Back-Stabbed

This is a short little comedic piece i wrote a few years back. My writing has improved since then, but I decided to let you see the unedited version.
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Back-stabbed

The bad news: I’m not dead yet. The good news: I’m a work in progress. I just can’t stop thinking about the irony of it all. First and foremost, there is no “white light” you can frolic towards when you’re dying, with hopes of achieving internal salvation. I looked already, and concluded that either “internal salvation” doesn’t exist, or perhaps I’ve slept with one too many whores in my life. Regardless, there is nothing pleasant about death. If, however, you consider the disgust of marinating in a pool of your own blood “pleasant”, then yes, death is a rather joyous occasion. In that case, I would strongly recommend being stabbed in the back by your best friend after a seemingly flawless bank robbery. That would be numero uno in my future top-selling novel: “Dying for Dummies”.

Why he stabbed me in the back, I will never know. But why he stabbed me in general? Well that’s obvious: more money for him, and I may have screwed his wife three more times than I should have. But two weeks ago, you would never have guessed that a lowly adult film photographer would be in this slightly compromising position.
Yes, you heard correctly, I do take explicit photographs of porn stars for a living. Am I ashamed? Not particularly. It pays well and I get to keep the memory card. Sometimes, I can even sell the raw photos to my pals at the bar. Take Jimmy for example—Jimmy comes to the bar every week with a twenty in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other, slightly salivating at the thought of acquiring a new picture to add to his collection. Jimmy is my number one paying customer. And Jimmy, I so abashedly admit, has been my best friend since the 11th grade.

Jimmy has worked at the local bank for more than ten years now. He’s won employee of the month 13 times, and employee of the year twice—a feat which never ceases to baffle me beyond the point of comprehension. His wife Gloria, although beautiful enough to hypnotize a man with the flip of her golden hair, is about as intelligent as a light bulb. Brains aside, the woman knew how to please a man in bed. I’ll give her that much. I didn’t really consider my actions as a “betrayal” against my friend, but rather as a favor. He wanted to please her in ways unimaginable to mankind. So, I simply helped. Also, I never really thought that Jimmy was clever enough to discover the many “meetings” his wife was having with the men in town. I guess if Jimmy doesn’t know, it can’t really hurt anyone.

When Jimmy approached me 14 days ago, telling me about this mastermind plan he had to steal money from his bank, I looked at him inquisitively, wondering how G-d had successfully created the ultimate moron without telling me. Then he began to explain this plan, and I gradually found that pretentious smile of mockery painted on my face transform into a smile of amazement and wonder; amazement for the brilliance of his idea, and wonder for why G-d created such an intelligent moron.
So, after much convincing and little persuading, I moronically agreed to help with this unique plan. Essentially, the plan entailed a lot of me distracting, and Jimmy stealing. It turns out that after ten years of employment at the bank, Jimmy had somehow acquired all the codes and combinations for the clichéd “safe-room” at the back of the bank. Thus, while I create a commotion at the front of the bank, Jimmy would very discreetly place several stacks of money in that trusty, suspicious looking potato bag that everyone seems to be using these days. Following this nifty and rather original combination of drama (moi) with robbery, Jimmy and I would quietly hobble to the car, and drive away slowly.
And so, the plan was executed flawlessly (with rather precise and convincing acting I might add). In the get-away car, I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of two simple guys, who make money from taking pictures of breasts and counting people’s money, stealing from a bank. Everything was blissfully wonderful as the wind rushed through my dandruff-free hair. Everything was euphoric—until Jimmy dropped the bomb.

“So how is she?” He said, with a hint of humour in his tone.
“How is who?” I replied, quickly realizing that I was in trouble.
“My wife. In bed. How is she?” I wish he would have said that with a bit more subtleties.
“Listen Jimmy, I –“
“No, no my friend. I completely understand.” He pulled the car over to the side of the highway. “You’ve always thought she was attractive. I just really wish you would’ve told me.”
“Jimmy I don’t know what to say. I really didn-“ With the wave of his finger he cut me off again. I really wish he would stop doing that.
“Look over there my friend.” He pointed to the mountains across the lake. “Aren’t they beautiful?” I turned my body, and looked. And that’s when he did it. He took his rusty old Swiss army knife, and stabbed me right in the back. Directly where the shoulder meets the neck. Wide-eyed, I gasped for air as the shock of the situation completely stunned me. Or was it the perfect placement of the knife into my spinal chord that paralyzed me. I will never really know.

“You killed me!” I exclaimed. “You killed me after everything we’ve been through! You back-stabbing son of a –“
Before I could finish my sentence, something hit me across the face. No, it wasn’t Jimmy’s fist, but rather, that sweet taste of pure and lethargic irony. Jimmy thrust open the door, dragged me out of the car, and sped away into that typical orange horizon. Although I knew I was going to die, I really just couldn’t stop laughing. The irony was just too perfect to let pass unappreciated.
And so, here I am, two hours later, swimming in a pool of my own blood, completely paralyzed in a ditch. I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news. The good news: I’m going to die a complete man, with the most perfect case of irony locked inside my head. The bad news: I’m not dead yet, and there is no “white light”. I must’ve slept with too many whores.

This is definitely some type of comedy! Dude, I enjoyed every second of this piece! The irony, and how LITERAL the title was- I'm sure you can sense the excitement in my text! In the beginning, you led me to believe- or I led myself to believe, whichever- that he would die due to some work-related situations. Then it alters into the fact Jimmy has discovered the affair! And the ending- loved it. [: I might spread this around, have other lit-nerds read this, because this is absolutely wonderful. The middle seemed to be a little speedy, how it just alternates from a best friend situation to "I'mma kill you brotha" circumstance. However, impressive. And this is unedited? Haha, don't change a thing!

Thanks so much haha. I know it was rushed, but perhaps one day I'll expand on it a little bit. Thanks for reading :)

I enjoyed this light tale, which could be expanded into something even more entertaining. did you mean eternal salvaltion rather than internal salvation?

Well thanks! I think Eternal salvation could work, but I was referring to being 'appeased' of all your sins and wrong doings... hence internal salvation. I'm glad you enjoyed though, and thanks for the critique!

that. was. awesome.

thanks!