Richard's fart belonged to a completely new generation of flatulence, unwanted child born from arranged marriage of anabolic steroids with modern dietary teachings. For evolutionary biology it was a protein rich chemical innovation causing eye damage and irreversible sensitisation of respiratory track. When deluded in water, it was toxic to aquatic life. Even small exposures triggered mild hallucinations. Richard was thick like a plank. Sensitisation did not apply to him but his hallucinations, they were all but mild.
In his own opinion, no one looked better than him, no one worked harder than him and no one was more polite than him which he, most of the time kept it for himself as a sign of his natural humility. When he was sitting on his stool, he was sitting on it better than most people would. His competitive spirit could not stand other bodybuilders for they were either smaller than him and therefore not at the same level which he could not help but notice with unconcealed satisfaction or bigger than him, and therefore overdosing which he could not help but notice with unhinged jealousy.
For Richard there were only two types of people – he and mediocre idiots he worked with and tolerated purely out of his good nature regardless of whether he was friends with them or not. He was proud to have balanced opinions about topics he knew nothing about and found deducting points from the black man to be an excellent exercise sharpening his mental acumen. Yet, despite all advantages of a bright intellect and a healthy body, Richard could not tell for sure who tried to poison him.
- What do you mean someone tried to poison you? – Asked the production manager, when Richard knocked to his door, pale like a sheet.
- Someone tried to poison me – he explained one more time with. His lips quivered from emotions.
- What, with polonium?
- I do not know? I do not know?
- So how do you know you were poisoned?
- They poisoned my food. And Ron's too. They poisoned our food, mixed something in it.
- How do you feel?
- I am not good, I feel weak, and have got like weakness in my knees.
- You have got weakness in your knees. – repeated the production manager.
- Yes, like weakness, and I do not feel well. Terry's the same. Someone here is a bad actor.
- Well, we better find out who is that. Why do not you go to HR and tell them about it. I think it has to be raised to the higher level and I am not quite sure if I am qualified enough to deal with it on my own. Go to HR, talk to them. Pop over later on and tell me what she said.
- She said not to tell anyone – Richard reported when he came back from HR. – useless cunt.
- What else did she say?
- Not to tell anyone.
- Did you tell someone?
- Nope.
- And what else?
- She said I can't prove it
- Can you?
- They even stirred my pasta so that I do not know something was added to it.
- This is unacceptable. Look, do not tell anyone. It's better if we keep it secret. It may be more than one person.
Richard kept his mouth shut and did not say a word to anyone but Ashley and Hooligan. Ashley promised to investigate and spilled the beans to the skinny saw manager, who, without asking anyone for permission, immediately took the investigation into his hands and established without a doubt that he did not know who could be so relentlessly stupid. Nobody believed it could be the black man. To carry on such an operation required a certain level of imagination and it was not exactly clear if the black man had some. Never the less he took the brunt of consequences just because there was no one else to take it and for the next couple of days Richard consistently deducted points from him while the Hooligan moderated the hell out of his face with a friendly jab of his. With the culprit still at large, the skinny saw manager established without a doubt that it must have been someone stupid enough to risk getting in trouble with Richard. He had a point. There were only two people who could do that: The Health and Safety officer, an ex - strongman who wanted to be a millionaire but did not know how, and the wood shop manager. The skinny saw manager suggested the wood shop manager, concluding that for a man who believes in flat Earth, sky was the limit. An innocent suspicion started circulating around in the form of a malicious gossip.
6 Richard the Great
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