Bad Coffee

William Barnes loved a morning coffee, it wasn't just the caffeine rush it gave him but the taste of it was all so delicious too. The way the milk mixed in with the hot water and cocoa beans was simply heavenly. Every single day he'd get up between the hours of eight and nine o'clock in the morning (except for weekends of course; where he'd lie in bed until 11am) dragging himself out of bed before brushing his teeth, getting dressed into his business suit then finally, after all those tasks, he'd make himself a fine good cup of coffee to start the morning. William was almost a millionaire, a high ranking office manager who had a lot of enemies in the workplace (those being below him) as he tended to be a very strict and uncaring boss. It was never personal, "just business!" He'd tell them, as the ex-employees left the building with their heads down in shame and humiliation of getting fired. The first few times William was forced to fire people, it was tough. It made him feel like a monster, destroying people's livelihoods was never fun. Some of them would lose their temper and scream; "well, fuck you William. I was going to quit soon anyway!" Completely losing their cool and professionalism in a moment's notice. Eventually it made him laugh inside, how these brown noses instantly dropped their butler-like act the moment they were let go. William was 57 and had been working since he was 20, with 37 years work experience under his belt, starting off as an intern until now was a long and boring trip that meant a lot of corporate cock sucking to get on top (not literally of course, I was speaking metaphorically). On the most stressful of days, William would drink sometimes up to five cups of coffee, the afternoon drinks typically consisting of Decaf Coffee (like I said, it was simply the taste he loved best). William loved all types of coffee, his favourites being Lattes, Cappuccinos and good old Americanos for those particularly difficult mornings. He had an assortment of different flavoured coffee beans, such as mint, chocolate and caramelised editions of his favourite brands. In his kitchen stood a fancy five thousand dollar coffee maker, that was a pain to repair or clean out but made the greatest cups on God's green earth! There were a hundred different options on this fridge sized gadget, you could select how much milk (if not any) was in your cup, how creamy it would be, you could even select how hot or cold it came out and there was an option to choose how many tea spoons of sugar went into the drink. It was truly insane, the type of contraption a casual coffee drinker would find infuriating to figure out. For most people, a spoon of coffee, sugar and milk was enough, but not for William! No, every cup had to be perfect. Otherwise it would be like drinking mud, according to him at least. He'd even rage at his own interns if they dared deliver him a less than satisfactory cup of coffee. Yes, he was that petty and cruel! Now one morning, William woke up at the usual time, groggy and half asleep, dragging himself out of bed like normal to finally rush downstairs and grab himself a nice hot cup of the special stuff his expensive coffee machine could make him. The tunes of gears turning, electronic beeps and the flow of liquids entering his favourite coffee mug was always a pleasant and heavenly sound to hear before a long day of hard work. He noticed the coffee had a darker shade than usual and almost screamed in frustration, knowing he had forgotten to clean out the machine recently. Alas he didn't have time to make another, as the machine was pretty slow unlike pouring yourself a basic cup. So he drank the black coffee and immediately spat it out, it tasted sour and muddy, then bloody! Like iron blades had cut open his gums, he spat out gore onto his kitchen floor and suddenly fell ill, crashing down onto the ground as bubbles of pink foam (stained that colour due to his internal bleeding) squirted from his mouth, he began convulsing on the floor as if having some kind of heart attack! The coffee wasn't just rotten, the milk wasn't off (making it taste sour) no, something far worse had happened to William's precious little coffee, it had been poisoned! With this realisation, William stabbed the back of throat with two long fingers, puking up what he could, but it was already too late! The poison had done its magic, his body was crying, pleading for death, eventually William stopped breathing altogether, his body stopped moving, his consciousness faded into darkness and his heart stopped beating. The tyrannical boss was dead.

To this day, nobody knows who poisoned William's coffee. Was it a disgruntled ex-employee, a frustrated intern (who always made his coffee wrong) who knows. Because William had so many enemies, it is almost impossible to determine who would've carried out such a despicable act! Police found footage of a masked man (or woman) breaking in and out of his house, they entered and left the scene on foot so there was no car or licence plate to track down. The masked poisoner exited security surveillance and not one detective could make a match as to who this mysterious stranger was.