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THE BEST LAID PLANS OF THEOBALD STERLING MANN part 1


Theobald Sterling Mann sat enjoying his usual breakfast of tea, toast and fresh-squeezed OJ. As he did on most days, he looked impeccable in his neatly pressed Arrow shirt and Van Heusen tie, complete with his father's antique rainbow trout tie clip. His wife, Betty, was noisily crunching through her bowl of Grape-Nuts but unlike most days, this multi-sensory assault was not dimming his mood. Today was the day.

Seventeen years of marriage had robbed Betty of her looks, figure, and whatever had attracted him to her in the first place. She was, essentially, a cow. At 280+ pounds, the sight of her in her brown and white terrycloth robe reminded him of an overweight, aged Hereford. Her personality was, in his mind, on par with this comparison.

Her bloodshot brown eyes stared blankly as she munched down her feed. She had been up late watching "reality TV" again. The only reality in Sterling Mann's mind this morning was that today was the day. His plan was coming to fruition.

It was Betty's habit to take a bath most afternoons, long after Sterling had left for work and before Springer came on. Todays would be her last. Sterling had left his small radio plugged in and resting on the bathroom sink. He had also left the window next to the sink open...just enough for him to poke the radio with a twig and send it careening into the tub...essentially fricasseeing his beloved Betty.

The sink's proximity to the bathtub was perfect. Of course, there would be an investigation but with Sterling away at work, he had the perfect alibi. His plan was to let Betty believe he had gone for the day, park his car at his office - in plain view for the world to see - then sneak back home and do the deed.

Sterling had it all planned. Betty would most likely have the radio on, listening to one of her annoying talk radio programs — the ones where the disc jockey baits listeners with hot topic questions like "What are YOUR thoughts on homosexual incest?" — all the while scrubbing her massive amounts of flab with a loofah. All he had to do was climb up the back of the garage, well out of sight of the neighbors' prying eyes, keep low, and use a twig to tip the radio into the tub. A moment of electrically induced rigidity, a flicker of the lights, and it would all be over. If the breaker, for whatever reason, didn't blow and the house burned to the ground, even better. The house was insured...and so was Betty. Sterling could easily portray the emotionally scarred widower who had lost not only his beloved bride but his house as well. Betty's taste in garish collectibles was, somehow, worth a small fortune. He could potentially net a few million in insurance settlements.

His plan was simple. The backyard of their modest two-story home was small but cozy and private...shielded from the world with a thick wall of evergreens and thick hedges. A few maples also lined the property and at this time of year, stray twigs were not an uncommon sight. As tall as the trees were, there were often twigs scattered about the roof. Sterling's well-known aversion to ladders kept them there. There was no way Betty would climb up and clear them, and Sterling was far too frugal to pay someone else to do it.

The garage was at the back of the house and conveniently located near the bathroom window, which was very old, patterned frosted glass. Betty would often comment that she was glad that no one could see into their bathroom...and gaze upon her in all of her full-figured glory. Sterling often thought that it was bad enough that he had to lay eyes on it.

All Sterling had to do was climb up the maple nearest the garage, crawl on his belly - keeping out of view - to within a foot or so of the bathroom window, grab a twig and gently nudge his old Sony radio off the edge of the sink and into the tub. Once finished, he would sneak back to his office and await the news of Betty's demise. If the house happened not to burn down in the process, he would simply arrive home at his usual time, find the electricity not working, call around the house for Betty, find her fried carcass in the tub, and call the authorities...totally bereft and devastated. It was all so simple.

"I've told her a thousand times not to put that damned radio on the sink!", he would cry to the authorities just before breaking down in a fit of crocodile tears. He had it all planned.

Sterling left for work as planned. His secretary had the day off for her niece's christening, so he would be alone in the office. No one would miss him if he was gone for a few hours. His business was such that no one ever stopped by the office and most business was handled online.

Sterling walked the few miles back to his house, keeping mostly to side streets and being cautious not to draw attention to himself. The last thing he needed was an acquaintance ruining his plan.

"Hi Sterling! Fancy seeing you here! Why aren't you at the office today?"

Those would be all the words he needed to hear to ruin everything.

He had no idea when or if he would ever get this chance again. Everything had fallen into place. His secretary needing the day off, the recent rains having cleared, and the weather just nice enough for Betty to leave the bathroom window cracked without fear of neighbors ogling her nudity.

Today was indeed the day.


copyright notice © 2015/2026 Michael C. Metzger


BE SURE TO CHECK BACK TOMORROW FOR PART 2!

IN THE MEANTIME, YOU COULD TRY THIS

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