Story I wrote based off of a text message
It takes seventy two murders for a man of no talent to finally pay for his pleasures. To me, these handcuffs are like a golden symbol of my accomplishments. It’s not common in this world for a man to follow his dreams and succeed, seventy two times. Yet here I am in this luxury carriage for the infamous heroes.
It’s funny how they assume I’ve been successful only seventy two times, truth is I have no idea. Of course they will eventually find the rest of those animals. Not sure sure how many of them are alive, but I’m sure they are missing me right. Don’t worry my children, I’m still here.
“People like you make me fucking sick!” says the uniformed carriage driver. “No fucking morals, I bet you’re an atheist out to fuck over the beautiful institution we all love.” I just stare at this know it all, because he has no idea he is speaking to God himself. That’s ok I forgive him.
People believe they have all the control over what they say, then they fill their social circle. Every circle has a predefined job, if your choice is not on the list you are a single unit nothing more, nothing less. The car stops in front of a grey heaven. Looks like my angels are waiting for me.
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Father has been gone for awhile I hope he wasn’t caught. That freak left to get more shit for us. What the fuck is taking him so long. I hate that son of a bitch, there used to be fifteen of us. I killed two. Now there are three of us, me and two others sitting across from me. “Hey! He left some in this shoebox!” screamed jennie. The only thing I know about Jennie is she’s hot and I killed her husband, That monster told me to. “What the fuck? Give me some!” I replied. She then takes a chunk for herself and slides the box to me. I open the blood stained Vans box to find a small trace of white powder. I swipe the cardboard with four fingers and stuff my nose with blood and meth.
Father is a suicidal tendency with multiple goals. As much as I hate him I love him. Because of him I found Jennie. Because of him I killed for Jennie. I would have never been able to fight for a woman like that.
“Hey Jack, you want some?” Jennie asked Jack. I don’t like Jack, he thinks he runs the place. “Um, sure, I guess.” Jennie then hands him about half of her stash. “So it looks like we're stuck here” Jake mumbles after staring over his shoulder towards the front door. “Unless you know how to unlock handcuffs” I sarcastically responded. “Hey, fuck you dick, I’m just saying it has been two days since he’s been gone. He normally at most takes five hours. I think something happened to him.” Jennie quickly interrupted him, “He must be getting more shit for us.” We all agreed with Jennie.
I remember the day I first got kidnapped, it was a Friday night I was looking for kicks. I was with my beautiful girlfriend. She’s dead now. I remember seeing the bullet through her head. I remember when we first came here. we were fed quite well. He told us we would be taken care of as long as we did one thing. He described it as the experience worth living for. The experience turned out to be meth. Not bad.
Suddenly I hear loud footsteps. Then completely out of nowhere Jennie and Jack explode right before my eyes. This is why I like meth it’s like I‘m always watching an action flick full of thoughtful dialogue. Through the rubble I see a uniformed corpes. It looks like some stupid cop set off one of the charges. Looks like father was caught.
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“Hello my name is Erick T. Berdin, I've been addicted for nine years...” I hate rehab, it’s a reminder I lost. It’s a reminder I’m crazy. It’s a reminder I’m sick. It’s been two years since I saw my co-slaves explode, and I still vividly remember the torture. My mind was like a week soul dealing with the negative side of domestic violence. Thankfully that sick son of a bitch is going to walk death row. I should see him to spit in his face. I now over power him.
---------------------------------
Even though I own a couple cars I took a taxi. As much as I like driving, now is not the time. I need to clear my mind. I must be ready. “So you know a guy in prison?”, the taxi driver asks. “Yea, he’s getting death row”, I answered trying to avoid conversation. “I’m sorry to hear that.” the driver sympathizes while staring towards me through the mirror. “No need to be sorry, this guy killed the people I love.” “Huh, I’ve always found it strange, people seem to be intimate with the people they should hate the most.”, the taxi driver says while rolling down his window.
“You smoke?” “No, I haven’t for two years.” I answered with the overwhelming feeling of desperation. “Ok no problem, to me you don’t start living until you start dying.” I chuckled at the comment and just told him, “You have no idea.”
After three hours of passing multiple hills featuring cows, we arrived. “You think you can stay here while I run in”, I asked, hoping I wouldn’t have to call another taxi. “sure”, he responded, “Just remember, the meters running.” I just nodded, half listening and made my way to the grey prison. Looks like the psycho is waiting for me.
