Whenever people ask what my upcoming novel – The Exit Man – is about and I tell them, “It’s about a party supply store owner who leads a double life as a euthanasia specialist, the response I often receive is, “You’re not well in the head.” Those who don’t nervously walk away from me then typically ask, “How did he get into that?”
Well, showing is always more interesting than telling. So, here’s an excerpt from Chapter 2 of the book to give you an idea of how my protagonist – Eli Edelmann – went from merely selling party supplies to facilitating final exits:
“You asked my father to kill you?” I asked Sgt. Rush, speaking in a hushed voice with my hand partially covering my mouth, even though we were alone in the shop.
“Sorry Eli – I should have handled that last part more subtly,” he said. “‘Kill’ is not the word. ‘Assist’ is much more accurate.”
“Assist? You were going to pay my father twenty grand to ‘assist’ you. With what, exactly?
“Stopping my cough.”
“What the… why?”
“C’mon Eli, look at me,” Sgt. Rush said just before unloading some more dust and dry phlegm into his handkerchief.
“What? You’re still a strong man… barely in your sixties. You used to get shot at by junkies and gang-bangers – surely you can hack a little emphysema?”
I was aware that I was severely understating his health condition, and that I had inadvertently issued a bad pun, but it was a very emotionally charged moment with little room for stronger arguments or better diction.
“Aw, Christ,” said Sgt. Rush, rolling his eyes. “Will you spare me the obligatory ‘You have everything to live for’ bullshit and just hear me out?”
“And why would you want to involve my father in this?”
“I’m getting to that, if you’d just close your mouth and open your ears for a second.”
“Sorry. I’m listening.”
Sgt. Rush cleared what was left of his throat, walked around to my side of the shop counter and sat down in the seat next to mine.
“First off, I’ve heard it all – hell I even used to say it all myself back when I was on the force: ‘Suicide is a cowardly act.’ ‘Suicide is selfish.’ Oh, and my favorite old chestnut, ‘Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem’ – well, not when you’re chronically ill with two diseases, one of which eats your mind.”
“Wait, what else do you have?”
“Alzheimer’s. Goddamn early-onset ‘SDAT’ – Senile Dementia of the Alzheimer Type, to be more specific.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Sgt. Rush, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, apparently neither will I within the next few months. And as for being ‘cowardly’ and ‘selfish’, that’s just people getting angry and tossing out insults because they’re too afraid to admit that sometimes taking one’s own life makes sense.”
“Okay, but what are we supposed to say when a friend mentions suicide? ‘Hey, good idea, Bill – let me know how I can help.’”
“No, but people do need to try to see things from the perspective of those in anguish. Especially when a degenerative disease – or two – is involved. To NOT do so, that’s selfish.”
“I agree. But it’s one thing to respect one’s decision to die, it’s quite another to help them carry it out. It’s gruesome and, uh, highly illegal. Why wouldn’t you just do it yourself, like normal suicidal people do – not that I’m condoning it.”
“Okay, at least we’re moving past the platitudes now and into the more pressing questions.”
“Yes, pressing indeed. Why did you ask my father to help you kill yourself?”
“I came to your father for three reasons: First, it’s really fucking hard to follow through with the act of suicide if you aren’t insane, no matter how badly you want out. Secondly, I knew your father was the kind of man who would do almost anything for a friend. And finally, he had easy access to the type of equipment needed for the job.”
“What equipment?”
“Helium.”
“Helium? That’s just going to give you a squeaky voice.”
“I’m not talking about inhaling a few small balloons’ worth. I’m talking about inhaling a steady flow of the stuff, which is highly lethal and, when done right, one of the most painless ways to die.”
Sgt. Rush was grinning – actually grinning – as he delivered his macabre chemistry lesson.
“And best of all,” he continuted, “helium is nearly undetectable in toxicology reports.”
“Who cares? What, do they take away your pension for inert gas infractions? You’ll be dead.”
“You’re missing the point. If nobody finds any evidence of the helium – or anything else – in my system, it won’t be ruled a suicide. Remember, I’m a sick man – they’ll assume I died of ‘natural’ causes… with pride intact, and no life insurance coverage issues for my daughter to deal with.”
“What about the helium tank and whatever you plan on using to breathe the gas into your body? Won’t they find those items when...”
Cue the clicking sound in my head. It was at this moment that I came to fully understand what my father’s role was to be in the aforementioned arrangement.
“Ohhhh,” I said, nodding my head slowly and, for whatever reason, smiling.
“You’re a smart guy, Eli. I knew you’d catch on.”
(end of excerpt)
Would you read on? (If not, I’m in trouble – the book is done and will be out in just a few weeks!)
