Post by cureforthesickness on Apr 1, 2007 9:51:09 GMT -5
Grass grows elegantly all around, neatly and uniformly in bright green shades. Normally, this would be a happy scene, but the crowd that has gathered on this grass seems anything but joyous. The morning sun still shines down, leaving everything in an elegant glow. People have gathered into a circle around an unidentified source, all weeping and grieving. In the horizon, lines of gray sit, the shades of tombstones. The people all stand in somber silence, various shades of black on each. The men are all in uniform black suits, the woman in black dresses with their faces covered in veils. The crowd parts like a sea as a young woman makes her way through. Her hazel eyes leak as tears flow down his face, onto her chin, then dripping down onto her collar. In her hands, she holds a white envelope, sealed and pressed, but no address or markings on it. She approaches the center of the crowd where a large wooden box sits upon a pedestal. At the foot of the pedestal are various flowers, reeves, and other decorations, all holding the same somber tone as the gathered group. The girl approaches the centerpiece and instantly falls to her knees at it. She holds the envelope in her hand tightly, just looking at it and tears flow freely. She seems distraught at the general situation, but particularly confused by the contents of this unopened envelope. She gathers herself enough that she can rise back to feet, only to bend over and place the envelope with the display of flowers. She stands back up and backs away as tears continue to flow from her eyelids as if the flood gates had been opened. From behind her comes a familiar looking man in a trench coat.
How did he go..?
The weeping female turns around and when she sees the man in the trench coat, she instantly falls into his arms in tears. Wrapping her arms tightly around the average sized man, she seems unwilling to ever let him go. After several moments of the embrace, she finally releases her grip and backs away. She looks on as Obo stands before her
Girl: I didn’t think you were going to make it.. I haven’t seen you in months..
Obo: I’ve been busy. How did he go?
Girl: Peacefully. He died in his sleep..
Obo: What did he die from?
Girl: Overdose.. Pain pills..
Obo: That’s how he would’ve wanted to go..
Girl (busting out in tears again): Why? Why did he have to go? I loved him.. Why did he have to go?
Obo: Everyone has to go eventually..
The girls tears over come her once more and she falls into Obo’s arms for another hug. She wraps her arms around him tightly as he stands still, just staring into space. His glance is broken when the shriek of an elderly woman is heard.
Woman: Rebecca, get away from him. He’s no good. If it weren’t for him, John would still be alive..
The hazel eyed girl releases and steps away, her head looking towards the ground in shame. Obo turns his head quickly to see a rather pudgy woman standing before him in a black dress. Her face isn’t covered in any way and she seems unfazed by her general surroundings. Obo looks at the woman with an uneasy look and sighs as she begins to holler at him.
Woman: How DARE you show your face here! It’s your fault that John is dead. If it weren’t for you, he would have never got into all that devil worshipping non-sense and drug use. Before he met you he was a good Church going boy. I told his father that you Jews were no good..
Obo: What? Minka, I used to love you like the mom I never had. Why would you say something like that to me? I didn’t force Johnny to do anything. He was doing most of that stuff before I even met him..
Woman: He was an innocent twelve year old boy who listened to classical music, then he met you and started listening to death metal, dyed his hair, came home with piercing and tattoos. You’re the devil!
Obo: I’m the devil? At least I can act fucking civil when the time calls for it.. I can stop taking pills and snorting coke, you’ll still be a fat obnoxious cunt.
Woman (gasp): HOW DARE YOU!!
Obo: What’s wrong Minka? Fucking bitch, You want me to hold a civil tongue?
Obo sticks his hand into his mouth and grabs his tongue.
Obo: Gow fugh yov elve en eh ash! Don’t understand? I said go fuck yourself in the ass, fucking stupid cunt. I’ll see you later Beck..
