Home » The Ironic Elevator (Conclusion)
The Ironic Elevator (Conclusion)
Posted: Monday, March 23, 2009
by Michael Ramzy
delusionthread.com
Seven hundred thousand dollars.
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The elevator is now on the fortieth, forty-second . . . it has arrived.
I have the fat man's briefcase in my left hand now and my suitcase in my right hand. It has been an hour since my wife was introduced to the sidewalk just outside the lobby of my building, her screams long forgotten. As the elevator arrives I smile and remember only a short time ago I had arrived home from work and was surprised with the elevator opening as I walked across the lobby.
As I was surprised just moments ago that for the first time I didn't mind waiting for it.
As the door to the elevator opens I think every time I ride an elevator from now on I will probably break into a strange, amused smile and think of the irony that . . .
The door opens and now I am looking at three men. Two of them are wearing the dark blue uniforms of the Chicago Police. The third man is not dressed as a policeman, but I know he is one. This man with the determined look I have seen before in a certain photograph with my wife has a gold badge pinned to the outside of his coat, and as the door opens he widens his eyes as he looks at me. He immediately draws his revolver and forces me to freeze on the spot.
If you have never been in this situation it is perhaps difficult to understand. The irony of the situation was too much for me to comprehend, and as I was led into the elevator and told my rights I thought perhaps I would understand the irony eventually. I just had to think about it.
9
And so I am standing in the elevator without an amused smile on my face and I am told I will have plenty of time to think of what has happened.
Suddenly, my breathing becomes more and more labored. Even though I am in good physical shape and not overweight, my chest suddenly feels as though it is about to burst. I look at the other men in the elevator and see the concerned looks they give me. I know, regardless of what I might have done, I will be all right. At least they will help me get the fat man's vial of pills out of the pocket of my coat so I can place one or two of the pills on my tongue and swallow the medicine to help my laboring heart.
But when I drop the vial of pills to the floor accidentally and slump back against the wall of the elevator, clutching my heart, I recognize that unconcerned, almost casual look I am given. I recognize the look my wife's lover has on his face as he looks at the vial of pills on the floor. Picking it up, he glances at me and then looks at the label. He shows me a picture of my wife, this time as a heap of broken bones on the sidewalk outside our building. He then backs away and drops the vial of pills onto the floor. He crosses his arms and leans against the door of the elevator, letting the vibrations of the moving elevator tickle his spine.
Yes, I recognize that casual look.
It is the last thing I see . . .
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Top-level comments on this article: (3 total)
Wow, Michael. As a big fan of irony I can tell you this story rocks!
Thanks so much, Ken. This is actually a short from my upcoming book on shorts called 'Signs Of Life'. I didn't realize it had any suspense until I put it into the four parts. Thanks for reading, as always.
Michael, you are quite the story teller. Well done! I think suspense novels are your thing. I would like to read your book of short stories! Blessings, Teresa
Thanks very much. The short stories will be available sometime near the end of April at my site. Probably also can be picked up at Amazon in May. Thanks for your kind words and for reading.
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