My Old Friend Death

Reads: 229  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes when you brush with death you get away...

Submitted: January 09, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 09, 2009



My Old Friend Death
Everyone is suffering, begging for a measly scrap of bread. I swear it looks like they’re ready to kill each other over everything nowadays, world’s gone insane. I mean for crying out loud, when a man gets mugged for a measly ten dollars it’s a clear sign that us humans are all screwy in the head.
Things are good and people laugh, money in their pockets and they spend on fancy doodads they don’t need and they grin and they are a happy bunch. I was happy, I had nothing from the get go and I was happy.
I watched for years, them fancy automobiles and telephones and what not. I was just a kid, I had no one and I watched as everyone in the crowd cheered it on. I know why they did it; they are as alone as me, a lonely crowd.
People say a dog is a man’s best friend, when in truth its just ‘stuff’ in general that’s a man’s best friend. Now they are down to my level, its like they got a free sample of drugs and liked it too much, withdrawal is a bitch.
I’m the same; I watch as the streets fill with beggars at the docks looking for jobs, they look like rats all toppled over each other for the last piece of cheese. Finally he arrives, walking up to the approaching man with a smile I extend my hand, “ Benjamin at your service.”
He looks like one of the rich beggars, still wears a suit and plays pretend even though its obvious he’s as broke as the economy itself. He pulls out his payment, a golden watch and is about to make his demand when I put my hand up, “ Please don’t offer payment before saying what the job is, its not etiquette.”
Looks like he’s even having trouble giving the order, I can’t imagine this man actually taking a life. He’s going to chicken out, smirking at him I raise an eyebrow, “ Go home then, maybe you’ll grow yourself a pair of balls and do the job yourself.”
I begin to walk away when he beckons me back, not turning completely I await as he stutters out the name, “ Clive Molsker, he killed my wife and kids by getting rich.” So it was the usual, a job was a job so I walked up to him.
Extending my open palm I chuckled, “ You cry murder with a prick to the finger, I can only imagine if something truly tragic happened how you would react. I don’t want gold, money is useless so if you want him dead I only got one condition.”
He looks anxious; I suppose he should be considering the fact that in times like this I refute a golden watch. What I want is worth more than gold, “ Its simple really, when the time comes I want a favour from you. I won’t tell you what it is, do we have an accord?”
He looks puzzled; again he should for I am cryptic in nature. Money goes far but it runs out, people relied on it and look where it got them; depressed. I live by one rule, kill or be killed. In the long run a favour will go a lot further than a golden watch, blacks already suffered slavery to whites but humanity as a whole is suffering slavery to time.
No one to liberate us, God is the one who pulls the strings and yet He’s our only hope of salvation somehow, now that’s twisted. Why revel the creator of our slave master, its obvious that God created time so that we would be so distracted trying to keep up with it to realize we can be more.
I don’t got beef with the Almighty, just with the creations he dumped on this cesspit of a planet. The man is still thinking, my philosophy is if something’s worth doing then no thinking is required. Then he surprises me, “Deal, and if you find a diamond ring please return it to me.”
Its not about revenge at all, its about getting his property back but I don’t care. Walking away I feel the hilt of my knife on my belt, Molsker is a well known guy who engages into lots of illicit stuff, wouldn’t be surprised if he created some of it.
I stop in front of a large iron gate, one of the only independents to be tenfold as rich as he was before the depression started in the first place. Security is tight, this guy gets lots of death threats and word on the street is that all attempts on his life fail.
He may be rich but he sure ain’t fat, he’s fit as a horse and fights like them china men with fancy kicks and such. He’s a hell of a shot and his security is as rigid in its efficiency as a corpse, only much livelier.
That’s because they always try to sneak to him, sometimes the best solution is the direct one. The gates are locked; the guards are eying me so I wink at them, “ Why so tense gentlemen? Just admiring the fancy gate, makes a man wonder doesn’t it, is he trying to keep us out or is he trying to keep himself away from the suffering he’s imposed?”
