There’s a bright flash. Well, it would be pretty ridiculous if it was any other kind of flash, but this thing hurts my eyes.
I don’t know where I am for a minute and then suddenly, I do.
Last night was a trip; he’s never had a hangover this bad. There are gaps, blank spaces from the night past of which memories refuse to form. There are bits and pieces, but that’s all. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. He wants to ignore it. Call back later, he tries to will his tormentor.
It doesn’t work.
He lifts it and there’s no name. No caller ID. It says unknown. He figures he shouldn’t. He knows he ought not to. Mama said don’t talk to strangers. Maybe the caller can fill in the blanks. Shed some light on his activities nocturnal.
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So I’m watching this thing on Nickelodeon… first off, I’d like to state that I did die a little inside when watching this station. I hate myself for laughing at SpongeBob‘s shite. I feel like a part of me has been taken and kept on some shelf in Annoying Animation Heaven. I am glad to announce that I will at no point be pulling “Remember when” moments from this show. I am above that sort of thing. . . or so I’d like to believe…. so anyway, I was watching Avatar over on Nick and I’m thinking, that’s not how shit goes down. Read the rest of this entry »
Man I hate bullets. It’s not so much the whole “they kill people thing”. I know they do, but I am not afraid of death. We all have to die some time, right? I made my peace with that. The thing about bullets, and I’m sure you’ll agree, is that they hurt. A lot! And they place people in hospital beds and shit.
Hollywood paints a pretty glamorous picture of shoot-outs. Mostly slow motion and black and white flashbacks. Then the screen fades to black signaling the end of a character’s life. Or the beginning of some messed up situation where the said character has this desire to seek vengeance or some such thing.
That’s not entirely accurate.
The bullet that hit me was not moving in slo-mo. It knew exactly where it was going and it had a sense of urgency about it. Also, my life didn’t flash in front of my eyes. It was just sound of gun fire and then the whore screamed and I thought maybe I’d hit her. I distinctly recall thinking to myself that as far as losses go, that wasn’t much of one. Then I felt a searing pain and then there was that classic fade to black moment.
There was no grim reaper or angel of death babbling on and on about how I’d been bad and was going to hell. Straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Go directly to hell. Actually, in hindsight, that might have been a little funny.
Had it happened.
None of it occurred.
Just a shot. Pain. A scream. Then darkness.
This is ridiculous.
No actually, maybe not. With the way this night has been going, I suppose something had to give. I’d have to be an idiot to expect anything “normal’ to happen. Yvette’s dead, I did not leave the room and I saw no harm in getting it on with a whore.
Yeah, seems just about as “normal” as I’m going to get.Now this!I am staring into the barrel of the gun. My heart’s beating as fast as it would if I’d just completed a marathon of some sort. Oh yeah, and I’ve gone flaccid. Nice to know things in that department are working as they should.
The brown body that was intertwined with mine is still. She’s not dead, thankfully, but she might as well be. This night seems to have it in for me. There’s a moment of awkwardness. We are staring at the cop, she’s staring back at us. I can’t quite make out the expression on her face. It’s like anger and shock had a kid and dumped it on her face.
I notice the prostitute is not breathing as hard as she should be. There’s a certain calm. She’s not frightened. She damn well should be, but she isn’t.
Not a word is spoken. At first.
Then, “Officer, you are infringing on my privacy”
It’s kind of a lame thing to say, really, but desperate times call for desperate measures. It’s not like there’s a phrase book you can borrow from when faced with such dilemmas.
“Shut the hell up! Don’t speak until I tell you to!” The way she spits out the words, it’s a wonder no one gets hurt from the sheer force alone. That couldn’t have played out differently.
What did I expect? Read the rest of this entry »
I feel the inside of my mouth go dry as the shock sets in. I think I might have dropped the “f”-bomb in my shock. Not that it matters, I mean, you barge into a room and the last thing you expect to find is the quarry you’d surely dealt with earlier. It’s a room in a brothel, so I suppose it’s perfectly normal to find a man and a woman making the beast with two backs, but this… this is almost insulting.
What’s this supposed to imply, that I didn’t quite “do it” for her? Was she faking it? Given her line of work, I suppose she would be well equipped with such a skill set. Damn she’s good. I gave her my all and I was so sure she’d repaid in equal measure, but here she is. Looking fresh as a daisy, well, as fresh as a slutty daisy would look. Read the rest of this entry »
Forgive me father for I have sinned,
I have sinned against you and my fellow man. I took a life and quite possibly have set the wheels in motion for another to be taken.
By association, Father, I have taken two lives. I know it would be asking too much seeking forgiveness, but you are just and forgiving. You are forgiveness itself. And yet, I come before you not for forgiveness, but to state my case. To explain. You are all seeing, so I suppose you saw what happened.
You gave us free will, so it only makes sense that I did what I did. You saw this coming, Proverbs 6:34 proves it, Solomon clearly stated that “for jealousy arouses a husband’s fury,
and he will show no mercy when he takes revenge.”. Then again, when you think about it, I showed some mercy. I could have let her suffer, you know she deserved to suffer, not what after she did to me… what they did to me.
The gas put them out. Put them out real good. I am not pleased with what I had to do or by my work, but all things considered, I wasn’t cold.
Of course there was that moment when I slipped, when her eyes opened, when she tried to push my hands away. But I’d already started. Allowing her to live in that state would have been inhumane. Father you know this.
It’s like in Deuteronomy 32:41. You know, where it says, “when I sharpen my flashing sword and my hand grasps it in judgment, I will take vengeance on my adversaries and repay those who hate me.” She hated me Lord. Why else would she hurt me like that? In all fairness, I didn’t use a sword. It is not like the idea didn’t cross my mind. It did. Loads of times. I played out the whole scene. Too messy, I thought. In any case, that would be overkill, so I improvised.
When I think of it, I think you wanted me to do it. I think you wanted me to put a stop to it. Did you?
Is that why you made me drive to the hardware shop? I found it odd that a traffic jam had materialized out of nowhere and I had to use that shortcut.
Should I be seeking forgiveness or thanking you Father?
For bestowing upon me this…this responsibility.
I don’t want to second guess you Father, but given that I managed to come this far, this means you love me, doesn’t it? That you are actually looking out for me?
It’s all become clear. Your will is being done through me. I am your hand, your emissary.
Is this not what I have been seeking, been asking for? I have knocked, and the door has been opened unto me.
Father, I understand now. You wanted me to do what I did. But no one else is worthy. Worthy to carry out your work. And that is why I can not let them take Albert to jail. Its up to me, isn’t it Father?
To bring your judgment upon him.
I know what I must do, I must save him, that I may bring salvation to him.