Stream of Consciousness: A Note

Posted: April 7, 2014 in Random
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A Note: Stream of Consciousness

I have no reason, no particular need. It’s late, and I… I cannot remember. But know this! I have been born, and in being born, I have a name…But it’s late… The fire inside my room falls short again, and goes out. How will I ever find more kerosene? I won’t. Needless to say however, I don’t need it anymore; it’s morning. I strap my gun to my thigh and keep moving east. The sun burns my eyes, but I don’t mind…

Now, tell me what I want to know, and don’t toy with me. I might have plenty of time to fuck with you, but you don’t. I’m sure in a few moments when time stands still, you’ll be moving again. Now, again, then again… I like these words. In fact, I like all words. Now tell me what I want to know, before mister .45 gets a little angry…

You wake up several hours later in an abandoned car park. However, I am still here and my gun is still pointed at your head. You still haven’t told me what I wanted to know…however, I haven’t told you what I wanted to know. I guess then, we’ll never know. I am writing this on this piece of paper, no other piece of paper will do. And no other bullet will do. In fact, I don’t want to know anything, I just want you to know that I’m going to kill you either way…

But I have no reason. Do you have reason? No? Then why are you here? And why is my gun pointed at your head? There must be a reason, unless… People just walk around waving guns in other people’s faces… but if that was true, then you know I would just shoot you now, right?

I pull the trigger, I don’t care anymore. As the slow chill finishes creeping along my spine, I feel better. Much better, it seems that all I needed was a little taste of death. The sweetest smell known to man, like a fine chocolate that makes your stomach turn…

Oh well, this letter is for you. My dead friend, hope you get it –hope it gets to you.

I turn off the tape recorder, and sit back down not knowing what any of that was about. “Oh well” I think, probably just another junkie leaving me messages. But why did I write that letter and to whom does it concern? Where the hell did I put my gum?

I wipe my gun clean of prints, and pick up the empty casings. Tomorrow I might regret this, but part of me just doesn’t seem to care. I complete the neurological scan and store what’s left of her memory on disk and prepare to leave. I’m about to put my hand on the handle and turn, when suddenly it hits me. Like a sharp knife stabbing at me, shouting “Hey you forgot me” the feeling is cold, quick… ruthless. I fall to the floor, clutching what’s left of my chest.

“Next time aim for my head.” “Yeah” I thought, but why waste that pretty little face of hers? My world goes black and I’m on the ground twitching like a maniac drug addict. All I can see now is a blurry reflection of my surroundings and this now previous event. A woman drops a tazer in front of me and cries. “You could have been something to me, but now… You’re just a mistake that needs to be forgotten and erased. I’ll use a knife for that one.

As I prepare to be carve into shreds by a mysterious woman, I began to think of my previous day dreams… I have no reason, no reason at all. And “Ugh” as the knife enters my abdomen I remember now, why I shouldn’t have taken this job in the first place. Oh well I think, I’ll be forgotten in a week.

 

 

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