Tuesday, November 3, 2009


He sat down on the wooden stool and removed his dusty hat. As he patted it with his hands the filth lingered in the air, illuminated by the sunlight that came through the back door. I watched it swirl largo in the gentle breeze, moving ever so slowly as if it were perennially stuck in the room we shared right then.

My trousers were a bit less soiled than his. He had made his rounds for the day and earned his share of filth. I on the other hand had merely coerced my way into his house.

I wanted to talk to him though. I needed to speak my mind and relay my thoughts for once. He needed to hear this after all - that I had put myself through so much in order to get by in these rough times.

So I began.

“Your idea is a horrible piece of shit and I think it does no good for the aggregate needs of our community and the specialized functions necessary for the principles of our far-fetched yet law-abiding demands and desires,” I exclaimed with a harsh rash.

I stopped for a second and let silence run through my brain in a far more useful manner than the thoughts that had just purged through my mouth.

“What the fuck did I just say?” I thought to myself.

His reaction was predictable. He just stood there staring past me like he had been before I even opened my mouth. His fingers slowly pinched the fringe of his hat as he pursed his lips in a miffed manner.

The squints of his eyes showed the detail of his agression and stress built inside but he remained cool and calm – if you can call it that.

Slowly his left arm raised above the table to his left. He moved the hat back on to his sullied crown with the palm of his right hand and looked towards the window. He grabbed the revolver on the table and cocked the trigger back without looking.

“You’re a very smart lad,” he grumbled between his teeth.

I couldn’t help but stare at the charcoal and sooty shadow on his cheeks.

“But you piss me off sometimes more than you make me happy.”

My eyes remained fixed on his left jaw.

“So I’m going to do you a favor,” he muttered.

“I’m going to let you walk ten paces in reverse….”

He paused to look down at his revolver.

“And then I’m going to count to four.”

“Why four?” I asked without a hesitation.

“What was that stammer?” he slipped.

“What’d you just say?”

“Fuck.” I thought to myself.

His eyes remained glassed over.

“What the fuck did I just do.”

No comments: