|Blogs > rm_doublewood12 > slideways|
work hard, play hard... it's a saying, it's a saying.
sip scotch, suck smoke. smile and be a part of the world. be a good part, be a part that in some small way, matters.
sip and a suck, next thought. thought, thought, thought, thought, what i thought was this; who is out there? where are they? will i ever get the chance to meet them?
so i killed 14 people tonite.
the first one was a young boy. six, i think. he just wanted to play with his lincoln logs.
the second one was nine. i remember his face, so full of laughter and smiles. he got along well with everyone... he could run, and run fast...
the third and fourth were together. they seemed like two parts of the same person. one was four, the other, twelve. innocence and the beginning of knowledge. one felt the right thing, felt it. the other thought that he knew the right thing, but was wrong. they both laughed, til they couldn't.
the fifth was a young man, seemingly. he was a believer, he loved life... well, that was short lived.
sixth, well, i never got a good look. just gone.
the seventh one that i took, hovever, seemed to be a nice guy. friends with all, didn't judge and had not just a few friends. he was a moron, though. didn't see it coming.
number eight was just this kid who wanted to be more. he wanted to be bigger, stronger, better looking and more popular. he wanted everything that everyone has always wanted. it was the easiest so far.
nine was a bit of a problem. i liked him. a bit egotistic, but that is not always a bad thing. old enough to know better , but still young enough not to care. we were friends. taking him affected me a bit.
with ten, i can hardly remember who he was. pretty much just emotion. angry and alone. he deserved to go. definately damaged goods. and good riddance.
the eleventh was a hero. he didn't go easy. put up quite a fight. he almost killed the man that killed him... almost. it almost ended at eleven, but i was a bit too strong.
number twelve. number twelve... twelve. just to look at that word, that person, twelve, is unnatural. a romontic to be sure, he was. greedy and a bit selfish, so he seemed to me. he played a good game, though. not good enough to save him, he had to go.
lucky thirteen. a good omen or bad i don't know. a man with honor, a man with regret. someone i actually got to know because he had something to say... a loner like myself that could actually ask me a real question. could answer an honest question. he smiled at the things that most people frown at, and cried when it wasn't required. he had to go...
and so we come to fourteen.
well, that's me. it's me as much as all the others are. start fresh, start new. big smile and a huge sigh. let's get started.