Obo starts to walk away but from behind him comes the middle aged gray haired man that escorted Rebecca in. He grabs Obo by the shoulders and spins him around. The man swings high with a punch, but Obo ducks. Obo stands back up and headbutts the man, sending him down to the ground. Obo leaves quickly, hopping into his car and driving away, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust to remember him.
The elderly therapist of Obo sits at his desk filing papers and writing random tidbits as usual.
So I just went and seen Johnny for the last time. Even in death, I think he went out high as a kite. Crazy son of a bitch.
Doctor Baldwin looks up from his paper and looks towards Obo, who is still in the same clothes he was wearing at the cemetery, complete with trench coat. He looks at Obo for a moment with a slight smirk on his face before looking back down at his papers and scribbling a couple of words down. He then looks back up and speaks.
Doctor: Phillip, I think there’s a serious problem. You don’t express your emotions correctly.. Death should bring grief, not laughter. Your friend John sounded like a great guy. You should be mourning his death, not laughing. You should be at his funeral, not here..
Obo: His mom’s a lunatic. His step dad tried to attack me. I headbutted him. I think it’s best I stay clear of them for a while.
Doctor: You attacked someone at your best friend’s funeral??
Obo: No, I defended myself. He attacked me..
Doctor: Still..
Obo: Doc, let me tell you a story. July two thousand three. It’s upwards of a hundred degrees. My buddy Tim rolls up to my house and he’s got Johnny in the front seat. They tell me to come with them, and my trailer had no air conditioning, so I go. We’re rolling down the interstate and me and Tim are talking. Johnny, meanwhile, is sitting by the passenger door and he’s scratching the hell out of himself. His arms, his chest, his balls, wherever. Not like, “hey, I’ve got a bug bite” itching, but trying to rip into his skin. I ask him if he’s okay, and he says nothing, just keeps digging at himself. I ask him again, and again, no response. One more time I asked him, and this time he yells. “STOP THE TRUCK”. Tim hits the breaks and we stop, right in the middle of the interstate. Johnny hops out of the truck and starts pissin.
Doctor: He had to urinate?
Obo: Let me finish. So he’s pissin. He’s pissin all over the place. Up off the side of the bridge and everything. Pissin on cars that are passing. Tim’s freaking out, because Johnny’s got his pecker hanging out and he’s just pissin ALL OVER THE PLACE. He finally finishes pissin and hops back in the truck. We start to take off, and he takes off his shirt. We figure “hey, it’s hot out here” so we don’t say anything. Then he takes off his pants. We’re driving down the road and this dude’s sitting here getting naked. He gets down to his boxers and finally stops, but only because he gets distracted. We pass one of those signs advertising restaurants and Johnny yells again to stop. We stop, and he yells back to go to Long John Silvers. We get going again and get into this small ass hillbilly town, with nothing but a Long John Silvers. We pull into the parking lot and get out. Johnny wait’s a minute, then he hops out and runs inside Long John Silvers. We’re all inside, me and Tim go to the front counter and start to order, and Johnny starts kicking stuff and throwing stuff everywhere. The manager yells at him to stop and he just turns around and tells the manager to fuck off. The manager grabs the phone and starts to call the cops, so me and Tim dart. Johnny grabs someone’s food and comes out to the truck.
Doctor: What’s the point?
Obo: Well, we’re in the truck, we’re trying to get the hell out of dodge before the cops get there, and Johnny’s sitting by the passenger door, in his boxers still, just laughing his ass off. I ask him what’s so funny and he turns to me in the calmest voice I’ve ever heard from him and says “sometimes, you just gotta shake shit up.”. It’s 1:30, I gotta go get my baby girl out of preschool. I’ll be back for my normal Thursday appointment. Thanks for your time Doc.
Doctor: No problem, that’s what I’m here for.. Remember Phil, don’t sweat the small stuff..
