R-A-B-L-O-G

Plan C

by Ryan Brosmer

“Who gives a goddamned monogrammed straight razor as a wedding gift?” Greg and Lea had just returned home from their honeymoon, five days at the Hilton resort in Hawaii, on the big island. They were going through the gifts they had received. Gift cards to Wal-Mart and Target, dish sets, one of those Swedish memory-foam pillows and then two personalized gifts for each of them. A straight razor for Greg and a pen for Lea, each monogrammed with their initials. They were from Greg’s parents.

“Come on, it was nice. It’s one of those classic father-to-son gifts. Like a pocket watch or something.”

“No, I get it. It’s meant to symbolize something. Like your pen, you’re a writer, so they got you a very nice pen. I bet it can write in zero gravity environments. But a straight razor? Is he telling me to cut my throat?”

“Maybe so. Maybe he’s giving you a hint. Get out of this whole marriage thing early. Maybe he wished he’d done himself in before spending 25 years with your mom.”

“Can I write my note with your pen?”

“Your note? Your suicide note? No, of course you can’t use my pen. And in fact, gimme that,” Lea grabbed the razor out of her husband’s hand. He had tucked it back into stylish little box it had come in. It reminded Lea or the box her iPod had been sealed in. She pulled the razor out and looked at its smooth pearloid handle. “This is coming with me too.”

“I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“Yeah? But you were going to throw it away, I bet. No, you don’t have to use it, but we’re holding on to it. You know your dad’s going to ask about it one day.”

“Yeah, probably the next time he sees me and sees that I haven’t sliced myself yet.”

“Shut up or I’m getting a divorce and you can kill yourself all you want.”

“We get any booze? There’s wine right?”

“Few bottles. You going to drink yourself to death?”

“Not on that crap. No scotch? Everybody knows I drink scotch. You drink wine, and they all just bought wine? Mother fuckers.” Greg went into the kitchen to see about his liquor supply when the phone rang. It rang three times as Lea and Greg each waited for the other to answer.

“Hands full!” Lea shouted. Greg picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello! How was the trip?” It was Greg’s father.

“It was excellent dad. They had penguins.”

“In Hawaii?”

“In Hawaii.” It was true and Greg visited them everyday and stood in front of their little enclosure and sipped a piña colada.

“Did you open our gifts? Weren’t they great?”

“Yeah dad, great. Thanks.”

“Did you find the hidden surprise in yours? You should have heard something rattling around.”

“What? No. Just a second.” Greg put the phone to his shoulder. “Lea, let me see that razor box.”

“What? Why? I just put it away in the drawer there.” Greg found the little black box and opened it up.

“So where’s this surprise hidden?” Greg asked into the phone while rattling the box next to his ear. He did hear something small, or two somethings small sliding around.

“Pull out the bottom of the handle a bit.” Greg got a grip on the smooth silver butt of the razor handle and tugged and felt it give a little. The hilt slid out just barely an inch and two white pills lay inside.

“What the hell is this dad? Ecstasy?”

“No, no my boy,” Greg’s dad lowered his voice. “It’s cyanide.”

“What? What did you just fucking say?”

“Don’t take that goddamned tone with me son. You should be thanking me. Now put ‘em back in there and put that thing some place safe and never let Lea know. You ever need a quick out, there you go. Now talk to your mother.”

“Greg, how are you two newlyweds doing?”

“Fine mom, just fine.”