You probably shouldn't read this.

The rain’s been falling for quite a while now, I wonder if it will ever end? I thought this as I opened the small bag, all the hope in my life was contained within. “Time to do some baking” I said out loud, this followed by a small laugh. The walls arched their eyebrows in surprise. As I went about my business, naked and hunched over the windowsill and sitting on a shitty stool, my gaze shifted down towards the crying streets and finally settled on what appeared to be a business man. He was the definition of regular, presumably lost as he slowly walked, looking around and up ahead. This man definitely did not know where he was going, what lied ahead on this street. With the small floods running down the slightly slanted concrete, the suit almost looked like he was walking on a treadmill, one powered by the sly electricity of the corporate engine.
It’s a simple process really. 1. You take out how much heroin you want, usually putting it on a spoon with a little bit of spit and just like that, you’re ready to bake. 2. Add flame until the powder melts into the elixir of life. 3. Suck this into the syringe and after using a belt or something to find a vein, inject. BAM just like that, homemade divine intervention.
I slumped against the side of the window, a small grin sneaking it’s way onto my face as reality fucked me into the best orgasm possible. It’s raining really hard. The suit also knew this, now stopped trying to both shield his cell phone from the incessant rain, while trying to get it to work. I could see the antenna desperately clawing at the bombardment that was the sky, but it was no use, no one was listening, no one that he needed at least. I could see everything now, I could see the eyes watching the poor man, and hear the mouths. For some this man was a waste, an alcoholic abusive millionaire father. For some, this man used to be themselves. Either way, all his material possessions didn’t mean a thing where he is. There are no banks, no cell phone signals, empty except for the people.
I could hear everything; I could see it all now. “I am God right now” I thought. The walls laughed. I pictured myself, looking out the window of a skyscraper, looking below at the world I owned. I pictured myself looking into the eyes of the woman I loved. And then I saw…


Something hit the ground about a block back on the street, Frank turned around to see another object falling, it was skinny, but the tears were coming down so hard it seemed to push the object towards the ground even faster, when it hit he could hear breaking glass. From behind his $900 designer glasses Frank’s eyes flickered up to the window sill the stuff had fallen from, only to see a limp skinny fellow halfway out of the window.
“People are dying left right and centre on this street” he thought to himself, and let out a small laugh. The man pointing the gun at Frank arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“You think this is funny Trump? All the clothes off, now. You’re gonna die either way, but I don’t want blood on your shit” the darkness behind the gun said in a cool voice. “That’s right, for you, all these raindrops might as well be bullets, this street has no end for you, Frank”

“You know what? My wife hates me” Frank paused as his own words seemed to change the raining bullets back into tears, if only for a second. “I’m richer than you can imagine, I probably own this street, and the crack you smoke. At night I stand and look down at the city, people like you, you’re an ant to me.” He paused a second again, scared the darkness might shoot him before he could finish his final rant. “But it all came with a price, I seem to have lost all emotion, I’ve probably shortened the earth’s lifespan by about 300 years, I’m cut off, half unconscious to the world. My wife won’t even look at me, let alone fuck me, I just came down here to get laid but my car broke down, I just wanted to feel alive, because as far as the world’s concerned, I’m dead… Satan if you will. So you want me to get undressed? Fuck you, shoot me… it’ll be bliss”

The darkness laughed, “OK” and with a quick squeeze of the trigger unloaded a scorching hot shot into his arm, then three more into his chest. The impact blasted frank off his feet, he was in the air just long enough to remember every single horrible moment in his life, but couldn’t for the… life of him, think of a moment of joy. The impact didn’t even seem to hurt, he was past feeling now, all he could do was listen and look, his vision was fading quickly, but he could see it all, every single raindrop, he could hear every single tear that’s ever hit the ground. And then he saw…


Clarence lowered the gun and quickly put it back into his coat pocket. He stared for a moment at the man he had just killed, a smooth puddle of blood now beginning to slowly form around the man’s otherwise untouched suit. Clarence said to himself puzzled. He licked his lips in the dry night air and began to undress the corpse.

"…And…

Cut…!"

“That’s a wrap for today folks, good work.”