Sermon to Miguel
Life, death, procreation.. It’s an interesting concept. As one person leaves, another enters to replace him. You’re a year late, Miguel. You’ve been replaced. There’s new jobbers to get the tar beat out of them. Miguel, you’re trying to make this all suspenseful, riding off into the sunset and all that jazz. Leaving your current life behind for greener pastures. The only problem is, you’ve got nothing to leave behind. To leave something behind, you had to have something to start with. Your accomplishment is being a joke and a human punching bag. Anyone can do that. Look at Percy. Miguel Sanchez, you are but a stepping stone to greatness for me. Roadblock would be a good term, but a roadblock brings something to a complete stop, you’re not even going to slow me down. I’m destined for greatness. You’re simply a detour in my road to the Corrupt Reverend. I’ll see you at some rat hole indy show. Mejor de suerte en su futuro de falsificación mi amigo.
How did he go..?
The weeping female turns around and when she sees the man in the trench coat, she instantly falls into his arms in tears. Wrapping her arms tightly around the average sized man, she seems unwilling to ever let him go. After several moments of the embrace, she finally releases her grip and backs away. She looks on as Obo stands before her
Girl: I didn’t think you were going to make it.. I haven’t seen you in months..
Obo: I’ve been busy. How did he go?
Girl: Peacefully. He died in his sleep..
Obo: What did he die from?
Girl: Overdose.. Pain pills..
Obo: That’s how he would’ve wanted to go..
Girl (busting out in tears again): Why? Why did he have to go? I loved him.. Why did he have to go?
Obo: Everyone has to go eventually..
The girls tears over come her once more and she falls into Obo’s arms for another hug. She wraps her arms around him tightly as he stands still, just staring into space. His glance is broken when the shriek of an elderly woman is heard.
Woman: Rebecca, get away from him. He’s no good. If it weren’t for him, John would still be alive..
The hazel eyed girl releases and steps away, her head looking towards the ground in shame. Obo turns his head quickly to see a rather pudgy woman standing before him in a black dress. Her face isn’t covered in any way and she seems unfazed by her general surroundings. Obo looks at the woman with an uneasy look and sighs as she begins to holler at him.
Woman: How DARE you show your face here! It’s your fault that John is dead. If it weren’t for you, he would have never got into all that devil worshipping non-sense and drug use. Before he met you he was a good Church going boy. I told his father that you Jews were no good..
Obo: What? Minka, I used to love you like the mom I never had. Why would you say something like that to me? I didn’t force Johnny to do anything. He was doing most of that stuff before I even met him..
Woman: He was an innocent twelve year old boy who listened to classical music, then he met you and started listening to death metal, dyed his hair, came home with piercing and tattoos. You’re the devil!
Obo: I’m the devil? At least I can act fucking civil when the time calls for it.. I can stop taking pills and snorting coke, you’ll still be a fat obnoxious cunt.
Woman (gasp): HOW DARE YOU!!
Obo: What’s wrong Minka? Fucking bitch, You want me to hold a civil tongue?
Obo sticks his hand into his mouth and grabs his tongue.
Obo: Gow fugh yov elve en eh ash! Don’t understand? I said go fuck yourself in the ass, fucking stupid cunt. I’ll see you later Beck..
Obo starts to walk away but from behind him comes the middle aged gray haired man that escorted Rebecca in. He grabs Obo by the shoulders and spins him around. The man swings high with a punch, but Obo ducks. Obo stands back up and headbutts the man, sending him down to the ground. Obo leaves quickly, hopping into his car and driving away, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust to remember him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The elderly therapist of Obo sits at his desk filing papers and writing random tidbits as usual.
So I just went and seen Johnny for the last time. Even in death, I think he went out high as a kite. Crazy son of a bitch.
Doctor Baldwin looks up from his paper and looks towards Obo, who is still in the same clothes he was wearing at the cemetery, complete with trench coat. He looks at Obo for a moment with a slight smirk on his face before looking back down at his papers and scribbling a couple of words down. He then looks back up and speaks.
