Marijuana.com

Stewpad

DISCLAIMER: If you are offended or disturbed by graphic and violent literature, then please read no further. For those with the stomach and perhaps a slight penchant for violence, read on, bro.

Right before a nervous breakdown, there is a final event which marks the transition from sanity to insanity. It could be anything - A parking ticket, a power outage, or any other minor nuisance which, on a brighter, much saner day, may furrow your brow but ultimately allow you continue on with the daily burden of life. True, it is a long road to becoming certifiably psycho, but once you reach the end, life is blissfully blurred with a surreal tinge. It is a beautiful transition, honestly, from sane to insane - Your temples relax, breathing eases, and all the stress-filled tension which pushed you to and past the brink of all logical thinking simply recedes until you feel.. nothing. No worrying about the future, no remorse for the past, there is just the hollow present.

And now, repeatedly rocking in my cramped three by five cubicle, cradling a small revolver in both shaking hands, I have reached this point.

I peeked over my barren grey wall and silently observed the endless sea of co-workers before me, barely noticing that one eye was twitching in synch with my sporadic heartbeat as I did so. They milled about in a never-ending continuation of their five day work routine, mindlessly punching commands into their keyboards while yammering into their headsets, a few lounging at the water cooler with 'Omni-Tech' stenciled deep into the wall above.

I focused my attention back to my gun, noting how sleek and shiny the black barrel was, turning it over and over, like a curious and eager child. Each rotation drudged forth a twisted satisfaction that I couldn't quite comprehend, yet felt right and good in some way. I suppose examining the gun wasn't what painted a sickening grimace on my sweat-soaked face, it was knowing what I was going to do with it that did the trick. That made my vacant, starry eyes open wider and the sardonic grin to spread from cheek to cheek. Knowing that soon, I would pull the trigger on someone, anyone, maybe even multiple people should I be lucky enough, the blood splattering on the walls in thick clumps, the screams and confusion and widespread panic as I pulled the trigger again and again and again and -

"What the hell?"

I looked up, startled, and found a familiar entity standing before me. It was Brian Harris, a customer service represenative, green notebook tucked under one arm and number 2 pencil pinned behind his left ear. While dealing with clientelle, Brian always beamed a confident and disarming smile that, until now, had never faltered. However, upon laying eyes on me, his charming smirk had quickly transformed into a frowning face of disenchanted horror, a look I promised I'd never forget as I raised the gun and shot him in the face.

Through the mouth, to be exact, the bullet oblitherating each tooth in his cavity free smile and caving in his fleshy pink gums. A hole roughly the size of a large man's fist had been punched where the back of his skull used to be. Both pencil and notebook flew into the air along with his own body, the force sweeping his feet from under him, blood blanketing the air like a misty red fog as his lifeless corpse struck the ground.

Instantly, the office became an anarchist's dreamworld, people screaming and scattering everywhere, knocking each other into walls and over furnishings and onto the floor, trampling over the fallen in a vain attempt to reach the building's exit points. The water cooler had been overturned, its liquid contents saturating the carpet in such a way that my estranged mind registered the water to look like gallons and gallons of crimson red blood.

I stood and fired, picking off two more co-workers as they fled in a brillant flash of white light. One was a woman who dealt with company finances, now sprawled motionless over a desk, the other I did not recognize nor care about.

"Oh my God, he has a gun!" I saw one person, Jamal, shout as he bolted past my cubicle. Without hesitation, practically on instinct, I fired two rounds at him. The first bullet went astray, biting into the back of a random person unlucky enough to step in front of him. The second sheared across the top of his head, making his scalp resemble a bloody toupe put halfway on. He immediately dropped to both knees, screeching in pain-laced agony, swatting at the top of his head to cover the exposed brain.