-----------------------------------
I walk into a room with multiple glass vertical planes and a telephone that is only connected to hell. I sit down and stare into the eyes of the monster. “I heard you’re getting the chair.” I started to break the uncomfortable ice. “Most definitely I am, son”, he calmly said. I’ve always hated his arrogance with calling everyone his child. “It’s been nine years since I killed you and nine years since I gave birth to you”, he randomly said. What the fuck is his problem I come all the way over here and he tells me this shit. “You never gave me life you only destroyed it, I had a future, I had a job, I had a fiance! You sick son of a bitch!” I screamed at him. “You mean the fiance you shot for meth?” He retorts. “As far as I am concerned you are the sick son of a bitch here. But who am I to judge, right?” he concluded. I attempt to make him realize his imminent death. “All I know is you’re going to be punished, your words will be futile, you will be dead.” At that moment tears begun to fill my eyes. then as if my words had no penetration he asks, “How long have you been sober?”
I pause, then answer.
“What?... um, two years.”
Why is he asking me this?
“That’s about how long the trial took. It’s too easy to extend time during the trial.” He then continues, “No matter how long you extend the time, you’re always going to die. It’s up to you. How do you plan on framing your life”, he says with smirk. That smirk is the smirk he gives when he knows he has control. Not this time I have my mind put back together I will fight off his prying mind. “How about you?” I begun as if I decided to fight fire with fire, “You live life trying to control, yet now I’m on the freedom end of the glass. Now you're stuck. soon you’ll be dead.” I sat back expecting him to realize his pain. “On the contrary, It’s me who is free and you who is the real slave. Besides I will have one last hoorah.” What the fuck is his problem, his stubborn mind won't quit. I need to wrap this up before he gets to me. “Ok well I hope you go to hell!”, and just before I could separate the black phone from my ear he softly tells me, “Good bye, Erick.”
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To my surprise the taxi was still there, with the motor on, of course. Taxi drivers are too stingy to turn off the counter. “Hey, I’d like to go back now” I told the driver as I climbed into the back. “no problem, same place?” he asked. “Of course, I have no where else to go”, I said. He just laughed and pushed the gas.
“How do you feel about control?” I ask the driver while exiting deep thought. “I think every man needs it. Mine is my taxi, I tell it what to do and it must obey. What about you?” after a while of silence I answer, “I’d like to think I control myself.” “Well hopefully that’s a given, I ment third party control, what pawns do you push around?” he said in a serious almost scary manner. “pawns? Like chess? I’d like to think I’m better than that” I responded hoping to end the conversation. “No offense, but if you are not the chess man then you are a pawn, that is simply how the world works.” I just nodded and accepted what he had to say.
It starts raining, if I had control over the weather it would rain all the time. I’m not going to let this man infect my mind anymore. I’m going to take care of myself! “Hey, change of plan drop me off the next city over.” I quickly told the driver. “That dirty place? Alright”, He says with slight confusion. I’m going to take control tonight.
------------------------
How fun I get a visit from one of my friends yesterday then I get to watch a movie. It’s a war movie. I’m not into politics, but I do find it funny. In one hour I’m going to die, I’m going to walk death row! How exciting. It’s like I’m gonna get married to my accomplishments. As I finish up my coffee, I overhear some prisoner ask questions about some father. I ignore it because usually it's some guy who has to know about everyone within the same building as him. I wonder how my friend is doing he seems so stressed.
Forty five minutes pass I get called, handcuffed, and taken to the great chair of leadership. As they sit me down they baptize me with the water of a million dead soldiers. Now's my moment in the spotlight I will be recognized for my greatness. Before I get the shit shocked into me I’m given a chance to repent. “Do you accept the blame for killing Brent kinly, Nick Stark, Kimberly...” and the list goes on. As I ignore the names I realize old accomplishments get old fast, it’s almost as if I’m back where I started. I have nothing. Now I’m going to die realizing I didn’t succeed at life. This is horrible. “Jennie yesk, Jack brocklin...”. I can’t believe I’ve spent my whole life working towards greatness, only to realize it will age. Will people know me in the next two hundred years? All these names I don’t know. Who the fuck were these people, why isn’t my favorite dead. my favorite trophy never acquired. “and the main cause for Erick T. Berdin’s suicide yesterday.”
