The Ultimate Nimrod

                                        The Ultimate Nimrod

                                                By Bob White

Well trying to clean up all the loose ends, retire with a clean slate, zero open cases, no calls to clear up, nothing I might have left behind, or missed, maybe just stuffed in a pile, because even though I am a very successful attorney, I could be a poster child for disorganization.

I am the person who swears organized people are just too lazy to look for stuff.

I tried to steer Mr. Oliphant to a new attorney, but with his being sort of an oddball, and his having been a longtime well-paying client made me decide to see him.  The thing that keeps jumping out as a potential retirement delay is the oddball thing.

Mr. Oliphant being call weird, oddball, strange, even being referred to as a total whack job was prevalent in conversations throughout the entire community, and most surrounding communities. He was several bubbles over the ability to be honestly described as not strange. Why I’m still not sure if I even like him and he has paid me well.

So when the mammoth gate swung open allowing my car’s entrance, a huge part of me wanted to  just turn around and retire today.

Surprisingly Mr. Oliphant greeted me at the door himself. The door that was big enough to be a tunnel opening on a huge bridge. His personal greeting at the door was very unusual, because Mr. Oliphant had a staff of like ten servants to take care of him, his wife, and Larry the beagle. By the way Larry was my favorite resident.

As we entered the grand room, I was trying to figure out when I was last here? Oh, ah well brings back a little pang of grief because I realized, my last dealings here were just before my wife was killed several years ago.

I remembered so many of Mr. Oliphant’s trophies, and realizing that he had killed a diverse but Immense amount of innocent critters in his life, I felt a pang of sadness contemplating or as my boy would say wrapping my head around pleasure in taking life.

Trophies are now in every room we have entered, instead of just in the huge trophy room as I remembered from last visit,

And still true to form, each trophy was mounted handsomely, with a solid brass plaque telling the full story of the kill; what, when, where, and with whom. He also took time on every plaque, to tell people that every poor bastard on his wall had been killed in natural environment, not on a private hunting reserve. Mr. Oliphant was very proud of this.

Also each weapon used for a particular kill was mounted with the lifeless creature that it had claimed.

I saw squirrels mounted with hand guns, a huge rhino with a bow, an elephant with tusks that were bigger than baseball bats with a crossbow, so many geese and ducks and shotguns, one wall with giant cats and rifles, and the one guy I still remember vividly, a huge, seemingly nine foot tall grizzly bear that was killed supposedly with poison darts and a blow gun, warranting a plaque describing the kill as a well written short story covering three brass plaques.

As a beautiful maid appeared offering drinks and snacks, which I declined along with Mr. Oliphant, we sat down and got to business.

Just about the time I realized that sweet Mrs. Oliphant was nowhere to be seen, Mr. Oliphant invited me into a locked room adjacent to the library. Before we went in Mr. Oliphant asked me to prepare myself, this was quite a different trophy, and the reason I was here was to make sure everything is completely legal before having his new trophy added to a wall for all to view.

As he unlocks the door, I am curiously anticipating, wondering and watching, as he fiddles getting the key in the lock, I’m at a loss for what this new mysterious trophy might be, how it was killed; the when ,where and with whom stuff, and what kind of weapon he had used.

As he opens the door, and the dark room turns to light, I enter and my breath is taken away. In the corner of this room is the beautifully mounted and quite dead Mrs. Oliphant. I am immediately cursing myself for not turning around and leaving when I should have, you remember the oddball thing.

Mr. Oliphant says, “Let me get straight to the point”

I’m like “Please do”

He says.” My wife passed way a few months back, a natural peaceful death in her sleep, no symptoms, just went to sleep reasonably happy for Agnes, and woke up dead. The doctor said there really was no specific cause, she had just reached the end of her days.

I loved her and I miss her being alive, but I had to disagree with the doctor.

“I feel as I killed her, ended her long beautiful life, in which she meant no harm to anyone.

He sternly said. It took me forty eight years, but I killed her just as I killed so many other beautiful creatures.”

Yes I killed her and if you read the thirty seven brass plaques, you will learn the weapons used and the, who, what, when, and where, stuff.”

Before I could read any of the plaques, he pleaded. ”I used affairs,  scotch, reckless behavior, a refusal to have kids, a total distaste for her entire family as well as her feelings , never even allowing her to consider leaving me because of the excess wealth I lavished on her, instead of the love and the family she always wanted. Oh I used so many life episodes to turn myself into the weapon that killed Agnes, and such a slow kill, something I usually deplore.”

Why we loved one another, and this was not a planned kill, and I would gladly have traded her places, had she been the better hunter, and bagged me before I could bag her, so to speak.

So he looks at me and says, “Since I killed her fair and square, I want to display her, with the informational brass plaques, and as you will put in my new will, upon my death, I will be added to the display as the weapon.”

He poured us a scotch, gave me an indescribable look, and asked. ”Any legal issues here?” He then laughed and if not, Can you keep a secret?”

The End