A Collaberative Conundrum

by Not Professor Kokonoe

Intro 2/2 Derail

If someone were to ask me what would be a good day to die I would have to answer Saturday. Though if you were to ask me why I would have picked Saturday, it would be because that was just the day my death happened to have landed on. Though in all honesty I could have not died that day and just have gone on with my existence. I could have finally changed the world, cured cancer, or something that would label me as a productive member of society. However, thanks to the not so subtle mental conditioning that, being arguably dumb enough to do so, the United States Army gave me It would be the first option. Possibly not in the way that would be recorded in history if I had any say.

Now, you might be thinking that I died overseas in Iraq or Afghanistan fighting for what-have-you, but I had already gotten out of the army at this point. I had actually been out for years and was just going about my life after moving back to Mesa, Arizona working a minimum wage job while trying to do better. But there are things that after two tours and several years of active duty service that will stick till the day you die no matter what you do. Unfortunately, in my case that means protecting the people from threats both foreign and domestic. However, that doesn’t mean that I can’t be unhappy about it even if I do it willingly. Much like every person who is working a job they hate and so on. Which of course leads up to the situation that I had put myself in.

First, I would like it to be known and go on the record that I was an absolute horrible human being. Yet, I considered myself to be an excellent earthling. I would constantly be thinking about how many of the things that humans covet, enjoy, and enforce are absolute madness and what I would do to change it. Then of course I would be thinking about how to deal with the people that would resist and so on but, that's not really the point. I love dead baby jokes. I would make racist jokes left and right with others even though I’m both Black and Navajo. Rather than be ‘nice’ about telling someone they were wrong about something I would call them retarded for not understanding something that can be explained by Barney. Sure, I do courteous and polite things, such as holding the door open for people, and helping people who move into the neighborhood move their furniture if I’m walking by. But, at the end of the day, I’m still an asshole.

So as I had lead myself back from working at a flower shop walking back to my apartment I had remembered that I still needed a second pair of slacks and a suit vest for when I had to look professional for things. Even though I was a veteran with an education background in sociology, for all the wrong reasons, all people are going to see upfront is a black man with an afro even if I’m Navajo. So, hoping the discount clothing store had some good prices for my clown suits I headed over to the mall. Now let me tell you… Talk about some fucking bullshit.

While I was going through the racks of slacks that were by one of the registers looking at some khaki pants and debating to continue to look for a pair of dark or light green ones, or be done with it I heard some guy who I could barely remember at this point start yelling about some other pointless shit or another. After working in the hell that is being an employee in a retail store I already could guess that the person yelling was a customer and more than likely a complete fucking idiot who can't read. Either way, I was curious and if at all possible I would have loved to make fun of the person for being dumb with some good old fashioned open mockery and made my way over as did a couple of other people. That was mistake number one right there.

As I got closer there was some average joe of a guy who had a couple pairs of pants and some button up shirts standing at that somewhat socially awkward spot that is the next in line person. Which, judging by his body language, was probably even more awkward than normal. This is however the point in which the yelling customer pulled out a pistol and started swinging it around a people. Fuck my life.

It’s at this point in which you would think that the war proven veteran would relish at this chance to once again prove their prowess in combat once more and be lauded as a hero of the people once again. I, however, was just very, very upset that my peaceful boring and uneventful day was ruined. Because of course I accepted a lifetime oath because I was a dumb seventeen year old kid who didn’t know what to do with life and joined the army just because both his parents did it. Fuck damn it all. So with the background that I had and also working a construction job before my current one I had the one thing that they all would have. A fixed blade knife sitting in my front pocket, and now I had to deal with this worthless scrap of afterbirth.

