MINE
It was a bright beautiful morning when Raymond woke up. He opened his window and took in the day’s beauty. He took a deep breath of the morning air as a 6 year old with a red wagon passed by his house. The kid looked up quickly as Raymond shouted from his window, “Get the fuck away from my house unless you wanna get shot!”
The kid, astonished and startled at his words, stared at Raymond’s window as Raymond disappeared into his house. Raymond walked over to his bedside table and picked up his mongoose automatic shotgun, and returned to the window. The kid, in shock, started running as fast as he could, as Raymond fired a shot into the air. The second shot hit the tree two feet behind the now traumatized running child.
Raymond returned to his bedroom, where he laid the shotgun on his bed. He removed his shirt and pants and walked into the living room, stark naked. He stared as his reflection in the mirror over his mantle and started talking to himself, “62 years old, look at you… me. No, it’s you, not me, you! Stop!”
He held out his hands in front of his face, shouting and jumping. His wrinkled fat flesh shook as his disgustingly shaped 250 pound body leapt up and down. Raymond the hit the mirror with his bare fist. His hand spat blood across the room as the mirror shattered into a million bits. Raymond fell to the floor, clutching his hand and shaking.
The doorbell rang, startling Raymond and waking him off of the floor. He wrapped his hand in a towel and walked to the front door. He peered out of the peep hole to see that is was his neighbor, John, who had recently become a minister. Raymond slowly, cautiously opened the door.
John held his hands over his face to hide the vision of Raymond’s unsightly naked flesh before him. John took a step back as Raymond stepped onto the porch, oblivious to his naked body. Raymond barked, like an angry dog, “Why the fuck are you holding your fucking eyes?”
John spoke with a mild New York accent, always remaining calm and polite, “Are you aware that you are standing completely naked?”
Raymond looked down at his unshapely body, then back at John. He ran his hands all over his torso as he stared at his disgusting naked flesh, flapping as he moved. He bellowed in a voice that disturbed the neighborhood’s peaceful silence, “Don’t tell me I’m naked unless I fucking tell you to!”
With that, Raymond went back into the house and slammed the front door. John rang the bell again, but this time Raymond went up to his bedroom, picked up his shotgun and went into the bathroom. He fired two shots into the window, that happened to be right above the front porch. The glass rained down around John, scaring him away from the house.
Raymond walked back into his bedroom, fired his last round into the ceiling and laid on his bed. A familiar sound filled his ears as he reached under the bed. The sound became louder as it drew closer to him.
Pulling the .45 caliber colt pistol from underneath his bed, he ran to his window. He fired directly at the sound that was plaguing him. He leapt in joy as the third shot tore through the shoulder of a passing girl on a bicycle. Raymond cried, “Never pass my fucking house again!”
Raymond began laughing to himself until he quietly and suddenly fell to the floor. He muttered to himself in a harsh, dry tone, “Fucking Hand.”
The kid, astonished and startled at his words, stared at Raymond’s window as Raymond disappeared into his house. Raymond walked over to his bedside table and picked up his mongoose automatic shotgun, and returned to the window. The kid, in shock, started running as fast as he could, as Raymond fired a shot into the air. The second shot hit the tree two feet behind the now traumatized running child.
Raymond returned to his bedroom, where he laid the shotgun on his bed. He removed his shirt and pants and walked into the living room, stark naked. He stared as his reflection in the mirror over his mantle and started talking to himself, “62 years old, look at you… me. No, it’s you, not me, you! Stop!”
He held out his hands in front of his face, shouting and jumping. His wrinkled fat flesh shook as his disgustingly shaped 250 pound body leapt up and down. Raymond the hit the mirror with his bare fist. His hand spat blood across the room as the mirror shattered into a million bits. Raymond fell to the floor, clutching his hand and shaking.
The doorbell rang, startling Raymond and waking him off of the floor. He wrapped his hand in a towel and walked to the front door. He peered out of the peep hole to see that is was his neighbor, John, who had recently become a minister. Raymond slowly, cautiously opened the door.
John held his hands over his face to hide the vision of Raymond’s unsightly naked flesh before him. John took a step back as Raymond stepped onto the porch, oblivious to his naked body. Raymond barked, like an angry dog, “Why the fuck are you holding your fucking eyes?”
John spoke with a mild New York accent, always remaining calm and polite, “Are you aware that you are standing completely naked?”
Raymond looked down at his unshapely body, then back at John. He ran his hands all over his torso as he stared at his disgusting naked flesh, flapping as he moved. He bellowed in a voice that disturbed the neighborhood’s peaceful silence, “Don’t tell me I’m naked unless I fucking tell you to!”
With that, Raymond went back into the house and slammed the front door. John rang the bell again, but this time Raymond went up to his bedroom, picked up his shotgun and went into the bathroom. He fired two shots into the window, that happened to be right above the front porch. The glass rained down around John, scaring him away from the house.
Raymond walked back into his bedroom, fired his last round into the ceiling and laid on his bed. A familiar sound filled his ears as he reached under the bed. The sound became louder as it drew closer to him.
Pulling the .45 caliber colt pistol from underneath his bed, he ran to his window. He fired directly at the sound that was plaguing him. He leapt in joy as the third shot tore through the shoulder of a passing girl on a bicycle. Raymond cried, “Never pass my fucking house again!”
Raymond began laughing to himself until he quietly and suddenly fell to the floor. He muttered to himself in a harsh, dry tone, “Fucking Hand.”