COLD BLACK MIRROR (standard:Flash, 5957 words)
Author: Danny Zil	Added: Oct 04 2016	Views/Reads: 2620/1614	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
10 BLACK FLASH TALES.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


He was still a fairly bright guy but the booze an the drugs an the
depression an all the failures were beginnin to dull that. He was 
glancin thru a magazine once an he saw a quote from an old German 
philosopher an he was still smart enough to appreciate it. 

Nietzsche. The guy had written, ‘The first best thing is never to have
been born. The second best thing is to die soon.' 

Ordinary Joe couldn't have the first one. Fingers crossed for the
second. 

CARE TO BUY A LOSER A DRINK? 

It was gettin near midnight one time down at Eddy's. The usual crowd of
bums an no-hopers were proppin up the bar or were scattered round the 
tables. I kinda liked the feel of the place especially on a wet Sunday 
night like this, besides there was nothin waitin at home for me except 
Monday mornin. 

I was at my usual place at the far corner of the bar where I could drink
an smoke an watch the action so I spotted her as soon as she walked in. 
Blonde, attractive, mid-thirties. Messy divorce written all over her. 
She stood there a coupla minutes, lookin round an shakin rain from her 
folded down umbrella. 

I watched her takin in the scene an I could sense her despair as she
realized she was now one of us losers. Hey lady, that's why you drink 
at places like Eddy's till two in the mornin. 

Maybe it was because some of the bums were already droolin over her or
maybe it was because she wanted to sit next to a rugged, worn-lookin 
guy but she headed down in my direction anyway. She hitched herself up 
on to the stool next to me. I could smell the rain off her. 

“What's a good word for a female loser?” she asked. 

“You,” I replied. 

She glanced at me an lit a smoke. “Care to buy a loser a drink then?” 

I nodded up to Eddy who was just puttin the blackjack away. 

“What you havin?” I asked her. 

“Sour,” she told me. 

“Life or drink?” 

“Both,” she answered. 

Eddy brought us over the whiskeys an we just sat around watchin the
scene awhile. I knew where she was comin from. She was finished an she 
just didn't know it yet. That last shred of hope had gone an now there 
was nothin. It took some time to learn how to handle that one. If you 
ever could. 

“Funny how everythin can go in a few months,” she said eventually. 

“Oh it can go a lot quicker than that,” I told her. 

“Then you've lost--” 

I glanced sharply at her. There was a line you didn't cross. Not with
me. Not at Eddy's this time of night. 

“Sorry,” she muttered an lit another smoke. 

We didn't say anythin for a bit after that. Just sat there drinkin an
smokin an watchin the action. I knew she needed the company. I knew I 
didn't. 

I sensed she couldn't leave it alone. She sighed. “But it all could have
been so good,” she said wistfully. “So damn good.” 

“Isn't it pretty to think so,” I remarked. 

“Well what is there then?” she asked. “If it's all gone?” 

“Find somebody else or some kinda work you can lose yourself in,” I told
her. 

“I've already tried. Both. Nothin worked.” 

“In that case it'll take some time but you'll learn.” 

“Learn what?” 

“To wake every mornin an not expect anythin. Wake to nothin.” 

“Sounds pretty bad.” 

“It is,” I replied. I was growin tired of this conversation. I had been
through it a hundred times before. With myself. 

“Take me home with you. Just for tonight,” she pleaded. 

For a second that note of pleadin in her voice almost got to me. Almost.
I shook my head. 

“Why not?” she asked. 

“Because spendin the night with you won't bring me back to life,” I
replied flatly. 

She glanced at me. “You've given up then?” 

“The sun set for me some time ago,” I told her. I finished my drink,
nodded up to Eddy an left. 

Outside, the streets were empty except for the rain. There were blurred
reflections of shop lights an advertisin signs on the wet sidewalks. I 
headed off, lookin for a cab. 

ONLY DEGREES OF MISERY 

I was lyin in bed one afternoon, drinkin coffee an thinkin about how bad
things were when the phone rang. I couldn't really be bothered talkin 
to anybody but I answered it anyway. 

“Yeah?” 