Clarence (Lawrence Sticklebaum) helped Frank (Leo Sawyer) up…

“Boy - those damn bloodcaps have a kick - I feel like a punchbag…”
“Showbiz luvvy - showbiz, we must all suffer for our art…”
“Oh piss off you great gay buffoon, you aren’t the one in pain… HEY CAN I GET SOME HELP OVER HERE…?”

On a corner of the set, amid the puddles left by the rain-machines the director and the producers stand in a huddle…

“They’re threatening to dump the picture.”
“WHAT…!”
“Yeah - they say it’s too dark for the Summer season…”
“BASTARDS !!!”
“Cool it Peter - we need the cash, without the picture - we’re bust, kaput, toast.”
“SHIT SHIT SHIT… RIGHT…”

“Sorry everybody - we’re reshooting that last scene… Places please. Someone get Frank into Wardrobe - Clarence - back up to the window…”

“Okay everybody - roll cameras, and ACTION”

“People are dying left right and centre on this street” he thought to himself, and let out a small laugh. The man pointing the gun at Frank arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“You think this is funny Trump? All the clothes off, now. You’re gonna die either way, but I don’t want blood on your shit” the darkness behind the gun said in a cool voice. “That’s right, for you, all these raindrops might as well be bullets, this street has no end for you, Frank”

“You know what? My wife and me are going through a hard time right now - but we’re working through it for the kids ” Frank paused as his own words seemed to change the raining bullets back into tears, if only for a second. “I’m richer than you can imagine, I probably own this street, and the crack you smoke. At night I stand and look down at the city, people like you, you’re valuable members of society who’ve had some bad luck - that’s all - don’t give up on yourself.” He paused a second again, scared the darkness might shoot him before he could finish his final rant. “But it all came with a price, I seemed to have lost all emotion, I’ve probably shortened the earth’s lifespan by about 300 years, I’m cut off, half unconscious to the world. But I’ve seen the error of my ways - and now I use my billions for good - not evil. My wife and I have satrted talking again , and tonight we played hide the sausage for the first time in months, I just came down here to get her some nice flowers but my car broke down, I feel alive again, and as far as the world’s concerned, I’m it’s new best friend. So you want me to get undressed? Fuck you, shoot me… it’ll be the world’s loss - and you’ll be responsible”

The darkness laughed, “OK” and with a quick squeeze of the trigger unloaded scorching shot after shot into the darkness. The noise of the blasts drove Frank to his knees. Frank flashbacked to every single horrible moment in his life, but couldn’t for the… life of him, think of a moment of joy. The impacts didn’t even seem to have hurt, in fact, now that the ringing in his ears had subsided - their was no pain at all… Frank got up, frantically searching for wounds… Blood… But miraculously - Nothing…


“I couldn’t do it…”

Clarence lowered the gun and quickly put it back into his coat pocket. He stared for a moment at the man he had just spoken to, a look of disbelief on his cleanshaven face.

“It was the junk man, the junk - what you said - it moved me, if a rich dude like you still thinks I can make it… Maybe I can…”

Clarence said to himself puzzled. He licked his lips in the dry night air and began to undress. When he had removed the filthy rags he wore, he tossed the paraphenalia of his addiction in the trash, and climbed down the fire escape into the street. The rain washed over him like a benediction from a forgiving hand…

“I am, I am born again…!”

He shrieked, and crumpled to the ground. Frank removed his cashmire coat and draped it around Clarence’s thin shoulders. Gym-toned muscles easily lift his sparse frame.

“Come on my friend - let’s get you home, and when you’re feeling better you’re gonna help me build a better world… Clarence…”
“Yes Frank…?”
“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship…”

The set errupts in applause. The Director kisses the producer…
“I think we’re onto an Oscar here Toby, I really do…”

[size=75][Sorry Old Gobbo, but life’s too short to be that depressing :wink: ][/size]

Lol… Tab you’re hilarious

But I didn’t think it was depressing… it’s objective. Jukies die, Suits die… whose life is really better?

Call me shallow - but I’ll take the swimming pool and the bimbos thankyou very much… :wink:

I don’t blame you