Nicholas stood before the withering bean plant, tears streaming down his face. His hands sunk into the loose soil around the plant. There was nothing left to live for without my bean, he thought.
In a fit of rage he tore the soil, flinging it across the garden. He screamed in remorse as dirt soared above his head. The situation became a sad, strange little man’s requiem for a dead plant.
He fell face first into the earth, slowly rising with dirty tears.
“It’s all my fault for forgetting to water and fertilize” he sniffled.
Nicholas sat upon a mound of dirt, defeated. His beautiful wife just finished cooking filet mignon while his two boys would just be coming home from school.
Nothing left to live for, he thought.
He reached for the dusty fertilizer bag in the garden shed. Scooping his hand into the bag, he pulled forth a significant amount of granules. The man reached into his coat pocket, revealing a small bottle of whiskey.
“Bottoms up” he said, while guzzling the granules down with liquor.