You can read a couple more excerpts from The Exit Man here, including the beginning of the opening chapter. And you can get the entire first chapter of the book (for free) simply by joining my mailing list. Enjoy!
Well, showing is always more interesting than telling. So, here’s an excerpt from Chapter 2 of the book to give you an idea of how my protagonist – Eli Edelmann – went from merely selling party supplies to facilitating final exits:
“You asked my father to kill you?” I asked Sgt. Rush, speaking in a hushed voice with my hand partially covering my mouth, even though we were alone in the shop.
“Sorry Eli – I should have handled that last part more subtly,” he said. “‘Kill’ is not the word. ‘Assist’ is much more accurate.”
“Assist? You were going to pay my father twenty grand to ‘assist’ you. With what, exactly?
“Stopping my cough.”
“What the… why?”
“C’mon Eli, look at me,” Sgt. Rush said just before unloading some more dust and dry phlegm into his handkerchief.
“What? You’re still a strong man… barely in your sixties. You used to get shot at by junkies and gang-bangers – surely you can hack a little emphysema?”
I was aware that I was severely understating his health condition, and that I had inadvertently issued a bad pun, but it was a very emotionally charged moment with little room for stronger arguments or better diction.
“Aw, Christ,” said Sgt. Rush, rolling his eyes. “Will you spare me the obligatory ‘You have everything to live for’ bullshit and just hear me out?”
“And why would you want to involve my father in this?”
“I’m getting to that, if you’d just close your mouth and open your ears for a second.”
“Sorry. I’m listening.”
Sgt. Rush cleared what was left of his throat, walked around to my side of the shop counter and sat down in the seat next to mine.
“First off, I’ve heard it all – hell I even used to say it all myself back when I was on the force: ‘Suicide is a cowardly act.’ ‘Suicide is selfish.’ Oh, and my favorite old chestnut, ‘Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem’ – well, not when you’re chronically ill with two diseases, one of which eats your mind.”
“Wait, what else do you have?”
“Alzheimer’s. Goddamn early-onset ‘SDAT’ – Senile Dementia of the Alzheimer Type, to be more specific.”
“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Sgt. Rush, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, apparently neither will I within the next few months. And as for being ‘cowardly’ and ‘selfish’, that’s just people getting angry and tossing out insults because they’re too afraid to admit that sometimes taking one’s own life makes sense.”
“Okay, but what are we supposed to say when a friend mentions suicide? ‘Hey, good idea, Bill – let me know how I can help.’”
“No, but people do need to try to see things from the perspective of those in anguish. Especially when a degenerative disease – or two – is involved. To NOT do so, that’s selfish.”
“I agree. But it’s one thing to respect one’s decision to die, it’s quite another to help them carry it out. It’s gruesome and, uh, highly illegal. Why wouldn’t you just do it yourself, like normal suicidal people do – not that I’m condoning it.”
“Okay, at least we’re moving past the platitudes now and into the more pressing questions.”
“Yes, pressing indeed. Why did you ask my father to help you kill yourself?”
“I came to your father for three reasons: First, it’s really fucking hard to follow through with the act of suicide if you aren’t insane, no matter how badly you want out. Secondly, I knew your father was the kind of man who would do almost anything for a friend. And finally, he had easy access to the type of equipment needed for the job.”
“What equipment?”
“Helium.”
“Helium? That’s just going to give you a squeaky voice.”
“I’m not talking about inhaling a few small balloons’ worth. I’m talking about inhaling a steady flow of the stuff, which is highly lethal and, when done right, one of the most painless ways to die.”
Sgt. Rush was grinning – actually grinning – as he delivered his macabre chemistry lesson.
“And best of all,” he continuted, “helium is nearly undetectable in toxicology reports.”
“Who cares? What, do they take away your pension for inert gas infractions? You’ll be dead.”
“You’re missing the point. If nobody finds any evidence of the helium – or anything else – in my system, it won’t be ruled a suicide. Remember, I’m a sick man – they’ll assume I died of ‘natural’ causes… with pride intact, and no life insurance coverage issues for my daughter to deal with.”
“What about the helium tank and whatever you plan on using to breathe the gas into your body? Won’t they find those items when...”
Cue the clicking sound in my head. It was at this moment that I came to fully understand what my father’s role was to be in the aforementioned arrangement.
“Ohhhh,” I said, nodding my head slowly and, for whatever reason, smiling.
“You’re a smart guy, Eli. I knew you’d catch on.”
(end of excerpt)
Would you read on? (If not, I’m in trouble – the book is done and will be out in just a few weeks!)
You can read a couple more excerpts from The Exit Man here, including the beginning of the opening chapter. And you can get the entire first chapter of the book (for free) simply by joining my mailing list. Enjoy!
