Art stared at his students and realized that they had no idea what to do. He shifted the weight of the gun in his hands and forced it farther down his throat. That's the way to do it, he thought. Straight into the brain.
He had conjured up the plan almost a month ago, but the timing just hadn't been right. His divorce hadn't been final and, at the time, he felt that his students still had much to learn from his expertise. Now that his works finally hung in perfect unison on the walls of the Murham Art Center he knew that this would be his crowning achievement, the one that everyone would pay big money for.
He could sense the large canvas that leaned neatly against the easel behind him. One shot…
Praising his ingenuity, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet rocketed through his brain, ricochetted against the top of his skull, launched from his head and embedded in the wall next to the old clock which always ran five minutes slow.
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