“You have to help me!” this female voice pleaded. “I can't stand it any
longer! I'm going to kill myself!” 

“Fine,” I told her. “Go ahead.” 

Silence from the other end of the line. Don't think it was quite the
response she expected. 

“You don't understand,” she said eventually. “I'm planning to kill
myself. I need your help.” 

“So you need help with the plannin?” I asked. “Like you can't think of a
way to do it yourself? Hey lady, there's loads of ways.” 

There was a muffled sob from her end. I half-expected her to hang up. I
lit a smoke an waited. 

“Can't you....can't you try to talk me out of it?” she begged. 

“Why should I?” I replied. “I didn't talk you into it.” 

More muffled sobs. More silence. It dragged on. This time I broke it. 

“Look, I don't even know you,” I said. “You call me up an tell me you're
plannin to kill yourself an you want my help. How'd you get my number 
anyway?” 

“Oh I just called a number at random,” she told me. “You see I'm pretty
desperate. Things aren't too good at my end of the line.” 

“They're not too clever at my end either,” I informed her. 

“But I cry myself to sleep every night,” she said. 

“Hey lady, I cry myself awake!” 

“Oh!” More muffled sobs. “Sorry,” she managed. 

She sounded kinda nice. In a desperate sort of way. I decided to help. 

“Listen, this is the only piece of advice I'm givin you, so pay
attention,” I said then paused. I wanted this to sink in. “You're not 
allowed to,” I told her. 

“Not allowed to what?” 

“Not allowed to kill yourself!!” I yelled. “What the hell d'you think I
mean - not allowed to go out for coffee an fuckin donuts!?” 

There was an expected silence while she thought about that. 

“Why aren't you allowed to kill yourself?” she finally asked. 

“Because the Big Boss don't like it,” I told her. “Takes it as a serious
insult after He's granted you the precious gift of life an all that 
crap. Really pisses Him off.” 

“You mean God?” she asked. 

“Call Him what you like,” I said, “but kill yourself an things will get
even worse. A damn sight worse an you won't be able to escape it. Not 
like you can escape the shit here.” “How can things get any worse?” 

“Believe me they will,” I replied. “You get punished in the afterlife.
Punished most severe. Even Shakespeare thought you got punished an that 
was four hundred years ago.” 

“Who?” 

Jeeze. This was one dumb broad. I explained who he was. 

“Will he help me to kill myself?” 

“Nope.” 

“Will he help me to be happy?” 

“Nope.” 

“But I used to be so happy!” she wailed. “Now there's just all
this....all this misery!” 

I laughed derisively. “That old fuckin illusion happiness!” 

She hesitated. “Have you ever been happy?” she mumbled. 

I ignored the question. “Happiness never lasts,” I told her instead.
“It's like a snow fall in the river - a moment white then gone 
forever.” 

More silence while she thought about that one. 

“Do you think people get a second chance at life?” she asked. 

“I don't think most of us get a first!” I replied. 

This was gettin tedious. I sensed it could go on all day. I decided to
bring the call to an end. 

“Look lady, this is my final word to you,” I said. “There's no such
thing as lastin happiness. There's only degrees of misery. That's all 
there is - only degrees of misery. You just have to learn how to endure 
whatever yours is.” I hung up. 

I lit another smoke an decided to change my number. 

WAKE TO NOTHIN 

Just driftin thru dead days in that trailer park. Don't seem to come
awake for long. When I do it's tv an movies. Read some. Stare out at 
the hills. Used to lie there sometimes just smokin an starin out the 
window, breeze ripplin the curtains, darkness in my head an my heart. 
Finished. 

Got a Vet's pension from Nam an my Marine's pension. Scrapes me by.
Don't need big supplies. Smokes an beer an park rent. Own the trailer. 

Don't mix all that often. Family long since gone or buried. Meant to be
gettin married a while back but she left me half way thru my tour. Only 
real friends I ever had were left in Nam. In bits. Think I left the 
best part of me out there as well cos nothin much came back. 

Not that there was much to come back to. Hardly any work round these
parts, besides I ain't got no trade 'cept killin an I'm done with that. 


