Bitter Grapes

Another tale well calculated to keep you in. We bring you bitter grapes, a story written for suspense by Milton Geiger. It's a very big drugstore, and it has everything. I want it to be big, because I want to be small and unnoticed.

I want to be invisible in my wretchedness. I want to crawl into silence and oblivion. I want to finish my last days in peace. Today, when I saw Dr. Quillan again, I was sure. I'm going to die.

He tried to be casual, but I know. I took the prescription to the huge drugstore. Not that I wanted to live. I just wanted to live long enough to make sure that I had killed Warren.

And this will take about ten minutes, Mr. Blake. Will you wait for it? Tell me, what's that medicine supposed to be for? That's really what your doctor would say. Never mind. I know what it's for.

You used to have one of those little booms here where people could make records of their voice. You're right behind the magazines, Mrs. Plank. Oh, oh yes. You dropped a half dollar in the slot and recorded a three-minute message and dropped the record in the lockbox.

Yes, yes, thank you so much. Now, drop half dollar in slot. Full level, speak clearly and evenly into microphone. Yes, my dearest Warren. You have the note I left for you, about the food I left for you in the refrigerator.

Don't look for me. You see, Warren, I've known all along about that woman you've been seeing. Coming home so very late, to our little ranch home we once loved, giving me your weak absurd excuses.