What?
“What are your last words?”
I quickly smirk and look straight at the man with the glaring glasses.
“I’m more than honored, to accept.”
It’s funny how they assume I’ve been successful only seventy two times, truth is I have no idea. Of course they will eventually find the rest of those animals. Not sure sure how many of them are alive, but I’m sure they are missing me right. Don’t worry my children, I’m still here.
“People like you make me fucking sick!” says the uniformed carriage driver. “No fucking morals, I bet you’re an atheist out to fuck over the beautiful institution we all love.” I just stare at this know it all, because he has no idea he is speaking to God himself. That’s ok I forgive him.
People believe they have all the control over what they say, then they fill their social circle. Every circle has a predefined job, if your choice is not on the list you are a single unit nothing more, nothing less. The car stops in front of a grey heaven. Looks like my angels are waiting for me.
---------------------------------------------
Father has been gone for awhile I hope he wasn’t caught. That freak left to get more shit for us. What the fuck is taking him so long. I hate that son of a bitch, there used to be fifteen of us. I killed two. Now there are three of us, me and two others sitting across from me. “Hey! He left some in this shoebox!” screamed jennie. The only thing I know about Jennie is she’s hot and I killed her husband, That monster told me to. “What the fuck? Give me some!” I replied. She then takes a chunk for herself and slides the box to me. I open the blood stained Vans box to find a small trace of white powder. I swipe the cardboard with four fingers and stuff my nose with blood and meth.
Father is a suicidal tendency with multiple goals. As much as I hate him I love him. Because of him I found Jennie. Because of him I killed for Jennie. I would have never been able to fight for a woman like that.
“Hey Jack, you want some?” Jennie asked Jack. I don’t like Jack, he thinks he runs the place. “Um, sure, I guess.” Jennie then hands him about half of her stash. “So it looks like we're stuck here” Jake mumbles after staring over his shoulder towards the front door. “Unless you know how to unlock handcuffs” I sarcastically responded. “Hey, fuck you dick, I’m just saying it has been two days since he’s been gone. He normally at most takes five hours. I think something happened to him.” Jennie quickly interrupted him, “He must be getting more shit for us.” We all agreed with Jennie.
I remember the day I first got kidnapped, it was a Friday night I was looking for kicks. I was with my beautiful girlfriend. She’s dead now. I remember seeing the bullet through her head. I remember when we first came here. we were fed quite well. He told us we would be taken care of as long as we did one thing. He described it as the experience worth living for. The experience turned out to be meth. Not bad.
Suddenly I hear loud footsteps. Then completely out of nowhere Jennie and Jack explode right before my eyes. This is why I like meth it’s like I‘m always watching an action flick full of thoughtful dialogue. Through the rubble I see a uniformed corpes. It looks like some stupid cop set off one of the charges. Looks like father was caught.
----------------------------------------
“Hello my name is Erick T. Berdin, I've been addicted for nine years...” I hate rehab, it’s a reminder I lost. It’s a reminder I’m crazy. It’s a reminder I’m sick. It’s been two years since I saw my co-slaves explode, and I still vividly remember the torture. My mind was like a week soul dealing with the negative side of domestic violence. Thankfully that sick son of a bitch is going to walk death row. I should see him to spit in his face. I now over power him.
---------------------------------
Even though I own a couple cars I took a taxi. As much as I like driving, now is not the time. I need to clear my mind. I must be ready. “So you know a guy in prison?”, the taxi driver asks. “Yea, he’s getting death row”, I answered trying to avoid conversation. “I’m sorry to hear that.” the driver sympathizes while staring towards me through the mirror. “No need to be sorry, this guy killed the people I love.” “Huh, I’ve always found it strange, people seem to be intimate with the people they should hate the most.”, the taxi driver says while rolling down his window.
“You smoke?” “No, I haven’t for two years.” I answered with the overwhelming feeling of desperation. “Ok no problem, to me you don’t start living until you start dying.” I chuckled at the comment and just told him, “You have no idea.”
After three hours of passing multiple hills featuring cows, we arrived. “You think you can stay here while I run in”, I asked, hoping I wouldn’t have to call another taxi. “sure”, he responded, “Just remember, the meters running.” I just nodded, half listening and made my way to the grey prison. Looks like the psycho is waiting for me.