Do some work now an again on the park owner's Harley. Sometimes take it
for a spin up into the hills. Like it when it rains. Pull up under the 
same big oak. Sit there an have a smoke an look out at the rain an the 
woods. Can still see Charlie flittin among the trees. They were never 
endin. Like ants. Didn't matter how many you killed, was always 
hundreds more. All that death. For what? All seems kinda pointless now. 
Never really changed anythin, did it? 

Head down to Sam's Waterin Hole some friday nites. Just to break up
time. Sit at the same spot. Have a few beers an watch the action. Pool 
games. Slots. Dancin. Occasional brawl. Some folks would say “Hi” an 
I'd nod back. 

She walked over one nite. Kinda pretty. Carryin two beers. Sat down next
to me. 

“These are mine,” she announced, settin the beers down on the table. 

I shrugged. 

She laughed an slid one over. “Seen you here a few times,” she said. 

“Some friday nites,” I told her. 

“You're always sittin on your own.” 

“Don't bother me none.” 

“Wanna come over an join us?” 

“Maybe next time.” 

We chatted some more then she went back to her friends. Kept glancin
over. Knew it would happen. She tagged after me when I was leavin. 
Outside we stopped an lit smokes. 

“Where you headed?” she asked. 

“Got a place close by.” 

“Who's waitin there?” 

“Nobody.” 

She smiled. “Be back?” 

“Next friday,” I replied an strolled off into the nite. 

Only I wouldn't. I had got used to it. The big empty. Knew it could
never be filled. Had stopped tryin. 

‘Swept by the tide to this point an turnin to look back on the best
days.' Read that somewhere once. Stayed with me. Kinda summed me up. 

One hour walk back to the park. Six beers waitin at the trailer. Smoke,
drink, stare out at the dark nite from a dark heart. Drift off. 

Wake to nothin. 

GRAVEDIGGER 

Just trampled the last of them thick grassy wedges into the top of the
grave when the rain started. Came on real heavy, like. Kicked some 
rocks an deadwood over the spot then grabbed ma flashlight an took me 
under a big beech tree for shelter. 

Half past midnight. Darker 'n hell round here. Lit a smoke an sat down
'gainst that big ole beech trunk. Heavy rain didn't touch me none back 
there. Had brought me a jug from the still. Cousin Ottis is off tendin 
it now. Nipped off a hit from the jug an looked over towards the grave. 


That makes it number five by ma reckonin. 

They'll never catch me. Ah'm real careful, like. Known all these woods
since Ah was a kid. Know just exactly where to hide those graves so 
nobody'll ever find them. 

Been a gravedigger all ma life, see, diggin them six feeters for
corpses. Bothered me at first. Then you get used to it. Then it's just 
a job. Like a fella goin out to a store job or fact'ry work. 

Then Ah became a corpse maself. Rich drunk bastard mangled up mama an ma
boys one nite drivin back from his rich man's club. Nearly ripped the 
pick-up in half. Bastard walked away from it. Mama an the boys didn't. 
Buried them maself. Shoulda buried me too. Walkin corpse is all that Ah 
am now. 

Just carried on workins. What else could Ah do? Then Ah got the idea.
Overtime, some folks might call it. Only this was different. Unpaid 
overtime, Ah'd say. 

Decided Ah'd surely change some of them rich dogs. Change them when they
least expected it. Just when they thought everythin was goin fine. Like 
Ah did afores mama an the boys were tore from me. 

Was careful how Ah picked them. Watched them awhiles, like, waitin to
move in when they was alone with nobody round. Lift one a coupla times 
a year in different towns in this state an the next. Use that stun gun 
cousin Ottis gave me then bring the bodies back to these here woods. 

Third to go down was that drunk bastard that wiped out ma fam'ly. Saw
him at his rich aunt's funeral. Rich friends made sure he didn't do no 
time. Bastard was drunk again. Hangin round with all them other dogs, 
all slav'rin over how much they'd got comin in the will. 

Well it wasn't money he had comin. It was me. 

“Now we're the same, boy,” Ah said to him when Ah stood on his grave,
way out in these dark lonesome woods. “Ah lost it all. An now, so have 
you.” 

Only it weren't that easy for him to be dyin. Or that pleasant. 

