daxamite
05-23-2009, 01:30 AM
They say love conquers all. I don't think it will conquer this bullet hole in my chest. I suppose I should be mad or remorseful, or at least full of pity; but all I could think about were those deep brown eyes and the gorgeous rack that went along with them. Even the way her breath poured out of her mouth echoed the previous night's fit of passionate angry sex. The way her breath flowed past her lips and up into the brim of her hat made me think of how casual the moment felt compared to last night. How forced her breath was then on each thrust, how slow and quiet it was now. Funny. How many times does a man have sex in his life, and how many times is he shot; and here I am thinking about the sex. REAL funny.
"Sorry Jack. I really did like you. You were fun." she sauntered out dismissively. Jeez, what a *****. Here I am dying and she doesn't even have the common courtesy to say I was the best ever? *****. "Yeah, I guess" I muttered out "although I am still waiting for the fun part". I pulled my soaked hand from my wound to show her the bright red that painted my fingers. I am not sure she needed the illustration, but the important thing was that it left the wound exposed. After a second, I pretended to flinch from the pain. Instead of putting my left hand back the wound, I kept it up as an example. My right hand went for the wound. I sagged to my knees, enough for my coat to flow over my hand, and my hand … to be close to my gun.
"Tell me the truth" I spoke to the ground "Was it worth killin' a man over? I know all that money is pretty tempting. It's enough to change a life. Hell, it's enough to change a lot of lives, but in the end, is it worth it?" I waited for her response. My hand was just on top of my gun inside my coat now and I needed to have her distracted. In westerns they say the fastest draw always wins. That's bull****. The one who wins is the best distracter. I'd bet my life on that fact. Hell, I guess I am betting my life on it.
The silence seemed to stretch for the longest time. She seemed to be thinking about the question. As if she wasn’t sure giving comfort to a dying man was worth the guilt she would have later on. Had she said the right thing? I hope she doesn't answer. Gives her more time to live. Such a waste to deprive the world of those big beautiful eyes and that full heaving chest.
"I guess I ne..." she started. I jumped to my feet and started shooting wildly in her direction. The raw adrenaline flowing through my veins begging me to obey one and only one command: Kill. It seemed so sudden, like I had a small automatic machine gun instead of my typical hand gun. Before I knew the loud blasts gave way to click, click, click, click. Constant clicking and my amazement at the contrast of noise. The clicks were so quiet compared to the blasts. Funny thing to be thinking about now, after I had just killed a woman. But that's me:
Funny.
Part 1:
Hello. My name is Jack and I am unemployed. I sit around all day and watch whatever the TV gods request me to watch. It’s been three months since I worked, since that traitor of a boss told me that it was just temporary. Three months is a long time to be out of a job. It’s a long time to be searching for a job. I am not going to lie, it was depressing. I say “was depressing” because yesterday I got to see a huge pair of breasts while I was out walking clearing my head. Somewhere between the 711 and Safeway I met her. Beautiful flowing dark hair wearing a tight grey sweater with the local college emblem on it. Her jeans were so tight it stuck me like lightning when I saw her *** fill them out. Perfect creases in the fabric begged me to learn more.
Now I knew I had nothing to offer this girl. I am an unemployed loser who’s been looking to get back into the engineering game for three months. A game full of politics and brown nosing that made my stomach twist the last time around. I am sure the next time would be no different. Still I was taught to never let opportunity pass you by. This amazing vision of opportunities was walking out of my life one step at a time.
I caught up and barked out my name as if handing out yet another resume “Jack!”. Smooth, man. Real smooth. I am sure all she really ever wanted to know could be summed up with your name. Crap, I got to throw something else out there. “I am Jack. But did you go to University of Philly?” She stared at me, stared at some strange psycho who yelled out his own name in the middle of the street. I thought she would be half ready to bolt yet somehow she commanded respect, not fear. As if I were smaller and more insignificant than her. That wasn’t far from the truth.
That’s when I noticed those eyes; round brown penetrating eyes. Unrelenting, half crazed, hungry, fiendish eyes! Did she know how much power those eyes contained? That she could finally be the one to whip me into sorting out my life? I wondered how long I could stare at those amazing eyes before she would look away. It seemed so very long until her mouth began to move “Yes, I did” she calmly said back. “Yes you did what?” I replied. She smirked.