-----------------------------------
I walk into a room with multiple glass vertical planes and a telephone that is only connected to hell. I sit down and stare into the eyes of the monster. “I heard you’re getting the chair.” I started to break the uncomfortable ice. “Most definitely I am, son”, he calmly said. I’ve always hated his arrogance with calling everyone his child. “It’s been nine years since I killed you and nine years since I gave birth to you”, he randomly said. What the fuck is his problem I come all the way over here and he tells me this shit. “You never gave me life you only destroyed it, I had a future, I had a job, I had a fiance! You sick son of a bitch!” I screamed at him. “You mean the fiance you shot for meth?” He retorts. “As far as I am concerned you are the sick son of a bitch here. But who am I to judge, right?” he concluded. I attempt to make him realize his imminent death. “All I know is you’re going to be punished, your words will be futile, you will be dead.” At that moment tears begun to fill my eyes. then as if my words had no penetration he asks, “How long have you been sober?”
I pause, then answer.
“What?... um, two years.”
Why is he asking me this?
“That’s about how long the trial took. It’s too easy to extend time during the trial.” He then continues, “No matter how long you extend the time, you’re always going to die. It’s up to you. How do you plan on framing your life”, he says with smirk. That smirk is the smirk he gives when he knows he has control. Not this time I have my mind put back together I will fight off his prying mind. “How about you?” I begun as if I decided to fight fire with fire, “You live life trying to control, yet now I’m on the freedom end of the glass. Now you're stuck. soon you’ll be dead.” I sat back expecting him to realize his pain. “On the contrary, It’s me who is free and you who is the real slave. Besides I will have one last hoorah.” What the fuck is his problem, his stubborn mind won't quit. I need to wrap this up before he gets to me. “Ok well I hope you go to hell!”, and just before I could separate the black phone from my ear he softly tells me, “Good bye, Erick.”
-------------------------
To my surprise the taxi was still there, with the motor on, of course. Taxi drivers are too stingy to turn off the counter. “Hey, I’d like to go back now” I told the driver as I climbed into the back. “no problem, same place?” he asked. “Of course, I have no where else to go”, I said. He just laughed and pushed the gas.
“How do you feel about control?” I ask the driver while exiting deep thought. “I think every man needs it. Mine is my taxi, I tell it what to do and it must obey. What about you?” after a while of silence I answer, “I’d like to think I control myself.” “Well hopefully that’s a given, I ment third party control, what pawns do you push around?” he said in a serious almost scary manner. “pawns? Like chess? I’d like to think I’m better than that” I responded hoping to end the conversation. “No offense, but if you are not the chess man then you are a pawn, that is simply how the world works.” I just nodded and accepted what he had to say.
It starts raining, if I had control over the weather it would rain all the time. I’m not going to let this man infect my mind anymore. I’m going to take care of myself! “Hey, change of plan drop me off the next city over.” I quickly told the driver. “That dirty place? Alright”, He says with slight confusion. I’m going to take control tonight.
------------------------
How fun I get a visit from one of my friends yesterday then I get to watch a movie. It’s a war movie. I’m not into politics, but I do find it funny. In one hour I’m going to die, I’m going to walk death row! How exciting. It’s like I’m gonna get married to my accomplishments. As I finish up my coffee, I overhear some prisoner ask questions about some father. I ignore it because usually it's some guy who has to know about everyone within the same building as him. I wonder how my friend is doing he seems so stressed.
Forty five minutes pass I get called, handcuffed, and taken to the great chair of leadership. As they sit me down they baptize me with the water of a million dead soldiers. Now's my moment in the spotlight I will be recognized for my greatness. Before I get the shit shocked into me I’m given a chance to repent. “Do you accept the blame for killing Brent kinly, Nick Stark, Kimberly...” and the list goes on. As I ignore the names I realize old accomplishments get old fast, it’s almost as if I’m back where I started. I have nothing. Now I’m going to die realizing I didn’t succeed at life. This is horrible. “Jennie yesk, Jack brocklin...”. I can’t believe I’ve spent my whole life working towards greatness, only to realize it will age. Will people know me in the next two hundred years? All these names I don’t know. Who the fuck were these people, why isn’t my favorite dead. my favorite trophy never acquired. “and the main cause for Erick T. Berdin’s suicide yesterday.”
What?
“What are your last words?”
I quickly smirk and look straight at the man with the glaring glasses.
“I’m more than honored, to accept.”
