Appetite Ruining Kebab
Radio Bob Approved
- Joined
- Jan 3, 2022
- Messages
- 153
- Thread Author
- #1
//
this is a short writing piece for a character who's already dead
ive been busy and ive been wanting to write it for a while. i know its been some time & its not tradition to write 'bios' like this but i wanted to share what i had. its been a ride and a half in just these two months alone. by no means over, though.
enjoy
//
this is a short writing piece for a character who's already dead
ive been busy and ive been wanting to write it for a while. i know its been some time & its not tradition to write 'bios' like this but i wanted to share what i had. its been a ride and a half in just these two months alone. by no means over, though.
enjoy
//
"You realize all I've done is give a voice to something everyone has been thinking about lately, don't you? I thought you slugservants were smarter than to shoot the messenger." - He whined with nonchalant disdain. He should've feared for his life, should've been on his knees, but all humanity evaporated under the corrosive influence of narcotics - the only thing left of him was some cheap class clown act everyone knew him by. His face was as blank as his mind.
"<:: Well, I'm sorry - that's just how it is... ::>"
"<:: Goodbye. ::>"
He thought of his mother. It didn't hurt to think of her anymore. But before that, he traced his steps back - where did his road to damnation begin? What drove 'Pepé Gerard' to taking the plunge into that darkness he'd been toying with for a while, knowing what would come of it? As a hopeless determinist, it was his duty to relieve the irrational nagging in his head, certainly more worthwhile than trying to change the course of current events. A few seconds was all he needed.
Maybe it was the day he struck his first pack of cigarettes, all those years ago. Her passing gave him the push to live his life squarely; and get his daily fix through cancer sticks instead of the ironically healthier alternatives he was legally troubled for indulging. Every time he thought of her, he thought of lighting a pack - it was easier to hurt himself than it was to shed tears like a little boy.
It could've been the day he bullshitted his new occupiers with a fake identity. Jean-Rémi Bouchard just reminded him of too many painful memories. To nobody's surprise, he couldn't escape who he was. Trying made it worse.
No, it definitely was that labor camp sentence in Algeria. Nothing to eat but headcrabs, nobody to talk to but Vortigaunts; what God cursed him with the inclination to make a business out of it? He should've been rotting in his preordained misery, not chasing a false vestige of happiness through the bastardized myth of the self-made entrepreneur. He imagined hitting himself in the head just then to ease the pain of the thought.
.... 00:01 ....
When was his last chance to get off this wild ride?
Probably that night in Geneva.
Those beautiful green eyes staring right into his soul - they had no right to pierce the way they did; these were the pupils of a lying, conniving, no-good loyalist bitch. It wasn't fair that in that one fleeting moment of intensity, they became the conduit through which God spoke to him. They shone for once with genuine feeling; the light within them was the doorway to better things, to forgiveness, peace of mind, and all the joy of life. That was the clearest indication to change his ways; Why did it have to come so late? Why did it have to be through her?
He closed that door when he pulled the trigger. He thought a terminal illness made him a dead man walking already. He only realized much deader he could get when the stomach sickness and the sleepless nights began, and her last words wouldn't stop echoing in his daily thoughts.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
.... 00:02 ....
He heard the click of the gun's safety. It brought him back to reality. He still had time to say a few things to whoever was listening, while he could.
MADAGASCAR IS A VORTIGAUNT ISLAND.
MICROWAVES GIVE YOU CANCER.
EAST AFRICA STILL HAS A FEW COMBINE CITIES.
BERNARD MULLIGAN IS A-
.... 00:03 .....
Fin.
DEDICATED TO:
Kanto, the inheritor of his property. @Eviction Notice
Tar'Galla, the inheritor of his ambitions. @MelonHeadzzz
Suleyman, the inheritor of his rambling philosophizing. @Aizer
And everyone else I had fun with.
1983-2018.