Durin the day Ah buried dead folks, see. On special nites, Ah buried
them when they was still alive. When they came to, they was in a nine 
feeter. 

Cousin Ottis helps with the graves an the bodies. He don't like them
rich dogs neither. Specially after they took the farm off him. Worked 
it all his life he did, man an boy. 

Now he works on them. 

He likes to fool around with the bodies afore we bury them. Ah gen'rally
leaves him to it. Long as they're goin down is all Ah cares. An they're 
goin down for sure. 

Just like her. Out there in that grave. Take her awhile to go Ah
reckons. Still, she's got that flashlight to see where she'll be dyin. 
In the extra three feet at the bottom. With that thick wood board above 
her. An six feet of cold dark earth above that. 

SMOKIN KILLS 

To show they meant business they had stripped me naked, handcuffed my
wrists an ankles to a heavy wooden chair then smashed both my kneecaps 
with hammers. 

When I came to they were standin there, smokin an watchin. One of them
threw a bucket of water over me. 

“Thanks,” I grunted. “I needed a shower.” 

Then they went back to work on me. With an electric saw. This time when
I came to I had bloody stumps instead of fingers an thumbs. 

“Never run them thru my hair again,” I muttered, starin at the pulpy
mess on both hands. 

They laughed an sprinkled some petrol on my head an set my hair on fire.
They left me alone for a few minutes after that. After I stopped 
screamin that is. 

Squintin through sweat an blood I could just make out their silhouettes
behind the bright light that was shinin on me. There was only dark 
empty warehouse around us. Broken windows with bars on them. Pools of 
water on the floor with rain drippin in from the leakin roof. 

They finished their smokes, flicked the butts away into the darkness
then casually strolled over an drilled out one of my eyes. 

“Need one a them black eye patches now,” I managed before I passed out
again. 

They brought me round by throwin another bucket of water over me. 

“Christ, that's two showers in one day,” I complained. 

I shook the water an blood outa my face an peered thru my one good eye.
The Boss had arrived. Tall guy. Jet black hair. Expensive suit. They 
dusted down a chair for him an he sat down. 

“Before you ask,” I rasped, “I still ain't tellin you where Jimmy
Hammond's hidin out.” 

The Boss didn't react. Just took a cigarette from a silver case, lit it
an sat there smokin. 

“Not much of me left,” I grunted. “Expect that'll be goin as well?” 

The Boss nodded. 

“Two last requests.” 

He waited. 

“A last smoke then you do it.” 

The Boss nodded again. He brought out his cigarette case an flicked it
open. One of them took out a smoke, lit it then strolled over an shoved 
it in my mouth. 

“Let me hold it,” I muttered. 

The Boss said nothin. Just pointed at the handcuffs on my right wrist. 

“I have to warn you – I'm armed,” I whispered to the guy as he bent an
unlocked the cuffs. 

He shook his head an wedged the smoke between a coupla my bloody stumps.


“Won't be holdin a baseball bat with that hand no more,” I said, liftin
it up. 

The Boss finished his smoke, flicked it away then waited. I smoked mine
down till there was a half inch of white left. 

“I'll take a last draw then do it,” I told him. 

He stood up, reached inside his jacket an slipped out a handgun. 

I took the last draw. “You know,” I said to him, smoke driftin down my
nose, “I always thought smokin would kill me one day.” I jammed the 
butt between my lips, closed my eyes an nodded. 

I heard him stroll over to me. No hurry. Then a coupla seconds later he
fired. 

IT'S NOT YOUR DAY, JFK 

You prob'ly still come across this question now and again in a magazine
or maybe even on the TV – where were you an what were you doin when 
President Kennedy was assassinated? Well I know exactly where I was an 
exactly what I was doin – I was sittin at a window on the sixth floor 
of The Texas School Book Depository in Dallas, with my finger on the 
trigger of a Mannlicher-Carcano rifle. 

Watin for him to arrive. And the fucker was late. Late!  Which made me
late. Late for my origami class. Damn fucker an his damn bitch. 

