It Is The Right Hand That Kills

Other Great Books By PA Buckley:

The Witch

The Dead Have No Need For Money

Ah … to be Dead

Skeletons

Tempest

Doctor Incubator

Published by:

Classic Publishers

Copyright © 2010 Philip Andrew Buckley - Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the Publisher. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address Classic Publishers, Phone number (407) 435-4183.

ISBN: 978-0-9849182-0-1

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IT IS THE RIGHT HAND THAT KILLS

A Tale of Deceit and Murder

PA Buckley

Chapter 1

Your hand won’t kill you? Ha! Have you had the pleasure of an introduction to mine? I think not. It is a vicious and foul being, with an intelligence all its own.

What’s that? you say. A hand has no such free will. Then alow me to provide an example. This illustration is addressed to those of you who delegate serving responsibilities to your right hand. There comes a point in a meal when you are finished. The food was enjoyed and nourishing but no more is needed. With this in mind, the order is given to the hand – place the fork down, we are done. Of course the right hand complies… but ony to a certain point. What happens next? Why do I even need to say? Without your request or approval, there it is in front of you. The fork just a few moments ago resting on the table, held out before you, a tastey morcle on the end to tempt you. Why, in many cases the dastardly right hand may have already stuffed the food in your mouth. A direct violation of your orders.

What are you to do? Spit it out? Toss it away? Both are possibilities… but you don’t. To do that would call out the disobedient hand, admonish it in the most direct way. And imagine if you are in company – at home or a restaurant. Pushing half chewed food into a napkin before tossing it on the table. What are we to say? I’m sorry, but my right hand, it is trying to force food upon me. A true statement, but also a clear indication that the right hand is not under proper control. An embarrassment in more than one way.

So what is done instead? The unnecessary and unwanted food is chewed and discretely swallowed. And if in the company of others? Weak words of explanation may be offered. Something along the lines of, Why I was finished. But… it is so good.

And when the nefarious right hand does it again, and again? We are then forced to mumble, Goodness. I just put the fork down. Can't seem to stop. We both know that not to be true. If for example, the next bite of food would cause our heads to explode, would we be so lienent with the behavior of our right hand? Certainly not. That is because we have already made the decision and the right hand has so been informed. The truth is you have stopped, and quite some time ago. But the right hand, in its neverending desire to be insubordinate, continues to push food on you, even to the point you command, Take this away, I just keep nibbling.

Oh, to be sure, afterwards the actions are justified. You have diffiuclties staying on a diet. The food was too good to pass up. It is so simple that way, isn’t it? Much harder, indeed, than to lay the blame where it belongs, with the disobedient hand. We always forgive, and without question. But I tell you, the hand, it has a mind of its own. Note I did not refer to a brain, for I am well versed enough in anatomy to know a brain does not exist in the hand. But I say this to you, look at your hand, yes, make a thorough and complete examination of it. Hold it up now … the front … the back. Move the fingers about. Why correct me if I’m wrong? It is a spider of most dangerous proportion.

I’m sorry? You desire proof? Why, nothing could be simpler. I have an assistant, Janet – or Janine or … oh, whatever the woman’s name is. The point is, she is the one to whom I occasionally dictate, and she, her fingers fluttering atop the keys at an incredible rate, types my thoughts into words. And I have, in fact, queried her, How is it you can type so quickly, hundreds of letters, why, possibly a thousand, in a minute?

Her response? I quote it verbatim: Why, you know, I never thought about it. I guess my fingers just know where to go. Note, she does not say, "I just know where to put them, nor, My brain does it all for me." No, it is the fingers, and the fingers alone, on their own and independently, or rather, in my opinion, in consort with some sort of intelligence hidden within and under the direction of the hand.

And so, it is with these thoughts in mind that my story is presented to you. The tale of a hand out of control. Yes, as I’m sure you suspected from the very beginning, the right hand. Ooooh, yes, it’s always the right hand that causes such problems. We all know that to be true. The left is loyal and represents all that is good in this world. But the right hand, that evil, foul, duplicitous beast. There is no remorse, and while it may have a mind, clearly there is no sign of a heart. The conniving actions it takes, the lack of remorse over the consequences ….

I apologize for my emotions, but I must act, and soon, for this demon will not rest. And as it is my hand, there are no ways to exclude or otherwise ban the foul beast. No matter the location, there is no way of removing it from my immediate vicinity. So clever that hand, so insidious, even as I am forced to scheme to thwart its demented plan, I must – out of common civility, if nothing else – maintain it on my person at all times. Why, as I am putting some words to paper longhand – using the loyal left hand, of course – with every pause to gather my thoughts there it is, the right, discovered cleverly curled around the paper where it lays silent, perfectly positioned to snoop about, sometimes being so bold as to touch the very edges of the page.

Still you don’t believe me? Ha! It would not surprise me if you are one of those ... those, um. Oh, there is no polite way to state it. Those predispositioned to following the guidelines and directives of the right hand. Those who think the right hand superior to the left, those who unknowingly aide and abet the psychotic and evil whims of the right hand, thinking they are in control of the hand when, in fact, it is the puppet that controls the master. Yes, you of the right handed persuasion, I am directing my comments in your direction. It is, in fact, this ridiculous attitude of those devoted toward the right hand that have fostered the idea that the hand that is special, better, in fact, than the left – the good and righteous left – is the right. Why, not only that, many believe the right hand better than the remainder of body parts individually or as a collection. And this, of course, includes the owner of said hand, lord and master of the body – me.

Well, the time has arrived to correct such misconceptions. It is I, the mind, with the willing support of the regal and strong left hand, that is in charge of, and rule over, the body in its entirety. And that includes the hands. And yes… that includes the right hand as well! As for you who consider yourself to be right-handed (or is that wrong-headed?), I suggest reviewing this manuscript in complete and full detail, so that you may learn the horrid truth about your evil stem. Hmmm. Considering the forces involved, that is too soft a recommendation. I command you to continue reading so that you may learn of the errors of your way!

Chapter 2

I have always had my suspicions, of the right hand, that is. As a child, it seemed unwilling to serve food, allocating that duty to the left. And this attitude of complacence, over the years the right hand seems to have taken it as a birthright. But for all its haughty attitude, it was clearly the clumsier of the two. Not that I was biased against it, that is a simple statement of fact. To provide full disclosure, my treatment of the right hand was quite the opposite of what should be expected. When preparing to engage in athletics, the right hand was provided extra attention, motivated by the assumption that if it were to achieve even close to the talent of the left, I would be considered the superior athlete. But alas, all attempts led to failure, and my dreams of the life of a pampered athlete were dashed. I thank you, Mister uncoordinated right hand.

But let us not put all blame on the right hand. I am sure there are other possible reasons why my dream of athletic achievement was derailed, although at the moment none come to mind. This is only dwelling on the disastrous past. Let us move on to the current, and today. As previously stated, the right hand – it was never that which in which I held much faith. But without any evidence or confirmation, I let such foolish thoughts enter my mind before blowing through and departing like a sudden spring breeze. The right hand clearly preferred a life of leisure and was mostly allowed to follow a trouble-free course. Instead, focus was placed upon the left as we were forced to eke out a life for all the rest. Any concerns regarding the disabilities