He was trudging the last mile to the tall glass doors at 7:32 AM, dreading homeroom, when a lowrider pickup truck full of coked-out football players pulped his midsection and shattered his skull. His last thoughts were that he wouldn’t be able to make up the SAT’s, and that he’d forgotten to take out the trash before his hasty exit and grateful Marlboro.
He couldn’t die. He had finals. The thought kept slipping away and coming back. His will to power rose slowly, morgue scenes and darkness in between strobing across the backs of his eyelids.
His teachers were always telling him that he could move mountains if he just buckled down and did it. But it was touch and go for a while.
The sealant on the grave liner was still fresh when he finally got his head back somehow.
When he got back home, his parents reamed him out and made him get a summer job to pay for the funeral…
Death, Inc. by Edward Morris: Installment 2 Live
November 12, 2009 by mercuryrx