Them paper-foldin classes are real important to me. Not like this shit.
I just do this for the dollars. Usually Mafia hits. This is a big deal 
though. Pays big deal dollars. Means I can open up my ownCHRIST HERE IT 
COMES!! THE MOTORCADE!! THEM BIG-ASS HARLEYS ARE OUT IN FRONT. DAMN 
THEY LOOK GOOD. LIKE THEY'RE JUST FLOATIN ALONG. MY SIGHTS. CHECK MY 
SIGHTS. STILL SPOT ON. BE ONLY A MINUTE LONGER. 

Yeah, been doin them origami classes awhile now. Makin all sorts of
little folded paper things. Like swans an roses an trees an buildins. 
First thing I've ever loved. Givin me real purpose, real focus. Like 
I've finally found what I was meant to be doin. Strange how it can take 
a man so long to find himself. 

Gettin real good at it too. Teacher says I'm a natural. Good with my
hands. With my fingers. My trigger finger. Could've told her that 
anyways. Been good with my trigger finger since my MarineGOT HIM IN MY 
SIGHTS!! CAN SEE HIS FACE!! HE'S SHAVED THIS MORNIN. WE'LL HE'S GOT 
ANOTHER CLOSE SHAVE COMIN. FOR MAKIN ME LATE. CHRIST I COULD SHOOT A 
FLY UP THE ASS FROM WAY OFF. BUT THE FIRST ONE'S GOIN IN HIS BACK. 
DELIBERATE. JUST FOR MAKIN ME LATE. 

Yeah, my exams are comin up next year. Lots of work to do before then.
Makin this my last hit. So I can concentrate on the paper foldin. Today 
we start the complicated stuff. Bigger stuff. People. With expressions 
on their faces. Like there's goin to be soon on Jackie'sTEN SECONDS TO 
LIVE, JFK!! IF ONLY YOU KNEW!! WHAT CAN YOU DO IN TEN SECONDS? COULDN'T 
EVEN FUCK HER IN THAT. SLOWLY TIGHTEN ON THE TRIGGER. EASY NOW. DEEP 
BREATH IN AND HOLD. FIRE. FIRST ONE IN HIS BACK. FOLLOW HIM. FIRE. 
SECOND ONE IN. BRAINS FLYIN OUT. FOLLOW HIM. FIRE. THIRD ONE IN. JUST 
TO MAKE SURE. 

Just to make sure. Cos I need them big deal dollars. Plannin on openin
up my own origami shop after my exams. Sellin just my own work. Gonna 
be the bestCHRIST JACKIE'S CRAWLIN ALL OVER THE FUCKIN CAR!! ALL OVER 
IT!! LOOKS PRETTY IN PINK. CRAWLIN ON HER HANDS AND KNEES. WOND'RIN 
WHAT THE FUCK'S GOIN ON. JFK'S GOIN DOWN. THAT'S WHAT'S GOIN ON. 

Think I'll do a real intricate origami of Jackie when I get good enough.
Just for myself. Fuck, she looked good crawlin over that car. Do one of 
her on her hands and knees. Nude. Tits hangin down. Ass in the air. 
Legs spread. And oh, that shaved pussy. 

IS MY MUSIC BOTHERIN YOU? 

So I moved into this flat a coupla weeks ago. Top floor. Another shit
view of the South Bronx shithole. Decided to introduce myself to the 
neighbours. Gave them the Stones for a few hours at two in the mornin. 
Full blast. Fuckin walls were bouncin. 

Turns out the deadbeats below me are two deaf ole fuckers who drift into
a Tylenol coma early every nite an don't wake up till mid-mornin, both 
havin pissed the bed. But the dicks in the flat next door! A weedy 
lookin, specky little fucker with his mousy little wife an their two 
brats. They'll do! 

Next nite I gave them Metallica till the early hours. Full blast. Fuckin
windows were rattlin. Then I strolled along the hallway. Kicked Weedy 
Cunt's door. Stood there. Six feet of bad attitude. Sixteen stones of 
muscle. Beard. Earring. Tattoos. Denims. Weedy Cunt answered the door. 
Dressin gown, pyjamas an specs. Scared to look at me. 

“Just moved in,” I growled at him. “Is my music botherin you?” 

He swallowed nervously. “Not so far,” he mumbled. 