I am funny. That’s good. Women like a funny man. I might be able to make this work.
Part 2:
We spoke about college, her experiences there, and other boring things for over an hour as we walked. This was going really well. I am really amazed at how fantastic our conversation was flowing. I worried though, that soon we would come to a lull in the conversation, which she would then stop being entertained. If she wasn’t being entertained, I knew she would leave and get back to her perfect perky little life. I couldn’t cage this bird, but I wanted to admire it a little more closely before it flapped away.
It was near the 711 when our conversation began to get stale. I searched for things to talk about, conversations we could have, but my treacherous mind kept coming up blank. Damn my being an idiot! A lucky, lucky, lucky idiot! That’s it! “I feel like buying a lottery ticket!” I announced. Her puzzled look set the stage. “Because how often do I get to meet someone as beautiful as you? Today must be my lucky day!” I paused to let the cheap comment hang in the air, like the over-sprayed rank musk cologne you get in giant bottle for $10. I knew her next reaction would either break or seal the deal. I waited and let the musk fill the air between us.
“I feel lucky too then. Let’s both buy lottery tickets” she replied smiling. All I could do was scream yes over and over again in my head. We popped into 711 and popped out again a few bucks closer to poor with cheap trinkets courtesy of the local lottery. I held onto mine like it was the golden ticket to the Willie Wonka of her pants. We made arrangements to spend next Wednesday together, when the lottery numbers were announced. I felt like skipping back to my crap-tacular tiny apartment.
Part 3:
More job disappointments and resumes later, Wednesday came. I met her outside my apartment for dinner. I wanted to be able to go to an expensive restaurant, but three months of tight unemployed budgeting left little room for such extravagance, even if it would help me get laid. This time I had come prepped with more than enough conversation starters, and I knew there would not be no dangerous lull. The evening went better than expected. After a long night walk through the beautifully historic district, we agreed to go back to my place, for coffee and to check the lottery numbers. I almost threw away my lottery ticket earlier this week. That would have been a huge disaster.
I cleaned my apartment for this very reason. I know how much women judge a man by how clean he lives. She envisions living with you the moment her feet touch the carpet. I gave her the dime tour, glossing over the bedroom as if it were as interesting as the bathroom. It was just another place where things get done.
I flipped up my laptop screen and hopped on Google. She made herself comfortable on the couch and kicked off her shoes; that was a good sign. I looked for the local lottery’s website and for the winning numbers. “Ready to hear the numbers?” I pronounce in the same tones a person would use for a game show. She smiled and nodded her head, both hands clutching the lottery ticket. “ 8… 7…. 5…. 3…..5…4… and finally 15!” She looked at me hiding her disappointment. “I still feel lucky, because I am with you” she tried to choke out with a false sense of optimism. “How many numbers did you get? I only got the first one.” I grabbed the lottery ticket from my the counter and began to check.
“All of them” I mumbled. My wide eyes starring at the symmetry of the numbers on the screen and the numbers in my hand. Back and forth I checked, over and over and over. “Ha ha” she said dismissively, as if I had made a cruel joke. Then something changed in her expression as she saw my expression. “What?! No, you didn’t?” I showed her the ticket and the website. I suppose life is funny that way. You wake up unemployed and go to bed a rich man. Life sure does have a funny sense of humor. She began to laugh and jump up and down. Soon she was yelling “You won!” over and over again like it was her personal mantra. That night was filled with two lucky events. The other one involved the bedroom.
The day arrived and I felt as if last night had simply been a dream. I looked over to the beautiful woman beside me expecting to wake at any moment. I wished I could have laid there a bit longer, kissing her over and over again. Unfortunately, I had to turn in a winning lottery ticket and get my name attached to a load of money. As we left my apartment together I stopped. “I forgot my coat!” and I ran back inside. My father told me to never let an opportunity pass you by, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to get mugged on the way to claim the lottery. I grabbed my gun from the fireproof safe, and tucked it into my coat.
