The Complaint (part 12)

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She picked up the file folder and began to read it. It contained information about a Mr. Barrett Kraft, a 70 year old man who had been a bully all his life, he was on life support and his family had just pulled the plug. He would be arriving in Hell soon and Ellen was supposed to design a punishment for him.
She paged through the folder as she sipped her disappointingly weak office coffee. She was appalled by what she read.
Barrett had been born and raised in Evanston, Illinois and was the son of an ACLU Attorney and a Podiatrist. He had an older sister who was apparently his first victim. She had thick glasses and buck teeth and he used to say she looked like an ugly jackrabbit. He would tell her that no one would ever want to marry her and that her friends all laughed at her behind her back. He had even tape recorded them doing this.
In school he picked on a younger smaller boy whose hands shock. He would call the boy an epileptic and ask the boy why he was such a nervous wreck right in front of the girls. In high school he and his friend looked though the yearbook and decided that a girl named Mary Rogers was the ugliest girl in the school. Barrett had been the one to call her and tell her what they all thought of her.
His parents never did anything to stop him, they didn’t believe in censoring their son. Ellen took this into consideration, but he still came across a douche bag.
His test scores were too low to get into college, so he’d gone into the army and fought in the Vietnam war in spite of having full knowledge that the war was illegal. He was a cook in a medical unit where he sexually harassed the women and beat up a smart, but awkward medical assistant who was always reading. He’d gotten married to a shy woman who he verbally abused and they had two kids. He loved his daughter who was class president and a cheerleader, but he ridiculed his son who was awkward, a bit fat and suffered from a learning disability.
“God, I’d never read anything so horrible in my life”. She said to Rhonda in the break room.
“Have you thought of a punishment yet,” Rhonda asked.
“Well, he could be forced to walk the streets of Hell with all the maladies that he made fun of.”
“What streets? It’s all rivers here, hon?”
“Oh, well he could be locked in a small room with nothing but one of those soul mirrors.”
“Well, that might get accepted, but I doubt it. The higher-ups like a punishment that’s both physical and psychological. You want to make him do something to himself that he did to others, but it should be kind of metaphorical. He should do something to himself physically that symbolizes what he did to others emotionally.
Ellen went back to her desk. She wondered what to do, she was so tired of SpagehtiO’s. She attempted to surf the net, but all that would come up was that day’s news. At lunch she sat in the restaurant and stared down at the sinners being punished. She watched everyone eating; then she got an idea.

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