[Author’s Note : I had to write this. This is what I should have written for #ThursThreads. But, it’s OK that I didn’t get it done for that. I’m still learning. And besides. I’m having fun. It will be interesting to see what happens Monday.]
Three years he’d been trying to find work. They’d known he wouldn’t. He’d never work again. Maybe greeting people at Wal-Mart. He’d refused that kind of work. A man has his pride. His self-respect.
He worked in a grocery store. A cashier! Mowed other people’s yards to earn extra cash. His wife left him. Took the kids. Lost his home. Lived in a trailer park. Could barely pay the bills. Sometimes, he had a choice. Electricity or food.
Well… Today, Tommy would make sure they knew what they’d done to him. He looked at the passenger seat. A little fertilizer and nitro-methane. A good 600 pounds worth.
At 11:00, Tommy turned his car on, put it in gear, and drove it through the front doors of the building. They’d remember him for this. It was a much better monument than a cold stone in a manicured cemetery.
The story of the explosion was the lead story on CNN that night.