CPR Murder

The plan began to formulate itself in my mind not long after taking up tenancy in the new house. A throbbing, festering infection of hate took hold of my mind. The sight, the smell, even the thought of the man that was my landlord blurred my vision and teared my eyes. The gluttonous fat man was going to have to die. My knowledge of classic tales of suspense provided me with the insight that in my state of madness, disposing of the body would be impossible. I would have to openly offer his wretched corpse to the proper authorities; the only ones who could finally do away with it. However, I would have to take his life, and my depravity provided the means. When the night came, I waited until his disgusting rhythmic groans of slothful comfort betrayed his vulnerability, and I krept down from my loft to the foot of his door. I waited there silently, without a lantern to shine upon my target, to ensure his sleep remained uninterrupted. Then the moment came, when the adrenaline surged through my viens, and I took hold of the knob and with a quick snap of the wrist, was in his room and a moment later on top of him. What transpired next illustrates the brilliance of my plan. With one crashing blow from my elbow to his solar plexus, his chest caved inwards with the full force of the falling weight of my body. Did he awaken at this moment? I can not be sure, for when he attempted his inhalation, my mouth fell upon his and he recieved no air. And my clutched hands began to pump mercilessly upon his rib cage, disabling his breathing and placing great strain upon his heart. His suffocation was immediate, and to the paramedics that reached him, so was the diagnosis of his death: a massively fatal heart attack despite the heroic attempt of his loyal tenant to save him.