The words unsettle them; brutal honesty has a tendency to do that to a coward. So I know now, if it comes down to it they won’t die for Molsker, good to know. One guard walking up to the gate asks, “ What you want?”
I smile politely, “ I want to kill Molsker, but I suppose most people walking these streets would give you the same answer. The question my friend is what do you want? What does it take to tip you over?”
He’s not sure how to answer, “ Open the gates friend, here’s my game plan. You’re going to open the gates and I will walk by you, into the manor and up into his study where I will stab him repeatedly. I will then walk out, head down the street and have a coffee with my uncle the constable.”
He’s not reaching for his pistol, “ You’re crazy you know that, why on earth would I let you kill my source of money?” I suppose I can’t blame the dullard for not seeing the answer that dangle right in front of his face like a carrot.
I make a money sign with my fingers, “ You get paid good I’m sure, but once your supplier is out of the way then the supplies are all yours. Why take a cake sample when you can have an entire cheesecake slice? Or maybe I made a mistake of judgement maybe you’re just another zombie of society after all.
I am hoping for some cooperation, truth be told I can’t handle the security task force, a good warrior only fights a battle he knows he can win. He’s convinced, “ Before you open the gate, spread the word so that your friends won’t be misguided into… limiting your new salary.”
The amazing thing about the depression is that everyone wants the same thing, money, and if you give even a peep of it even a priest will bend over. The word spreads like a wildfire, the boss left unaware of it all in his study reading Shakespeare no doubt.
The guard opens the gates; standing aside I nod politely and walk along the marble path weaving between two water fountains. Pushing the doors to the manor open I pull out my knife, everyone stands rigid and watches as I ascend to the second level.
I can see him through the French doors; legs crossed reading a fancy book with golden letters laden upon it. He doesn’t notice me, he had no reason to worry because he’s got an army at his… had an army at his disposal.
I open the door quietly, he still doesn’t notice, “ Its ironic isn’t it Mr Molsker that the money you use to hire protection is the money I used as an incentive to have you killed.” He looks up, dropping his book with fear filling his pupils, “ No”
I crack my neck, taking one step closer, “ No? No what Mr Molsker? You’re a businessman so you should understand this concept, if you fight a bull fairly it will shred you to pieces. To beat the bull you got to grab it by the balls, saw off its horns and gauge out its eyes.”
I take a step closer, he’s shaking in pure terror, “ No worries, I’m speaking metaphorically; you are a human, I will not grab you by the balls and you do not have horns for me to saw off.”
So he notices, his eyes narrow, as what truly scares him is what I didn’t say. I take a step closer, at this point he is not going to run, it’s too late for that. He’s not going to fight, we are face to face, “ So Mr Molsker, do you want me to gauge your eyes out before or after I stab you in the heart?”
I suppose I’ve toyed with him enough, stabbing the knife into his heart I watch as he gurgles blood out of his mouth. He falls to his knees, hands grasping the knife he looks into my eyes and knows, he knows that not even he can afford to bribe death to spare him.
I kneel down, pulling the knife out as I hear steps from behind me. Turning I watch as the guard from the gate points his pistol at me, cocks the safety off, “ I understand friend, you think I will take the money. Make sure you kill me for good, its not a good idea to wound what you can’t kill.”
He pulls the trigger, squish; the bullet goes between my eyes and blows my brains all over Mr Molsker, my corpse falls to the ground, my body is dead. Like I said, favours go farther than money, I feel the sensation once more as my spirit enters its new host.
I open my new eyes, looking into the mirror to see myself wearing a fancy suit and standing behind me is death riding his pale horse. I smirk at him, “ Looks like I evaded you yet again old friend, I suppose I’ll see you later.”

© Copyright 2017 malparsonia. All rights reserved.

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by malparsonia

USAF Teachers

Book / War and Military

The Realms Of Islodoxia

Book / Fan Fiction

It's In The Moment

Short Story / Other

Popular Tags