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Steve Johannes is a normal guy living in New York City. He's planning something sinister out of hatred and anger that hypnotized him for a last few months. It's a conscious and rational hatred rather than a genuine emotion. He's taking justice into his hands, and he suddenly realizes that everything going on is crazy and amusing.


Submitted:May 6, 2014    Reads: 54    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Jungle Life

He takes a shower and performs his morning rituals. They consist of little exercise routines and two cigarettes before he heads out. With a cigarette in his mouth he looks out the window. It's raining outside. It's a smooth and tranquil day, he thinks.

Outside. He sees people. Although he's not so secure himself, when he sees people in the streets, it fills him with a sense of superiority and security. Steve Johannes. That's the name people recognize him by, and it's caused him no problems so far.

He enters a coffe shop. It's a small joint in a sprawling city of New York. New York has always been bustling, filled with exotic and mysterious qualities for a boy who grew up in the country. There's David sitting at a table in a far corner. He always finds a secluded place. His choice of location is ironic enough. A secluded place in
the busiest section of the area. Steve understood him. Maybe he wanted a good vantage point. An unnoticed spot where he gets a good view of all the people passing by. But does he know his peculiarity makes him so conspicuous?

"Yo, David," Steve greets him as he sits himself down.
"Steve," David looks nonchalant and self-absorbed as he greeted him.
Pretentious bastard, Steve thought. David threw a paper in front of him with a snap of his wrist. It was a regular A3 paper with a crease in the middle. Steve shivered inside, but he gave every effort to maintain a calm facade.

"Here's the blueprint. Take a look at it. We gotta be delicate and careful, ya hear? If we pull this out to the letter there's no way we're getting caught," said David.

The piece of paper contained numbers, building names, and various time written in a sharp and ridiculously well organized handwriting. The paper had sprinkles of cigarette ashes on it. It looked like David's been studying it for a while before Steve got here.
Maybe he wanted to make a point that he's a wise fuck. Here he has planned a murder and a plan that contained every step of it. He just studied it in plain sight! Steve wasn't vexed, though. He knew how people can be self-conscious, and how busy they were worrying about projecting their own little images. He read it through in relative comfort.

"David," said Steve as he looked directly at David. He fixed his glasses on his nose and continued, "this is a damned good plan you got here."
"I told you. I've been planning it for a month, man. Know everything about him. The places he goes to, the girls he likes to fuck now and then, his habits, the whole shebang. All we need is determination and the balls to follow it through."
"Let me make some revisions though. Hammers are better than knives in this scenario."

David cackled, throwing his head back, baring his throat. He then coughed hard a few times. He seemed to be in pain for that brief moment. He quickly recovered and remarked with welled up eyes from coughing and amusement.

"It's you who want this bastard dead. You choose the weapon to kill him with. It might as well be a crossbow. Iceman shit, ya know?"

Steve folded the paper hastily and put it deep in his pockets. He picked up his cell phone and got up to leave.

"David, you shitty bastard. Choose a more secure place next time. There might be people here who are more than willing to rat on us," said Steve staring down at him with a side glance and visible irritation. "Worked every time, though," David replied shrugging his shoulders and turning his palms upward. He showed no facial expression except for a flash of sarcasm.
"So... this Thursday?"
"This Thursday."
"I'll meet you at Jerry's at 8 a.m.?"
"You know my car, homie."

Steve walked out onto the street. The air was stuffy, and people looked even stranger and weirder. He patted his right pocket to feel the folded paper. It was there. He put his earbuds into his ears and played a smooth jazz he's been listening to nowadays.
"Shit," he uttered under his breath, and walked on in a daze.





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