Chip Clipped
dark humor / mature themes
I killed a man with a chip clip once.
I wasn’t even there, but it was still my fault.
Let me explain.
Several years ago, I was enjoying the single life. I shared an apartment with Jesse, my best friend. Our apartment was a constant mess. The frying pan was encrusted with last night’s ketchup and noodles. Next to it sat a pot of week-old chili.
One couch was covered with golf clubs and empty beer cans.
On the other couch Jason snored, recovering from last night’s drunk fest.
Magazines, comic books, and video games littered the floor. The carpet hadn’t been vacuumed since the last time I dated a girl.
I was so excited when my crush, Tammy, said she was coming over to watch a movie.
After kicking Jason’s semi-lifeless body out the door, I got to work. There wasn't much time before Tammy showed up so I had to half-ass it.
I stashed comic books, magazines and video games under the couches. I tossed the golf clubs in the closet. The beer cans followed. There was no time to wash the dishes. I shoved them in the refrigerator. No drinks tonight.
I swept the beer bong, some overdue utility bills, and a metal chip clip into my arms and jammed them into the microwave.
Bolting upstairs, I took a bachelor’s shower, just deodorant and cologne. I grabbed some semi-clean clothes from the floor before cramming the rest into the closet.
I finished without a moment to spare. Someone knocked. I went downstairs to greet Tammy. She brought snacks and soda for us both.
The movie ended. Tammy suggested we go to her place to “watch another movie.” I nodded vigorously.
While I was at Tammy’s getting to know her better, Jesse came home very drunk and looking for something to eat. He tossed a package of popcorn in the microwave and hit the “Popcorn” button.
He didn't notice the items stashed in there.
The metal chip clip sparked.
The bills ignited.
Jesse sprinted to the closet for the fire extinguisher. A mountain of golf clubs and beer cans collapsed on top of him. He leapt away from the avalanche and twisted his ankle when he landed.
With the fire extinguisher in hand, he hobbled to the microwave. To steady himself, he grabbed the refrigerator door.
It opened.
Several steel pots crashed to the ground.
One landed on his good foot and crushed his toes.
The fire had spread from the microwave into the kitchen. Jesse limped toward the phone to call 911. There was no dial tone. The unpaid phone bill was now a pile of ashes.
Crawling toward the door on his hands and knees, he slipped on a comic book.
His head struck the ground.
He was unconscious.
A neighbor smelled the smoke and called the fire department. The firemen pulled Jesse from the flames.
A thunderstorm dumped rain onto the windshield.
Visibility was limited.
The ambulance driver didn't see the large truck stalled in the intersection.
The vehicles collided.
Everyone was okay. A second ambulance arrived and took Jesse to the hospital.
Hours later, Jesse was released from the hospital into the storm.
He was struck by lightning.
That is how I killed my best friend with a chip clip.