Dr. Johnson put on his robe to cover his nudity and loaded his shotgun. Then he walked downstairs to the door. It was Dr. Marsh in sweats and a hoody. “What’s going on?” Johnson murmured.

“I need to speak with you. It’s of the utmost importance.”

“Let me put some coffee on and come in.”

“Thanks.”

“Nice place you have here. I see you have a substantial collection of Nietzsche. Fancy yourself to be a superman?”

“Can you just get to the point. You woke me up from a dream where I was killing you.”

“Well…I’m living a nightmare. I’ve got one of those ethical dilemmas you so fondly talk about.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“I know we aren’t friends, but I have no one else I can turn to. You are the only faculty member who can keep a secret. So, do I have your confidence or not?

“You do.”

“Okay… my wife is an alcoholic and she’s been having an affair. I don’t blame her because she’s been mentally unstable for years. I haven’t left the marriage because many of my assets are wrapped up in her name and there have been the kids to consider. Now that we are nearing retirement, my children have left the home, but recently I realized my wife gambled away our nest egg. Not only do we have no money to retire on, but she is in deep to organized crime. The juice is going on a loan she gambled with and the interest will double in one week. I’ve considered suicide.”

Johnson pondered Marsh’s words and reached for his pipe.

“Do you love your wife?”

“Yes, but in principle only…our relationship has been strained for years.

Johnson thought hard while puffing smoke rings up to the ceiling like they were ideas.

“You can’t run because you have no resources. If you don’t run, you’ll be murdered. You must pay, kill, or fake your own death. What will it be?”

Aside from robbing a bank, I can’t get the money. I don’t want to kill anybody. So, faking my own death is my only option. Can you help me do it?”

“It will be a great philosophical experiment.”

3 thoughts on “How to Fake Your Own Death

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