I whirled around, arms outstretched, pointing the weapon towards the other half of the room which I had neglected to fire upon until this point. With another squeeze of the trigger I exterminated an overweight co-worker named Larry, exploding his chest like I had shot out a dynamite stick lodged behind his ribs. I aimed at someone closing in on the exit staircase, a person whom I shared a brief and menial conversation with on the elevator at the week's beginning. I pulled the trigger, ready to extinguish their life like I had extinguished my conscience, sanity, and soul when the muted click of the empty barrel prevented me from doing so.

Shouting obscenities the likes of which I had never dreamed of stating in my workplace, I fumbled around my pocket and retrieved a fist-full of fresh bullets. Screams still reverberating from all sides, I popped the barrel and re-loaded, letting the remainder of bullets drop from my trembling grasp to the blood-stained floor.

Blood? My mind asked itself inquisitively. There shouldn't be..

My thoughts trailed off as my eyesight went red. Blood covered everything I saw, dousing the the walls and floor, dripping off the ceiling in loud audiable splats. Blood exploding from the cracks in the file cabinets and desk drawers, blood seeping in through the windows, running down the stenciled words that spelled 'Omni-Tech'. Even outside, the sky had taken crimson shade of red, puffy dark clouds resembling blood clots high above. Blood, everywhere, everywhere I looked, blood.

"Arrggh!" I shouted, blasting apart the face of another unknown employee at nearly point blank range. His blood added to the humongous collage of red that had overtaken my vision. "Die! Die!"

I shot four more people, though my hands were so spastic at this point that they caused my aim to inflict little more then arm and shoulder wounds. I clicked the empty barrel three more times, not even noticing that I had drained my firearm of its life-taking abilities. I hit the ground without thinking, and frantically scooped up the dropped bullets on all fours.

By the time I had re-loaded, everyone had cleared out.

I stared at the empty third floor, still drenched in blood, the walls seemingly expanding and contracting, as though they were breathing. The room began spinning, and I realized that I was now fully ensnared in my self-induced delerium. Staring at Brian Harris' half-blow off head and still body, I knew there was only way out of this nightmare world.

I cocked the hammer and put the gun to my temple, squeezing my eyes shut as I squeezed the trigger twice as hard.

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"The best way to control people is not to want to control them in the first place."

 

vaya

pardon me i have to go cry now

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I Wish For Peace Between The Races Someday We Shall All Be One
Coming To The Surface There's Fire All Around But This Is An Illusion

frep45

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Hi!

NEWBSMOKER

get some help

Stewpad

Haha. Sorry if it's too graphic for everyone. I wrote it after seeing Falling Down starring Micheal Douglas, and borrowed a little imagery from Stephen King novels. It's good to know I can still invoke such strong responses with my writing.

 

SmokerForPeace

That's gruesome man. Really dark but extremely well written. You told the story perfectly, hopefully it's not a fantasy of yours

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Cosmic Charley how do you do?
Truckin' in style along the avenue
Dumdeedumdee doodley doo
Go on home, your mama's calling you

Stewpad

Thanks, man. It's told through the eyes of a psychopath, so I was just writing in the character of one. Hence the dark overtone, and hence the lack of overall emotion, forethought, or sympathy. That's why I think this peice is so disturbing.

And don't worry, it's most definately not a fantasy of mine, lol.

Proline63

One thing. I think you started off in present tense and switched to past, then back to present. Awesome story. For some reason the first paragraph reminded me of Fight Club.

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Hey, you remember that time when... Oh. No, probably not- you were passed out.

Feorge Gorman

One of my favorite films!

The scene at 'Whammy Burger' where he was saying "You see...this is what I was talking about! Look at that picture. It's delicious and juicy and 3 inches thick...now look at this sorry looking squashed thing!" just says it ALL for me!

Well written story! I've (at times) wanted to just go berserk in a business after the attitude of those supposed to serve US!

pOOn

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feorge

New to Marijuana Dot Com? Be sure to read our POSTING GUIDELINES.

Larmer

Ypu wouldn't happen to work at an establishment called Omni-Tech, would you....