I grinned. “It will,” I told him an swaggered back to my flat. 

Followin nite I gave Weedy Cunt the Doors. Every album. Full blast.
Fuckin room was jumpin. Strolled along the hallway at six. Kicked the 
door. Stood there. Big arms folded. Mean mother-fuckin stare. Weedy 
Cunt arrived. Looked like he hadn't slept. 

“Is my music botherin you?” I growled. 

“Not so far,” he mumbled, not darin to look at me. 

I grinned. “It will,” I told him then swaggered back to my flat an
slammed the door. 

Carried on like that for a coupla weeks. I gave them a Guns n' Roses
nite. Then a Meat Loaf nite. Then an AC/DC nite. Then a Led Zep nite. 
Felt like goin next door an askin if they had any fuckin requests. 

A few days later I met Weedy Cunt at the lift. He was wearin a duffel
coat. A fuckin duffel coat! Looked like Woody Allen. I strolled in an 
took up most of the lift space. Didn't move for him. He sidled in. 
Stood there lookin at the floor. 

I stared down at his thinnin hair, them black specs an that weedy face
all the way up to the top floor. The lift stopped an the door slid 
open. 

“Is my music botherin you?” I growled at him. 

“Not so far,” he mumbled then sidled out an scurried along the hallway. 

I grinned. “It will,” I told him. 

I swaggered along to my flat. Got a big nite planned. Case of Millers.
Bottle of vodka. Some good grass. Gonna give Weedy Cunt the best hard 
rock an heavy metal trax in my entire collection. Full blast. Fuckin 
buildin would be shakin. 

Towards dawn, between trax, I heard a timid knock at the door. At last!
Weedy Cunt has finally come to complain. I grinned an staggered to the 
door an glanced thru the peephole. It was him! Dressin gown, pyjamas an 
specs. Looked like he was gonna shit himself. He would after I 
flattened him. 

I opened the door an fuck me if I wasn't starin at the barrels of a
sawed-off twelve bore shotgun he'd been hidin. It was pointed straight 
at my guts. 

Weedy Cunt looked me right in the eye. “Is my sawn-off twelve bore
botherin you?” he growled. 

“Not so far,” I mumbled. 

He grinned. “It will,” he told me, then he gave me both barrels. 

Christ, I'd hate to be the fuckin cleanin lady in that flat. 

DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? 

Them rich punk bastards. Rock stars, movie stars, sports stars. They're
always pullin that, “Do you know who I am?” fuckin crap. Any time they 
get in trouble with the cops or they're tryin to weasel into a 
restaurant or a show or somethin it's always that, “Do you know who I 
am?” bullshit. 

Seriously gets on my fuckin tits. 

Tonite we got us a Rock Star Cunt comin here. I'm leadin the front door
squad. The boss. If he pulls any of that, “Do you know who I am?” shit 
with me, I'll be ready for him. 

Rules have changed, see. Used to be the big stars could park their big
star cars out front of the venue. This was causin too many traffic 
problems an now they have to park them round the side. So when Rock 
Star Cunt arrives, he'll prob'ly park out front. Jump outa his shiny 
rock star car an leave it there. 

That's when I'll step in. “Excuse me, sir,” I'll say. “You can't park
out front anymore. Has to be round the side.” 

Rock Star Cunt will look at me. Amazed that a mere door guy is tellin
him what to do. Then it'll be that, “Do you know who I am?” bullshit. 

I'll just grin an say, “Why, have you forgotten!? Has your brain been
frazzled by too many drugs!?” 

Yep, I'll be ready for the asshole. 

I'm not sayin who he is or where I work cos they'll both prob'ly sue me.
The rat's a Rock Star Cunt. Mid-twenties. Long black hair. Looks like a 
burglar in a suit. Bet he's had more women in a year than I've had in 
my life. His fuckin car'll be worth more'n my poxy apartment. 

So I'm standin there waitin. Ready for the cunt. Place is surrounded by
all his screamin fans. Movie premiere. I'm out front an carryin a 
hidden piece. Glock 19. Shouldn't have to use it on him but I will. 

