REVENGE
-Prologue-
The writer smoked his pipe and watched the news.
"The stocks of Brainshop tripled. Sales of the EGO III skyrocketed,“ the anchorman announced.
---
Josh sat at the edge of the curb - Main Street, Randolph, Ohio. It was a small town, about five thousand people, mostly farmers and small shop owners.
He lit up a Marlboro, smelled the gas from his zippo and inhaled. "What can go wrong, let’s try it.“ he said.
He got up, flipped the cigarette onto the street and entered the brainshop.
Josh had expected to see a salesman behind the counter, but instead it was Charlie, the girl from biology.
"Hey Josh.“ she said.
„Hi.“ he said, „how are you?“
„Fine. You want EGO?“
„What does it do?“
"It enhances. More focus."
Thirty minutes later he left the shop smiling.
Josh jumped into his Mustang, floored it, almost hitting another car.
He rolled down the window, inhaled the summer air and the scent of freshly baked bread hit his nose. Probably side effects. He never had felt that alive before.
He stopped at the gas station, went inside, paid and asked for the restroom keys. After peeing he combed his hair. That was the moment he saw it in the mirror. His face. Distorted.
"Maybe the focus kicked in.“ he whispered to himself.
Josh went back into the gas station. Everything looked red. His mind was racing.
Then.
His head.
Humming sounds. Like water boiling.
"Give me your shotgun!" He yelled at the clerk. Then Josh punched his face, broke his nose, jumped over the counter, snatched the shotgun and shot him.
Josh left the gas station, heading full speed to the other side of town. The Mustang was roaring even louder this time.
He finally arrived at that small wooden house in a middle class area on the south end of the city. Josh stopped his car, got out, ran towards the front door without even looking left or right and fired one shot at the door lock. The door burst open.
He went straight into the kitchen. His mother was watching her beloved gameshow. Josh aimed the shotgun: „Hi, Mother! Revenge, Mother. For letting him beat me! Every damn day.“
He shot six times, went outside, sucked in the summer air.
It tasted like rotten fish.
And it smelled like burning rubber.
He grabbed his gun, sat down at the curb, lit another cigarette, inhaled and pulled the trigger. His face blew half off and the cigarette landed on the other side of the street, drenched red but still burning.
-Epilogue-
The writer entered the post office.
"Another book for the publisher, Sam?" the clerk asked.
"Sure is, Rodney.“ he said.
The writer drove home, listening to the evening news on his radio.
"Folks get this,“ the radio jockey said, „Brainshop gives free upgrades. EGO IV for all customers. Now isn't that something folks? Isn't that something?“
The writer turned off his radio and smoked his pipe. Smiling.
The writer smoked his pipe and watched the news.
"The stocks of Brainshop tripled. Sales of the EGO III skyrocketed,“ the anchorman announced.
---
Josh sat at the edge of the curb - Main Street, Randolph, Ohio. It was a small town, about five thousand people, mostly farmers and small shop owners.
He lit up a Marlboro, smelled the gas from his zippo and inhaled. "What can go wrong, let’s try it.“ he said.
He got up, flipped the cigarette onto the street and entered the brainshop.
Josh had expected to see a salesman behind the counter, but instead it was Charlie, the girl from biology.
"Hey Josh.“ she said.
„Hi.“ he said, „how are you?“
„Fine. You want EGO?“
„What does it do?“
"It enhances. More focus."
Thirty minutes later he left the shop smiling.
Josh jumped into his Mustang, floored it, almost hitting another car.
He rolled down the window, inhaled the summer air and the scent of freshly baked bread hit his nose. Probably side effects. He never had felt that alive before.
He stopped at the gas station, went inside, paid and asked for the restroom keys. After peeing he combed his hair. That was the moment he saw it in the mirror. His face. Distorted.
"Maybe the focus kicked in.“ he whispered to himself.
Josh went back into the gas station. Everything looked red. His mind was racing.
Then.
His head.
Humming sounds. Like water boiling.
"Give me your shotgun!" He yelled at the clerk. Then Josh punched his face, broke his nose, jumped over the counter, snatched the shotgun and shot him.
Josh left the gas station, heading full speed to the other side of town. The Mustang was roaring even louder this time.
He finally arrived at that small wooden house in a middle class area on the south end of the city. Josh stopped his car, got out, ran towards the front door without even looking left or right and fired one shot at the door lock. The door burst open.
He went straight into the kitchen. His mother was watching her beloved gameshow. Josh aimed the shotgun: „Hi, Mother! Revenge, Mother. For letting him beat me! Every damn day.“
He shot six times, went outside, sucked in the summer air.
It tasted like rotten fish.
And it smelled like burning rubber.
He grabbed his gun, sat down at the curb, lit another cigarette, inhaled and pulled the trigger. His face blew half off and the cigarette landed on the other side of the street, drenched red but still burning.
-Epilogue-
The writer entered the post office.
"Another book for the publisher, Sam?" the clerk asked.
"Sure is, Rodney.“ he said.
The writer drove home, listening to the evening news on his radio.
"Folks get this,“ the radio jockey said, „Brainshop gives free upgrades. EGO IV for all customers. Now isn't that something folks? Isn't that something?“
The writer turned off his radio and smoked his pipe. Smiling.