It was about half way down the first alley when I got mugged. By the beautiful woman I had just slept with the previous night. “Give me the ticket” she demanded. The gun she pulled from her purse made her arguments for her. “Give me the ticket”. Her hand was trembling; never a good sign with a gun intertwined within those silky smooth digits. The blast clipped my left side, and blood began to pour out. Her eyes went wide, but her body worked quickly. She snapped the lottery ticket from my hand and stood there watching me.
"Sorry Jack. I really did like you. You were fun."
"Sorry Jack. I really did like you. You were fun." she sauntered out dismissively. Jeez, what a *****. Here I am dying and she doesn't even have the common courtesy to say I was the best ever? *****. "Yeah, I guess" I muttered out "although I am still waiting for the fun part". I pulled my soaked hand from my wound to show her the bright red that painted my fingers. I am not sure she needed the illustration, but the important thing was that it left the wound exposed. After a second, I pretended to flinch from the pain. Instead of putting my left hand back the wound, I kept it up as an example. My right hand went for the wound. I sagged to my knees, enough for my coat to flow over my hand, and my hand … to be close to my gun.
"Tell me the truth" I spoke to the ground "Was it worth killin' a man over? I know all that money is pretty tempting. It's enough to change a life. Hell, it's enough to change a lot of lives, but in the end, is it worth it?" I waited for her response. My hand was just on top of my gun inside my coat now and I needed to have her distracted. In westerns they say the fastest draw always wins. That's bull****. The one who wins is the best distracter. I'd bet my life on that fact. Hell, I guess I am betting my life on it.
The silence seemed to stretch for the longest time. She seemed to be thinking about the question. As if she wasn’t sure giving comfort to a dying man was worth the guilt she would have later on. Had she said the right thing? I hope she doesn't answer. Gives her more time to live. Such a waste to deprive the world of those big beautiful eyes and that full heaving chest.
"I guess I ne..." she started. I jumped to my feet and started shooting wildly in her direction. The raw adrenaline flowing through my veins begging me to obey one and only one command: Kill. It seemed so sudden, like I had a small automatic machine gun instead of my typical hand gun. Before I knew the loud blasts gave way to click, click, click, click. Constant clicking and my amazement at the contrast of noise. The clicks were so quiet compared to the blasts. Funny thing to be thinking about now, after I had just killed a woman. But that's me:
Funny.
Part 1:
Hello. My name is Jack and I am unemployed. I sit around all day and watch whatever the TV gods request me to watch. It’s been three months since I worked, since that traitor of a boss told me that it was just temporary. Three months is a long time to be out of a job. It’s a long time to be searching for a job. I am not going to lie, it was depressing. I say “was depressing” because yesterday I got to see a huge pair of breasts while I was out walking clearing my head. Somewhere between the 711 and Safeway I met her. Beautiful flowing dark hair wearing a tight grey sweater with the local college emblem on it. Her jeans were so tight it stuck me like lightning when I saw her *** fill them out. Perfect creases in the fabric begged me to learn more.
Now I knew I had nothing to offer this girl. I am an unemployed loser who’s been looking to get back into the engineering game for three months. A game full of politics and brown nosing that made my stomach twist the last time around. I am sure the next time would be no different. Still I was taught to never let opportunity pass you by. This amazing vision of opportunities was walking out of my life one step at a time.
I caught up and barked out my name as if handing out yet another resume “Jack!”. Smooth, man. Real smooth. I am sure all she really ever wanted to know could be summed up with your name. Crap, I got to throw something else out there. “I am Jack. But did you go to University of Philly?” She stared at me, stared at some strange psycho who yelled out his own name in the middle of the street. I thought she would be half ready to bolt yet somehow she commanded respect, not fear. As if I were smaller and more insignificant than her. That wasn’t far from the truth.
That’s when I noticed those eyes; round brown penetrating eyes. Unrelenting, half crazed, hungry, fiendish eyes! Did she know how much power those eyes contained? That she could finally be the one to whip me into sorting out my life? I wondered how long I could stare at those amazing eyes before she would look away. It seemed so very long until her mouth began to move “Yes, I did” she calmly said back. “Yes you did what?” I replied. She smirked.
I am funny. That’s good. Women like a funny man. I might be able to make this work.