Fuckin ratbag. Earns more in a month than I do in a year. I'm holdin
down a factory job just now plus this shit. Hope he goes crazy on me. 
Then I can pull the Glock on him. 

Here comes the cunt now. He's drivin. Christ that car must be worth a
coupla hundred grand. There's a blonde bimbo beside him. Jeeze, what a 
pair on her. Could balance an ashtray on the fuckers. She can suck my 
Glock anytime. 

Rock Star Cunt parks up an jumps out. Waves to the screamin mob. Goes
round an opens the door for Bimbo. Christ, she's wearin a tight skirt 
that hardly covers her ass. Man, I could spend a long time just kissin 
those bare suntanned thighs. 

Rock Star Cunt an Bimbo come up the stairs. 

I stroll forward an hold out my hand an stop him. “Excuse me, sir,” I
say, “but the rules have changed. No parkin out front anymore. Traffic 
was gettin blocked. Everybody has to park round the side.” 

Rock Star Cunt looks at me in surprise. Turns an grins at Bimbo. Turns
back an grins at me. 

He's gonna say it. I know he's gonna say it. Come on, come on, say it.
Say it you son of a bitch. Say, “Do you know who I am?” Just say it you 
prick. 

Rock Star Cunt looks back at the sports car. Looks back at me. 

“Do you know,” he starts off. 

That's it! Come on, say it you fucker! Say it!! Say it!!! 

“Do you know, I think you're right, man,” he says. “Can see how it'll
block the traffic.” He grins at Bimbo. “Be right back, baby. Won't take 
but two minutes.” 

He strolls back to the sports car. Jumps in and drives it round the
side. All the fans are screamin. So am I. Inside. 

Rock Star Cunt strolls back up to us. “Hey bro, thanks for keepin me
right,” he says to me. He takes out a wad of hundreds thick as your 
wrist. Peels off a couple. Sticks them in my top pocket. “Have a drink 
on me, dude,” he says, grinnin. He puts his arm round Bimbo's waist an 
they stroll off up the red carpet. 

The bastard. 

LEGEND 

I've watched you from a distance watched you from afar I've got your
pictures on my wall Mister Superstar. 

I've listened to all your songs know them all by heart you've been my
hero for long enough envied you from the start. 

But I'm tired of all this distance this worship from afar John, it's
time to get close to you and change the way you really are. 

Yeah one day I'll get near, near to you, John yeah one day soon I'm
gonna get close real close to you, John gonna get real close to you and 
there's nothing you can do. 

I jetted in from Hawaii although I hate to fly passed the time cleaning
my gun and reading Catcher In The Rye. 

I checked out your apartment can't afford a lapse as usual there were
fans of yours taking photographs. 

The one taken outside the Dakota hey man, ain't that a laugh I'm
standing right behind you just after you gave me your autograph! 

Yeah I've got near near to you, John told you I'd get close real close
to you, John closing in on you and there's nothing you can do. 

I returned a few hours later and waited patiently knew what I was gonna
do understood my destiny. 

My own life's pretty shabby nothing quite worked out for me but it's
time for that to change to change from Mister Nobody. 

You were walking on thin ice when you strolled to those stairs I drew
the gun, I felt quite calm people screaming everywhere. 

Yoko was right beside you but it's you I'm here to kill saw four bullets
hit you hey man, what a thrill! 

And when the killing's over yes and when they ask me why I'll just shrug
and maybe say that I'm just a jealous guy. 

Yeah I got near near to you, John told you I'd get close real close to
you, John well I got close to you and there was nothing you could do. 

If there was anyone in this world anyone that I could be I'd love to
have been you, John you were my double fantasy. 

But there ain't no room for both of us hey that's what I'll tell the
Judge can't have two of me in this world there's only one of us. 

The Court did not believe me but they couldn't quite decide so it looks
like I've committed this living suicide. 

They sentenced me to life in jail seems like an eternity with other
lunatics I'm caged never to be free. 

So now I'm famous too, John but it's quite a different kind whereas you
are a legend I'm just a legend in my own mind. 

But I got near near to you, John didn't I get close real close to you,
John yeah I got near near to you, John close, real close to you, John 
and there was nothing you could do just nothing you could do. 


Tweet