Doctor: Phillip, I think there’s a serious problem. You don’t express your emotions correctly.. Death should bring grief, not laughter. Your friend John sounded like a great guy. You should be mourning his death, not laughing. You should be at his funeral, not here..
Obo: His mom’s a lunatic. His step dad tried to attack me. I headbutted him. I think it’s best I stay clear of them for a while.
Doctor: You attacked someone at your best friend’s funeral??
Obo: No, I defended myself. He attacked me..
Doctor: Still..
Obo: Doc, let me tell you a story. July two thousand three. It’s upwards of a hundred degrees. My buddy Tim rolls up to my house and he’s got Johnny in the front seat. They tell me to come with them, and my trailer had no air conditioning, so I go. We’re rolling down the interstate and me and Tim are talking. Johnny, meanwhile, is sitting by the passenger door and he’s scratching the hell out of himself. His arms, his chest, his balls, wherever. Not like, “hey, I’ve got a bug bite” itching, but trying to rip into his skin. I ask him if he’s okay, and he says nothing, just keeps digging at himself. I ask him again, and again, no response. One more time I asked him, and this time he yells. “STOP THE TRUCK”. Tim hits the breaks and we stop, right in the middle of the interstate. Johnny hops out of the truck and starts pissin.
Doctor: He had to urinate?
Obo: Let me finish. So he’s pissin. He’s pissin all over the place. Up off the side of the bridge and everything. Pissin on cars that are passing. Tim’s freaking out, because Johnny’s got his pecker hanging out and he’s just pissin ALL OVER THE PLACE. He finally finishes pissin and hops back in the truck. We start to take off, and he takes off his shirt. We figure “hey, it’s hot out here” so we don’t say anything. Then he takes off his pants. We’re driving down the road and this dude’s sitting here getting naked. He gets down to his boxers and finally stops, but only because he gets distracted. We pass one of those signs advertising restaurants and Johnny yells again to stop. We stop, and he yells back to go to Long John Silvers. We get going again and get into this small ass hillbilly town, with nothing but a Long John Silvers. We pull into the parking lot and get out. Johnny wait’s a minute, then he hops out and runs inside Long John Silvers. We’re all inside, me and Tim go to the front counter and start to order, and Johnny starts kicking stuff and throwing stuff everywhere. The manager yells at him to stop and he just turns around and tells the manager to fuck off. The manager grabs the phone and starts to call the cops, so me and Tim dart. Johnny grabs someone’s food and comes out to the truck.
Doctor: What’s the point?
Obo: Well, we’re in the truck, we’re trying to get the hell out of dodge before the cops get there, and Johnny’s sitting by the passenger door, in his boxers still, just laughing his ass off. I ask him what’s so funny and he turns to me in the calmest voice I’ve ever heard from him and says “sometimes, you just gotta shake shit up.”. It’s 1:30, I gotta go get my baby girl out of preschool. I’ll be back for my normal Thursday appointment. Thanks for your time Doc.
Doctor: No problem, that’s what I’m here for.. Remember Phil, don’t sweat the small stuff..
Sermon to Miguel
Life, death, procreation.. It’s an interesting concept. As one person leaves, another enters to replace him. You’re a year late, Miguel. You’ve been replaced. There’s new jobbers to get the tar beat out of them. Miguel, you’re trying to make this all suspenseful, riding off into the sunset and all that jazz. Leaving your current life behind for greener pastures. The only problem is, you’ve got nothing to leave behind. To leave something behind, you had to have something to start with. Your accomplishment is being a joke and a human punching bag. Anyone can do that. Look at Percy. Miguel Sanchez, you are but a stepping stone to greatness for me. Roadblock would be a good term, but a roadblock brings something to a complete stop, you’re not even going to slow me down. I’m destined for greatness. You’re simply a detour in my road to the Corrupt Reverend. I’ll see you at some rat hole indy show. Mejor de suerte en su futuro de falsificación mi amigo.
