Larry Lumpkin burned his bum on the kettle when the cock was crowing dawn. He stretched and yawned, unable to place the mystifying scent filling his kitchen. He realized he had left the faucet running, and clambered from the roost onto the floor, face first with a loud smack like a belly flop. Shaking himself he jumped up and crossed the room to the dribbling sink, cutting off the flow of water with a twist.The kettle began to froth and bubble, so Mr. Lumpkin fetched three cups from the cubbard with the utmost haste, and executed the flame causing the violent reaction. He added tea bags and hot water to the cups, settling down to have a smoke. He pulled out a squashed lucky strike from the soft pack which lay mangled and torn in the back pocket of his pajama pants. With a flick of the Zippo the butt was ignited and ready for take off. He smoked as he surmised the events that would take place that day. 9:00. Jerry Springer. 10:00. Take mid morning nap. 2:00. Steven Kings "IT" premiering for the first time on cable television, station 64, Scifi. 8:00. Dinner with shots of Bourbon, than falling asleep to the history Channel.He snuffed the fag into the blue oyster shell ashtray. Bones creaking from age shuffled to the counter to tend the steeped tea, He squeezed the tea bags and threw them into the trash, removing his foot from the blackened protruding lever letting the tin lid place itself with a clatter.He poured exactly one teaspoon of shuger in each cup, loading the spoon and leveling the shuger off the top for full and complete accuracy in measurement. He opened the door to the refrigerator and stared inside, Half a gallon of milk, microwave dinner, a moldy block of cheese, and half of a salami sandwich he had purchased the day before from the deli down the street. He snatched the milk, promising the salami sandwich he would come back for him in due time. He let a few large drops of milk plop into the cups than returned it.Trying hard not to spill, Mr. Lumpkin carried the three mugs to the table and set them down in front of his chair. He picked up the paper and after a few minutes grasped the first mug, bringing it to his lips. No sooner had the liquid come in contact with his pallet it was spewed from his disgusted lips all over the sports section. He picked up the cup and smashed it onto the wall above the sink, sending tea and bits of plaster flying in all directions.He ignored this and continued reading the soggy paper, oblivious to the fact the ink was running so badly it was illegible.He took a swig from the second cup, and it, like the first was rejected and ejected into the wall, landing admist the ruble from the first damaged cup. The page of the newspaper was turned, and he tutted as he passed the obituaries. The third cup was absent mindedly received, and he began guzzling the content greedily. He sucked until the last drop soaked his satisfied tongue and his belched echoed in the lonely kitchen.All at once he had stopped reading his paper as a burning sensation crept through the lining of his stomach, burning his throat and eyes rolling madly in their sockets. He glanced toward the counter and read with contempt the green angular bottle labeled DRANO in large white letters. he gasped as the came to the realization someone had poisoned him. He foamed from the mouth like a mad dog clawing at his throat and cursing the air. A furious anger rose in him as he thought of the half finished salami sandwich and attempted to drag himself towards the refrigerator. As the door handle was grasped with sweaty hands he lost consciousness and died on the tea splattered kitchen floor.