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Damned Fucking Shit Issue 32
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(ASCii By AD!)
Damned Fucking Shit
Issue #32
Title: Short Stories To Enjoy
Date: 6/7/94
By: Access Denied
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Short Stories To Enjoy
Prison. Dark, cold, and damp. He knew his time had come. He
didn't fit in. Never did, never would. He thought back upon his
life, knowing he had only minutes more. The ship. The house. The
car. The plane. He had once had everything. Then he came to the
crime of all crimes. It had been fun while he did it. Of course
he was captured immediatley. The sentance had come only hours
before. Footsteps. He could hear them coming. The slow tap...
tap... tap... on the tile floor. They were coming. Tap... tap...
tap... Only a few more seconds. The lock on his door clanged
open. The door creaked slowly until it was finally open. In front
of him stood the guard and two other men. One was the commissoner
and the other seemed to be some sort of a priest. He mumbled
something about Atheism and God and Satan being one and the priest
left after a quick "Bless you my son..." Now there were only three
left. The commissoner asked him if he wanted a last wish. He told
him to burn in hell. With a sad look on his face the commissoner
walked off down the dimly lit corridor. Mumbling to himself about
wrecked lives. Now there were only two. The guard solemly took
his hand and walked him down the hall. There was no use in
resisting. They entered a padded room with bright lights. The
guard raised his hand and with a swift chop brought the butt of his
gun crashing down upon his head. He fell to the ground, darkness
surrounding him. A loud snap, a bright light, and then nothing.
Now there was one. The guard turned the lights out and left.
He gazed down upon the freshly turned earth. It had happened
so quick. A once wonderful life had instantly turned to a life of
sadness and despair. How he mourned the loss. His one true love
in life was now gone. He smelled the flowers he had brought.
Daffodils, her favorite. He knelt down and gazed at the stone in
front of him. A tear came to his eye as he read the name on the
stone. Gone was she forever. To hell with it he thought and began
crying, something he had not done for years since he was a child.
No one was there to see him, and this was the greatest loss he had
ever experianced. He reached into his overcoat and felt the cold
metal. He pulled out the gun and felt it. He looked at it for
what seemed to be an eternity. He then said "I always loved you"
and put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. His blood
splattered on the stone with her name on it. He was dead. Dead by
the same gun, the same hand, the same mind, that had killed his
beloved.
It was the big game. The last out, bases loaded, down by one.
All he needed was a hit. Two strikes and three balls. A full
count! The pitcher began his pitch. The ball was coming. A huge
swing. Here it comes. And he missed. The big game was over. The
team had lost and it was his fault. He knew it, the whole world
knew it. That night another person ceased to walk the streets of
the earth.
Find DFS On These Fine Systems
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