Landfill (360 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.8 on 5 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by <samiamin02.at.hotmail.com> (View user info) at 2004-09-28 09:34:19 EDT
Kill Joy's. What a stupid name for a bar, I thought. Then again, what an appropriate name. Those lights are very pretty, the way they stream together into one long blurry line. What an extremely unfortunate night.
* * * * * * * * * *
I crouched behind the couch, breathing heavily. I was astounded that a simple card had produced such a savage and swift response. The man had seemingly erupted from his seat, in much the same way I imagine a bullet flying forth from the muzzle of a shotgun, launching his chair backwards to shatter against the wall. The other three occupants of the table had been laid out on the floor, each flying in a different direction.
Tom, the 270 pound man, a mountain of muscle covered in a deceptive outer shell of soft and spongy flesh, stalked around the remnants of the poker game, slowly coming towards me.
I was quickly running out time. Adrenaline was pumping through me at near toxic levels. Each second I spent cowering behind the couch cost me an extra few feet of maneuvering space. I wasn't even sure I could out-maneuver Tom after seeing him explode out his seat.
I cast about, looking for a weapon, an escape route or a savior. Somehow, I was sure that superman wasn't on his way, and the only exit was behind Senor Beast. Then, I saw it. The authentic, 9 inch-long combat knife mounted on the wall. The jagged teeth and razor sharp edge glinting dully in the low light of the room, faintly reflecting the advancing form of Tom.
It was now or never. I took one more look at him, still steadily pounding closer.
Springing up, I launched myself past the couch to the area where Julian lay, moaning still from knocking his head against the fireplace. Not even bothering to see if he was alright, I stepped up on the edge of the fireplace, grasped the hilt of the large hunting knife, and pulled with all my strength.
Now, in my mind, I saw myself ripping the knife (really, it resembled more of a short sword than a knife) off the wall, spinning with an acrobat's agility and warding off the football sized fists Tom would be throwing my way. Of course I would do this with the ability of a trained swordsman, and Tom's anger would be quelled. Quite an ingenious plan if you were to ask me at the time... I think I would answer you differently were you to ask me now.
In reality, as soon as I gripped the knife, I knew something was wrong. I plowed ahead anyway. I heard Tom quicken his strides now that he saw I might soon be armed and somewhat dangerous (for I was anything but at 5'10" and 156 pounds).
With the hilt firmly in my hands, I yanked backwards, while at the same time pivoting on my right foot, meaning to use the momentum of the vicious pull to spin me around.
I succeeded in spinning halfway around. My arm, still gripping the dagger tightly, stopped my swivel. To my horror, I realized the modern-looking, medieval weapon was securely bolted, by way of two inch thick bolts, to the wall.
Pain exploded in my right temple. Bright lights flashed painfully before my eyes. The floor accelerated at an alarming rate to smack into my face. I felt my rib cage collapse as a steel-toed boot blasted the air from my lungs.
The pain faded slowly. So did the lights. I'm pretty sure the beating went on for many minutes before one of the other occupants managed to encourage Tom that the cops were probably on their way, and they should probably leave.
As I lay there, I reflected on my stupidity, the instigator of this ass-kicking. I had been doing this for years, and never once had any of the people I played with suspected a thing. It was an art form, and I had perfected it. Maybe I could have tried to conceal it more thoroughly, but I was in hurry when I left the house a couple hours earlier. I hated being late to these things because if you aren't on time, you lose the one advantage you have when you play cards in back alleys for big payoffs; the ability to stack the "playing field" against the other players.
I felt arms grab me at this point, and I was sure I was going to start feeling dull thuds as more blows landed on my broken body. I felt secure in the knowledge that at that point, no matter the degree of ass-kicking I received, I would be unable to feel anymore pain.
Something was shoved over my face. My body was lifted and removed from the room. I barely felt the breeze as I exited the building, though I seemed to recall a decent gusting from when I had walked in two hours previous. A car door opened and I was put face up in the rear of the vehicle. The door closed and I felt the car jerk forward.
We drove for what seemed like hours. I saw a blurry face hovering over my head. It was speaking I think. Asking me what happened, I believe. Don't know at this point, don't care.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Maybe it's been ten minutes, maybe twenty. I'm not sure," I think to myself as the lights in my field of vision slow down to a crawl, each distinguishing itself into an individual street lamp. Sluggishly, my mind deduces that the car has stopped, mainly due to the fact I have been staring at the same light for a few minutes. Hearing a heated argument, or the sounds of a heated argument, taking place outside the window closest to my head, I try to position my head in such a way as to see outside.
Feeling has returned somewhat to my body, much to the regret of my bruised nerves. The dull ache I had been feeling sharpens somewhat. I notice the blurred edges around everything I see are more defined, look more real.
I try to take a deep breath and nearly faint from the pain that shoots out in every direction, originating from my chest and the ruins of my lungs and spreading down to my toes. Everything is on fire.
I look up as the door opens; the face is still blurry, non-distinguishable. I feel my broken body removed from the car. Trying to make sense of my situation, I attempt to open my mouth and ask a question. Halfway through the process, my mouth forgets what my mind told it to say. For some reason, this encourages the person holding me up to slap my face rather painfully.
I hear someone mutter something that sounds like goodbye, and feel the wind rushing past my face.
After all that I have been through tonight, I expected it to end rather painfully. But instead of my bound form meeting the rocks at the bottom of a 1000 foot drop, I land on a semi-wet, viscous surface. It really actually feels kind of nice, kind of like swimming in a pool of Jello.
I manage to flip over on my back, as I was finding it hard to breathe through the liquid. I look up and realize I really haven't fallen all that far. I can see the sky, or a section of the sky, framed above me like I was lying down inside a picture frame, looking at the outside world from inside the picture.
I feel myself begin to sink slowly. I tell myself it still feel rather nice, the pseudo-anti-gravity-ness of my body. As I watch the stars twinkle in the farthest reaches of heaven, a waterfall of viscous, dark material begins to pour over the side of my picture frame world. My body does not rise with the liquid, but rather slowly gets buried.
One of the faces hovering over my new universe lowers a hollowed out tube in my general vicinity. He slowly works it into my mouth. I try and thank him because it makes breathing a little easier, now that my head is almost fully submerged in the primordial goop-like substance quickly filling up my world.
As the cement covers my head fully, I experience a moment of frightening clarity, "I have just become part of a landfill. Fucking mafia."
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-05-17 19:08:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
This is pretty good, however...
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2005-11-01 19:52:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Whoa.
Submitted by Williams_2004 (user info) at 2005-05-10 09:44:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hey I liked this, good story. Remember your spelling and gramma thou.
Submitted by mikethescottish (user info) at 2004-09-28 14:26:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What a horrible way to die. Good post, mind.
Submitted by kiketta (user info) at 2004-09-28 14:05:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good job! Pay closer attention to spelling and grammar in the future though. Liked the story alot.