It would be said that the day Casey killed more than a dozen people in his office was the day that he had gone crazy, but truth be told, that had happened long before. This was just the day he acted on it.

Casey’s job at the firm was to collect expense receipts, calculate expenditures, and reimburse the employees. There had to be a balance, someone to make sure everything was accounted and budgeted for. The system was simple. Casey’s seat could have been filled by anyone, and he knew that, so he rarely turned down extra work when asked, even fixing the plumbing in the women’s restroom sink once.

The system was simple, yet everyone made his job difficult. Casey needed everyone’s receipts by noon on Friday to have the payouts ready by the next paycheck. It was the same every Friday. But every Friday would come, and they would forget, or they couldn’t find their receipt, or they would throw it in the trash and blame him when they never received their money.

Every time he felt someone take advantage of his good nature, asking him to do something that wasn’t his job, like input a receipt at five or order more industrial cleaner for the janitorial staff, it was like one more hornet that buzzed around inside his head, starting as an annoyance, then growing to a screaming swarm that drowned out everything else.

One Friday, Brad caught him in the bathroom, saying over the stall wall, “Hey, pal. I gotta get out of here early today, because my kid has a… thing. Can I just send you my receipts on Monday, first thing?” Casey calmly put on his pants, picked up the toilet cistern cover, and beat Brad to death with it.

After that, he opened the cabinets beneath the sink and started mixing cleaners till a deadly fog poured out of one. He tossed that into the cubicles, and as his coworkers fled, he grabbed and alternately throttled or brained them. When the police eventually arrived, he was still shaking long-dead Tammy by the neck, repeating, “It was simple. It was simple,” until they were forced to gun him down.