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Everything's Connected
Join Date: Nov 2017
Location: Niagara Falls, Canada
Posts: 1,001
Battle Record: 19-8
Champed - Guerrilla Writing League(2x)
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- Art of Writing League
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"For me, the worst sin is hypocrisy. The sinner is not the assassin. The sinner's the bastard who hires the assassin." - Joyce Haber
...... I've often questioned the nature of my work, tortured by common sense It's kill or be killed and if I circumvent the mob I'm next Unless I accept the dollars mentioned I'm probably dead So I had to jot my signature when the contract came across my desk A hit on a boss I've yet to do, opening this envelope's a threat Return to sender section says 'Members Only' with no address I just nod my head... It gets worse than you imagine on the job I set fire to the letter with a lighter and blew the ashes off my palm Cut the cap from a cigar, inhaling never traps this shit for long Like bodies pushing up daisies beneath my backyard's little pond Soon I won't respond to assassination cues, like my father's estranged pursuits Back when I had my episodes, everything from infomercials to cable news Flying under the radar too, thank God I've never made it huge Kissed my wife and daughter goodbye, said I'd be gone for a day or two I'm looked upon as the savior who provides all the actual profit Until I dust off my Members Only jacket in the back of the closet I pocket my semi-automatic pistol, camouflaged with shirt and sleeves Leave to stalk my victim who I certainly need to observe in peace Hastily drum my fingers, waiting impatiently on his suburban street No newspaper at the end of his driveway - We all get what we deserve it seems Thirty minutes breeze by, he finally pulls from the curb to leave Turning to me as he passes, never stopping to give the third degree I turn off the trail of my cell phone and click on my burner piece Tailing behind, keeping my distance; Tires crunching over deserted leaves This beautiful fall day is sure fitting... Everything that takes its toll expires I follow behind for a quarter mile and pull up outside Holsten's Diner Come to a rolling stop; Dusk to night brokers a right of passage In typical fashion, the opinions of savages are tied to madness The target goes inside like a grizzly bear yet to be captured Cuz of reactions, I'll put him down before he's aware of what happened Once the blonde bitch enters the establishment target practice won't matter No collateral damage on pedestrians, even when packed to the rafters Stash the glock in my pocket, emotion blinds my focused eyes I stroll toward the diner, some punk kid falls in close behind Pay him no mind, I go inside - A bell rings when I open the door A token of war... This is somewhere I've stuck my nose in before Blow off steam and order coffee, that's how I cornered the market Sit-calm before I take a sparse sip and glance toward the target Spot the blonde bitch, and that punk kid sitting across from him Must be his wife and son... I have visions of wasting the lot of them A parking space tolerance; Draw parallels to determine the lines But I can't come to terms with the lies with murder in mind I focus on the target while about to commit a permanent crime No person beside him... Terrific timing, that's a perfect sightline Life holds on by a single twine while sewing insides No families intertwine; It's against the unspoken code we live by This isn't ideal for a clean hit, but better than some random dive pool hall Target plays "Don't Stop Believin" by Journey on his tableside jukebox Like executions I gotta hit the head... I walk slow to avoid suspicion I've brushed shoulders with the best, few notice a noise once distanced Never grown to enjoy resistance; It detracts when I'm on a mission I casually pass the target's position... No eye contact given Go to the bathroom stall like Godfather - It's just my process with this But I don't need a piece behind the toilet seat to drop this misfit Checked my gun and clicked off the safety so no ammo can slip Put the glock back in my jacket pocket, keeping a hand on the grip Leave fully equipped; When push comes to shove having pull hurts you Watching the target eat onion rings I realize everything comes full circle... Approach from behind and from a slight side angle at once Out of view his open mouth consumes; Enjoy your last meal, fat fuck Don't need to catch up to his last words, I won't depart with all he said I stop close by and take aim at the targets balding head Diner's mind their business, no one notices the incoming horror for now The front door opens, the bell rings - The target looks up toward the sound No more acting cordial and proud, it's time to let loose Perfect opportunity; I fire a bullet through the target's right temple He's knocked to the side, shouts and screams; Lights out, instantly Mouth agape, lungs deflate... There's no doubt he can't breathe Observe the crowd... I barely had to feel the trigger to pull it Target didn't turn around, I bet he didn't even hear the bullet... His wife screams in horror, "Tony!" The punk kid uses the table for cover Shots break his skull and paint the walls, the booth layered in blood... Journey still sings the chorus... People in the diner duck out and run I become one, moving toward the door while pocketing the gun Some tanned skin girl peeks in the door and freezes of course Her eyes go wide, "Daddy!" She drops her car keys on the floor One nudge and she rushes toward him, forever tragic and scarred I exit the diner amidst the commotion and head back to my car Will have to go to the scrapyard, there's too many eyewitnesses to consider I peel out quick and head under the bridge by the Hudson river Make a call on the burner phone, "This line's secure, go ahead..." I turn my head and look around, "Tony Soprano is confirmed dead" I said A long silence on the other end... then, "Your money is deposited now" Odd as it sounds, I didn't think the mafia's allowed to be talking aloud Hell of a night, irony is right; It would take a good fella to deny it I stare up at the full moon by the sound, relishing in the quiet Hell isn't rising, Heaven isn't gone - It's not any one option It's funny, I felt millions of eyes on me like everyone's watching Until I shot him... Then suddenly it was like a weight off my chest No one seemed to take notice, like everyone had basically left An amazing discrepancy... HBO lenses at my feet cut to the Chase Something was turned off and a dark nothingness was all that remained The lenses were attached to thin cables, it was viewed in my favor Time to return to my family and enjoy the fruits of my labor Like castration it takes balls to do this - This is for Members Only In order to upend a show creative hires me without ever knowing I'll be letter opening soon I think, but don't push the envelope please Getting lonely, life is never considered short when it's ending slowly I'll invest these funds for my next project and put the rest in holding Remember phonies... It's never over until you see the credits rolling... https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1x9YACdBUrU 15 Years Later... An incoming call at 4 am woke me from my slumber fast Too numb to act, I wondered and asked, 'Who's number's that?' How was my location discovered? I shouldn't be on GPS or colored maps Picked up and heard, "The lumberjack's back" - Outside thunder clapped "Target is Dexter Morgan..." Talk about being kept under wraps I killed him in a wooden cabin in the past, beheaded from his lower half Stowed the cast in a morgue, dead; Maybe the message had lost track It's not like I had nothing to fall back on, I already collected that contract It wasn't easy whacking a serial killer; Some actors earn the right role But when you factor in reprisals it becomes a matter of survival The arrival of a rival... I can only take a stab with a knife though The voice was a political tight rope, "It appears we have a revival..." Showtime! To Miami we go... "No, but at least you knew your history..." "Try due northeast... Target is now in New York City" "Make sure you get it right, please..." Then the operator's line went dead Frankenstein... These resurrected zombies are a real pain in my neck It's time to put Dexter down for good, no more resurrection concerns THIS time... I'll make that detective nerd wish he never returned Then it's on down to the next show, another pathetic lost and found Ironic how they shoot a pilot episode yet never get it off the ground... Tragedies abound, enjoy those precious few seasons with crowds Or I'll be at the set in my Members Only jacket... See ya around.
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..Passed the Present and Future.. |
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