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Mr. Hyde
January 3rd, 2006, 08:56 PM
"This isn't about love as in caring. This is about property as in ownership." -Fight Club.

The ball room is shined and the marble floor mirrors the reflections of everyone dancing. I flip out my pocket watch, solid gold with platinum hands, and it reads out 8:45. I ease it back in my vest and stroll across the floor passing a caterer and snagging a long stem glass of Honig Sauvignon Blanc Napa. White wine.

From my cigar case in my jacket pocket I draw one out, snip the tip, and light. Rolling and puffing. I sit at a table on the far end where a lonely looking woman in an elegant black Versace dress with spaghetti straps and a diamond necklace stares at the bottom of an empty glass. "Fifteen minutes until showtime. Are you ready?" she says in a quiet, but quite extravagant voice. I smile and blow out a cheek full of smoke, and reply, "I showed up didn't I?"

On the second floor there's guys in suits, each one hiding all manner of lethals just for added spice. And somewhere, though I'm not sure where, I hear a voice say, "Look at the honeymooners." Five minutes until it's time. And we're laughing like we were the day we met.

Then it's down to two and a half. And she asks me, "Do you love me?" I set the cigar down in the glass. Stare back at her, and whisper across the table, "I never loved you." It feels like a small punch in my stomach. The light ting of a casing bouncing on the floor rings in my ear. She pushes her chair back and stands up. Smoke still crawls out of the silencer of her 9mm as she walks around the table in her high heels with a light clap of each foot step.

I lean over onto the table, groan and roll out of the chair onto the floor. Everyone. One by one. Stops dancing. Stops drinking and talking and eating. Every lovely little evening turns completely to **** as they watch this goddess glower with the death in her eyes at her husband. The words, "Together forever" still inscribed on the wedding rings. Leaning on my side I thumb a pistol out. Roll. Shoot. She jerks her head back and lets out a squeel. I kick back a bit and try to get on my feet.

Everyone on the second floor starts drawing out their guns. She looks at me. She's not crying. She looks, surprisingly, like she's enjoying it. Getting turned on. The bullet didn't hit her directly. It just grazed her cheek. I hold my stomach with one hand and aim at her with the other. Everyone is silent. Afraid of getting shot. Afraid to call the cops. Afraid to leave. Everyone is so predictable and cowardly. More money than balls.

"You never loved me?" she says. "NEVER!?" she screams as she pulls the trigger blowing out one of my knee caps. I draw up and squeeze off a round that snatches her shoulder back. It hits and rips through the strap on her right shoulder. A breast, full and round and perfect pops out and everyone gasps. Some of the women fight through the shock and cover their husbands eyes. Somewhere in the back there's a loud slap and a muffled "I'm sorry honey."

She strolls over still calm and confident and steps on my knee. "NEVER!? NOT ONE DAY DID YOU LOVE ME!?" she screams. I yell and moan in pain and drop the pistol. "THEN WHY ARE WE EVEN HERE!?" she keeps screaming as she grinds her heel deeper into the blown out and busted hunk of meat and bone holding my shin to my thigh. She lets up and I catch my breathe enough to say, "Be-because....I thought I-I could...ugh...that I cou-could win you."

"You don't win lovers." she says. "You earn them. You care about them. THey're not prizes." I whip my good leg around and kick hers out from under her and slide over beside her. Hold her down and push the gun away. Kiss her and tell her I love her. I didn't. But I do now. She smiles and kisses me back. Then wraps her leg around mine and snaps it up towards her waist. Pushes me back so I'm sitting on my knees. She reaches above her head and pulls the gun off the floor.

She raises to fire and I fall back on top of her. Everything starts to go black from the blood loss. When I wake up I'm in the hospital eyeballing some flowers. There's a note attached that says, "Looks like I 'won' you instead. See ya at home babe. Michelle."

sylouette
January 3rd, 2006, 09:04 PM
I loved it. I loved it.