Part 2:
We spoke about college, her experiences there, and other boring things for over an hour as we walked. This was going really well. I am really amazed at how fantastic our conversation was flowing. I worried though, that soon we would come to a lull in the conversation, which she would then stop being entertained. If she wasn’t being entertained, I knew she would leave and get back to her perfect perky little life. I couldn’t cage this bird, but I wanted to admire it a little more closely before it flapped away.
It was near the 711 when our conversation began to get stale. I searched for things to talk about, conversations we could have, but my treacherous mind kept coming up blank. Damn my being an idiot! A lucky, lucky, lucky idiot! That’s it! “I feel like buying a lottery ticket!” I announced. Her puzzled look set the stage. “Because how often do I get to meet someone as beautiful as you? Today must be my lucky day!” I paused to let the cheap comment hang in the air, like the over-sprayed rank musk cologne you get in giant bottle for $10. I knew her next reaction would either break or seal the deal. I waited and let the musk fill the air between us.
“I feel lucky too then. Let’s both buy lottery tickets” she replied smiling. All I could do was scream yes over and over again in my head. We popped into 711 and popped out again a few bucks closer to poor with cheap trinkets courtesy of the local lottery. I held onto mine like it was the golden ticket to the Willie Wonka of her pants. We made arrangements to spend next Wednesday together, when the lottery numbers were announced. I felt like skipping back to my crap-tacular tiny apartment.
Part 3:
More job disappointments and resumes later, Wednesday came. I met her outside my apartment for dinner. I wanted to be able to go to an expensive restaurant, but three months of tight unemployed budgeting left little room for such extravagance, even if it would help me get laid. This time I had come prepped with more than enough conversation starters, and I knew there would not be no dangerous lull. The evening went better than expected. After a long night walk through the beautifully historic district, we agreed to go back to my place, for coffee and to check the lottery numbers. I almost threw away my lottery ticket earlier this week. That would have been a huge disaster.
I cleaned my apartment for this very reason. I know how much women judge a man by how clean he lives. She envisions living with you the moment her feet touch the carpet. I gave her the dime tour, glossing over the bedroom as if it were as interesting as the bathroom. It was just another place where things get done.
I flipped up my laptop screen and hopped on Google. She made herself comfortable on the couch and kicked off her shoes; that was a good sign. I looked for the local lottery’s website and for the winning numbers. “Ready to hear the numbers?” I pronounce in the same tones a person would use for a game show. She smiled and nodded her head, both hands clutching the lottery ticket. “ 8… 7…. 5…. 3…..5…4… and finally 15!” She looked at me hiding her disappointment. “I still feel lucky, because I am with you” she tried to choke out with a false sense of optimism. “How many numbers did you get? I only got the first one.” I grabbed the lottery ticket from my the counter and began to check.
“All of them” I mumbled. My wide eyes starring at the symmetry of the numbers on the screen and the numbers in my hand. Back and forth I checked, over and over and over. “Ha ha” she said dismissively, as if I had made a cruel joke. Then something changed in her expression as she saw my expression. “What?! No, you didn’t?” I showed her the ticket and the website. I suppose life is funny that way. You wake up unemployed and go to bed a rich man. Life sure does have a funny sense of humor. She began to laugh and jump up and down. Soon she was yelling “You won!” over and over again like it was her personal mantra. That night was filled with two lucky events. The other one involved the bedroom.
The day arrived and I felt as if last night had simply been a dream. I looked over to the beautiful woman beside me expecting to wake at any moment. I wished I could have laid there a bit longer, kissing her over and over again. Unfortunately, I had to turn in a winning lottery ticket and get my name attached to a load of money. As we left my apartment together I stopped. “I forgot my coat!” and I ran back inside. My father told me to never let an opportunity pass you by, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to get mugged on the way to claim the lottery. I grabbed my gun from the fireproof safe, and tucked it into my coat.
It was about half way down the first alley when I got mugged. By the beautiful woman I had just slept with the previous night. “Give me the ticket” she demanded. The gun she pulled from her purse made her arguments for her. “Give me the ticket”. Her hand was trembling; never a good sign with a gun intertwined within those silky smooth digits. The blast clipped my left side, and blood began to pour out. Her eyes went wide, but her body worked quickly. She snapped the lottery ticket from my hand and stood there watching me.
"Sorry Jack. I really did like you. You were fun."