he walked out of the station he heard someone trailing behind him and saw the old man. Fear seized him, thinking the man was there to harm him. “Hello young man. How was your day?”

“Did you kill him?”

“Kill who, your boss? How could I when I was with you last night?”

“You left the park before I did and you knew my name without me telling you.” The old man looked at him for a long time, then chuckled and started walking. Justin followed him when he looked back. “That’s true. I left, but if anyone killed him it was you. I granted your wishes. You spoke and I made people take your words seriously - everything went exactly as you said, didn’t it?”

Justin stood there silent, mouth open taking in everything the man had said.

“That’s not what I meant!” Justin yelled. “It may not have been what you meant, but it’s what you said. You need to take better care with how you use your words, Justin Vargas. Life and death in the tongue remember?” the old man chuckled, “I even paid off your mortgage”.

“I owe $20,000 on my mortgage, you didn’t pay that off.”

“Go ahead and check.” Justin pulled out his phone to check his bank account and sure enough, the money was there pending to his bank. Before Justin could ask, the old man said, “You have so much potential. So many ideas and so many words. Do not use them to hurt, tear down or assassinate people. You are only alive for a little while and thus, you only have so many words you can say. Make sure you use them properly, Justin. Do not speak carelessly. I’m sure you don’t want me granting anymore of your wishes, do you?”

Justin gulped, “No, I don’t.”

“Good. Take care,” the old man nodded and began to walk away. He turned back and said, “of your words.”