Mean Mister Martyr (standard:other, 1862 words)
Author: Greggo	Added: Apr 16 2002	Views/Reads: 3216/2211	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
When two young lovers first meet: THIS STORY IS NOT A STORY ABOUT THAT! I just don't know what would best describe it. Read it and tell me...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Maybe they'll commit me for such thoughts. 

Joe, a new acquaintance of mine, says that I don't have to be crazy to
believe in God, he says that I must have a lot of patience though, more 
than him anyway. I guess it sounds strange to think that someone is 
being guided through life as some sort of savior. I imagine myself 
doing any number of things. Sometimes I invent internally a scene where 
a child wanders into traffic and just as a car sweeps in I dive, almost 
flying, to save him. All of this would be caught on tape, for the 
evening news, and I would be a hero. Whatever He has planned for me I 
hope it's good. 

After my folks were buried I called Mary Steiner. I hadn't seen her for
awhile, with the funeral and all, so I decided to go for it. That night 
we made love for the first time and, knowing there was something 
special between us, we decided to be an exclusive couple. Everything 
melded after that. That sense that I was on my way to fulfill my 
destiny seemed clearer and clearer. I gave the homeless any change that 
weighed in my pockets. I stopped my car whenever someone was crossing 
the street even when it wasn't a crosswalk.  When Josh told me that he 
was going to be a dad, I took him out for drinks. Everything was 
falling into place. 

That Friday, Josh and I had a few shots to celebrate our good fortune.
We laughed until midnight. When we parted he grabbed the first cab that 
came and, since he was going the opposite direction, we agreed that I 
would take the next one. Ten minutes and then twenty passed: I couldn't 
wait all night. I went back inside the bar for a nightcap. I ordered a 
scotch and played pool alone; the bar wasn't half full. I met another 
patron and we started playing, I welcomed the company after having so 
much to drink and no one to talk to. Her name was Misty and she must've 
been a few years younger. Also, she was a better drunken pool player 
than I was. At last-call we were still going. I called Mary, waking her 
up, to tell her I wouldn't be home that night. She didn't seem to care. 


So Misty and I started an affair. Her life was in ruin and she needed a
distraction. Don't get me wrong, I love my girlfriend and would never 
hurt her, it's just that I had to explore whether God had other plans 
for me. We became each others emotional retreat. After two months Misty 
was pregnant. Oops! In retrospect, I acted a little too harshly. I lost 
my temper with her, cursing her stupidity and lack of foresight. She 
told me to marry her and I told her no. I told her that I had prior 
obligations. We cried together and then I left her. I was distracted  
when I read in the paper of her death a few weeks later. It portrayed a 
picture of Misty in her high school cheerleading outfit, explaining 
that she graduated last summer. Cause of death: accidental carbon 
monoxide poisoning in her parents garage. I realized then that I had 
forgotten all about her and that, until that mornings article, I hadn't 
even known her last name nor how old she was. I skipped her funeral 
never really knowing her at all. 

I wonder how God chooses who will die and who will fulfill His glorious
chores. The idea that God might have chosen me cheered me right up; I 
cast Mistys memory aside and went ring shopping. I proposed to Mary the 
day after Mistys funeral and she said yes. Things were surely going to 
be good. 

Thinking about the events in my life I have come to one solid
conclusion. Everybody everywhere drinks and then drives at least once 
in their life. I know I have. Last month, on the verge of my wedding in 
a week's time, I went out with the guys. The T &A Gentleman's Club is a 
little out of the city slightly past the original railroad station upon 
which this town was settled around. Quite historic if you ask me. The 
dancers were divine and so was the beer apparently since I don't 
remember leaving the club.  I do remember driving my buddies' Taurus. I 
remember somebody, I think it was my best-man Josh, throwing up. Josh 
was always throwing up. Someone said that I was going too fast. How 
fast can a Taurus really go, I thought. I got it up to 70 miles per 
hour when I realized that I couldn't see anything. I've heard of 
drinking yourself blind but this wasn't the same thing. I couldn't see 
the road, only lights flashing around me. I could see the stereo, its 
volume max'd out, but I didn't see the train crossing our destined 
path. I remember slamming into it.  Not quite head-on. The police 
explained that the car swerved at the last moment and met the train 
with the passenger side. 

Everyone died except for me that night. I attended the funerals, some
caskets closed, most of those because they were disturbingly not full. 
My fiance Mary hasn't spoken to me in weeks. I hope we can work things 
out. In fact, the only person I have talked to has been my lawyer and 
my cellmate, Joe. I walked away unscathed from the accident. The papers 
call it a miracle wasted on a drunken fool but I don't think of it like 
that. If not touched by God, how does anyone explain my constant 
blessed continuance of life? What task has God for me? It better be 
good because I miss my Mary; I miss my family; I miss my friends; I 
miss my life... Oh, it's lights-out in my cell. Good night. 


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