I was kind of surprised there was a gun in my hand….
It’s black and heavy.
It FELT like a gun you know, kinda cold and vibrating….
You know what I mean?
You can feel it too, can’t you?
Maybe that’s just me.
My gun will wield instant death with a ¼ oz trigger pull.
My gun is a dark travel agent with 6 one way tickets….
My ticket is first class express…
No unexpected stops.
My destination is unknown except for a long layover in purgatory, a spirit prison or nirvana…
That’s what the religion people say, at least….
I’m at the end of my rope; not the one with 13 knots, although I considered that route also.
I considered a neck tie around the ceiling fan, but I wasn’t doing this for shock value.
I didn’t want to hurt anybody else.
I wasn’t angry at anyone, only the guy in the shop window, or the one staring back at me from the bathroom mirror.
I didn’t relish the fact that a child might find me whirling around beneath the fan as if though I were sitting on the edge of an evil merry-go-round….
My eyes wide, my arms outstretched, my legs swinging, a silent scream from my blue lips and swollen tongue.
I don’t want to make nightmares, just quit living in this one.
I’m angry enough at myself to kill me, I guess.
There are pills on the small table beside me, and a bottle of vodka.
They’re pills for what ails me.
To make me feel better.
No pain….at least that’s what I heard.
I had almost decided to take the whole bottle to make SURE I was healed….and feel nothing.
I wonder if shooting myself in the mouth will hurt….
I don’t want to be found after 3 days, bloated and not looking quite myself.
I don’t want to puke all over myself trying to fight the body that was trying to save my life against my will.
I don’t want to mess up the motel bed either….
I thought about a nice hot bath too, with a razor or a hair-dryer.
But, I didn’t want to start a fire or mess up my the tub.
I decided to quit being considerate since that flies in the face of conventional thinking around suicide victims, so I’m in a nice quiet place now.
I only paid for one night, anyhow.
“No luggage” the clerk had asked.
“Only a gun, pills and a note” I thought.
“No…” I said. “I won’t be here long”
“Check out time is at 11 am” the clerk continued, still not looking at me.
At least until he hears the gunshot, more like an hour from now.
I shot him thru the top of his head….
“Thanks” I said.
“You bet” he said back; finally looking and smiling at me.
You should be thankful they say, in all things.
Thanks for nothing…..
So, here am I, sitting on the edge of a strange bed.
I don’t feel thanks….I don’t feel hope…I don’t feel anything, really.
I can feel the gun in my hand….
The hardness of the barrel clicks against my teeth.
My tongue drew back from the bore as if though it were hot.
It’s cold; and it tastes funny.
Looking down my nose at the gun, both my thumbs over the hammer…..I realize I am practicing perfect trigger discipline.
I stuck my tongue in the barrel, wondering again, if this is gonna hurt….
Ha! If it would hurt…!
I thought you didn’t care anymore, you stupid ass!
I thought you just wanted out!
Blah blah blah Pfffftttt!!
Pull the damn trigger already!
I could feel the gun trembling in its excitement.
Guns kill, not people.
No…it’s just my hand shaking.
The gun was all business, as usual.
Pull the trigger, blow yer brains all over the ceiling and bed, twitch a little bit, maid screams… lawdy freaking dah
The El pistola knew its job….what it was made for.
Expression of psychosis.
I could see the hungry brass eyes of the hollow points staring out at me.
“Let’s get on with this” they said to me.
Just pull the trigger already.
Don’t rush me.
I heard a commotion outside of the hotel window.
Well, I wasn’t REALLY, in that big of a rush…
I’ve been waiting 53 years for this moment. Another 5 minutes ain’t gonna kill me….
Wait, never mind… Ha ha ha! That was funny!
“…….ain’t gonna kill me…!”
I laid the gun down on the table, knocking over the pills.
The taste of the gun oil had made my lips dry so I put chap stick on them….
Ha, life is weird. Even at the last moment.
Dry lips… HA!
See how short my attention span is?
I looked out thru the blinds.
I knew one thing I wasn’t gonna do; I ain’t blowing my brains out with people right outside my room.
The gunshot would scare them. Might be kids put there.
Maybe give them nightmares….especially, yep… there’s a kid.
I know what you’re thinking but, I am very considerate of other peoples feelings, well….at least people I’m not related to or the ones that ignore me.
I couldn’t do that to strangers.
I was raised right.
I wasn’t being nosey, just looking out the window and watching the man taking luggage from the car.
The woman had the kid in her arms, swinging her around like a little top.
They were laughing.
They were breathless and shrieking…..but, in the good way.
They were so alive and standing less than 10’ from a man that lived only long enough to die.
Pissing me off…
They began to do the dumbest, goofiest little dance just outside my window, singing badly “Going to Disney World!”
The man picked up the future Mousketeer and threw her high in the air.
She squealed as she disappeared into the sun.
The mother jumping with fear and delight that her baby could fly so high!
I had to laugh at them, almost. It was more like a “Fuck you”
They were so silly….
I “laughed” some more….the gun now; by my leg.
I licked my lips; good thing the gun oil was’nt on my lips no more.
There was only the taste of old, dry, salty tears.
It’s not a bad life, just a bad day, I guess….
Don’t know why I thought of that…..
I’m getting antsy, thinking too much.
I flushed the pills.
I thought about hiding the gun in a trash bag; ashamed of myself.
I changed my mind.
I opened the door and watched the shiny, new people dance in the sun.
“Hey, did we wake you up?”
“No, no…y’all are fine”
They had noticed me….
The little girl waved at me “I’m going to see Cindarella!”
I danced with her, my broken heart bursting.
“Close the door and dream about hell” I thought.
That’s when I decided to shoot them instead.
I hate happy people, with a passion.
I went back into the room and sat on the bed, waiting.
This is a much better idea….
One thought on “Got Crazy? ”
Visual, emotive and great internal dialogue, and a good twist for good measure.