It was, of course, the most eerily calm scene in the world.
Everything about Sir was eerily calm...from the thick smoke that billowed around him, to his green suit, then back up to his face, his eyes, always kept hidden from the world, except for the one time, that one time he let me see them, that time where I felt honored to have glimpsed the pale grey magnificence of them. I never feared Sir, though I'm sure everyone thinks I did. I respected and admiredhim, and sometimes hatedhim. Or maybe it was love. Nevertheless, there was no fear.
He would always sit behind his desk, and smoke. Sometimes, you could catch him staring out the long rectangular window in his office, blankly, then he would turn his face away from the light of the sun, sighing, as though life had been hard on him.
I honestly don't know much about Sir, and I don't think I ever will. I know that he had 'a very terrible childhood', which probably meant that his mother didn't give him enough money to buy all of the candy he wanted. Sir was a very shallow man...albeit, a persuasive one.
Perhaps it was persuasion that inspired to me to become his partner.
I'll always remember the day he asked me about that...It was only a few years ago, you see...He was 22, and I was 24. I suppose our relationship had a sort of affectionate undertone...We would always hug when we saw each other, while onlookers stared, and there were a few times when we kissed each other on the cheek...
"Hey, Charles?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm think about starting a business."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. A lumber mill. You interested?"
"Where are you going to get the money to start a lumber mill?"
"You."
"Sir..."
"Charles, come on. We'd be partners! Everything would be equal!"
"Partners? Jeez..."
"Not that kind of partners, you hunky bunch of manmeat."
"Oh."
"You in?"
"I guess."
"Great, Charles. I always knew I could trust you."
I was rich, then. My parents had died and left me a lot of money...Sir, a runaway, I believe, had no money...I guess you could call me a benefactor, in a way.
I gave him everything...Sir had no clue what I gave for him. But, when you really care about someone or something...you give them everything. You slave for them...in hopes that your slavery will pay off.
Mine never did. Perhaps...it was after the Baudelaires left, when I began think about the mill.
How my money had paid for everything.
How I was entitled to everything.
How much Sir owed me.
It was of course the most eerily calm scene in the world, when I murdered Sir. I murdered him in his office, at the blackest hour before dawn. His bloody fingerprints smeared on his treasured window. And, I finally got to see his eyes again.
God, he had gorgeous eyes. They mirrored your reflection perfectly.
I killed him for the mill. The Lucky Smells Lumber Mill is now fully mine, and always will be. Tell the authorities if you like, I don't care.
No one else can have my mill. I made sure to fire all the workers...or perhaps I killed them too, I don't know. There are many patches of dirt behind the mill...wouldn't it be delicious if they were all graves? I know Sir is out there...At least, his body is. Sir's soul left along time ago...I could almost feel it coming out of him, when I killed him.
Sometimes I miss Sir.
When that happens...I play with the mill. I run around it, as if I were some little child, frolicking in his own private park.
I go into Sir's office, and I smoke one of his cigars.
And, I laugh. Oh, yes, I always laugh. The sheer irony of it all kills me every time.
You see...Everyone thought Sir was the boss, the president, Mr. Important. No one ever gave me a second thought.
Maybe it was because I always acted so calm.
So very calm.
One might even say...eerily calm? But, that can't be true...
Can it?
Finish