With an internal roar of frustration, I moved carefully to be out of his more accessible lines of sight, and set down the khaki slacks that I noticed I was still hanging on to onto a clothing rack. After unburdening myself I slid my left hand into my pocket and unlocked my knife from its sheath while casually making my way over to the gunman. It was during this I was able to take in some details about him as he started demanding the money in the register. His clothing was slightly dirty as if he was sitting on a dusty bench and only casually dusted himself off so he might have just spent the day and possibly previous night outside so he might be homeless. His slightly matted hair and ungroomed facial hair helped solidify this thought as I caught a side profile of him while he pointed the gun at the person that was standing in line behind him. Apparently he hadn’t thought it a good idea to not be near the guy threatening people with a gun.

Unfortunately it was during this observation I noted the clearly desperate person was now fixated on the guy who was just standing there and Mr. Gunman McHomeless’ finger was moving about erratically on the trigger. It was at this point I had to make a decision. Go for the gunman or his target. The target was closer to me by at least two running steps and of course in my infinite wisdom I chose to make sure no one was harmed. I rushed the guy just standing there and shoulder tackled him out of the way and onto the floor. This however startled the other one since he truly must not have noticed me. Talk about a missed opportunity there. Though the feel of a hole being ripped in my chest and out my back was an opportunity I did not miss out on.

Talk about fuck me right? I had just managed to steady myself as he pulled the trigger again and a bullet went straight into where my liver should be and stayed down in there. I would like to deny any screams of pain that came out of me at that moment and any video evidence is doctored. At this point I raised my left hand holding the knife and rushed at him knowing full well that I still had a good chance at surviving this. A third bullet caught me in the gut in the time it took me to reach him and grab the slide of the gun. I pulled the barrel downwards not wanting anyone else to get shot because I pointed the gun in a random direction. The reward for that effort was a fourth bullet hitting me in the leg as I barreled into him sending both of us to the ground. Knowing the gun was jammed it was my turn and using both hands stabbed at the left side of his chest and felt the blade graze a rib and sink into a lung.

At that point I was yelling in an amount of rage that would have made a well known prince blush. I stabbed down a second time and felt it dig into his sternum and only got angrier. I’m quite sure I was swearing but weather it was English, Navajo, or unintelligible gibberish I couldn’t say. Not really thinking about it at the time, but, looking back third time's the charm right? I got him right in the heart and felt the four inch knife go in halfway down the handle. Breathing harder and in more pain than I’ve ever been in my life and ignoring most of it with the the help of anger I grabbed his pistol that the guy was still squeezing the trigger of over and over again and cycled the spent casing and jabbed the barrel into one of his dying eyes as I stared down into the other. I would like to think I sounded cool while telling the man I was going to kill who I was, but I’m sure it sounded like gibberish. “Specialist RpamwuFwesukNyrkwt **** 3rd Squadron 73rd Cavalry Regiment 1st Brigade Combat Team 82nd Airborne Division.”

After I had pulled the trigger and dropped the gun I tried rising to my feet only to fall over clenching my jaw hard to stop the scream of pain from getting out and rolled onto my back. I looked down at myself and saw blood falling out of the holes in my torso and to my immediate horror spurting bright red from my leg. The last bullet caught me in the femoral artery and, now moving off more adrenaline than I thought my body could produce, yanked my slip belt off as fast as possible. I could dimly hear people yelling and screaming and a lot of movement as I was more focused on using my belt as a makeshift tourniquet.

As my senses went back to paying attention to the world around me I saw another pair of hands join my blood drenched ones and help me secure the belt slowing the blood flow to a slow steady stream. Though looking down and around me it might have been obvious as too little to late. Coughing hard and doing my best to breath i felt and tasted blood in my mouth and I couldn’t feel my lips, hands, or feet. Not a good sign by any stretch. Looking up to the person that helped me I noticed it was the guy who I shoulder tackled and I glared at him with as much hatred as I could muster as this is not the first time I had felt myself feel hemorrhagic shock start to think about making some travel plans.

Getting a mouthful of blood from a coughing fit while doing my best to breathe as much air in through my nose I spit it right in his face. I was quite adamant about how much I wanted him to know how much I hated him at that moment. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” If people weren't stunned at what I just did they were now. “Why in the fuck did you not run or move when someone pulls a fucking gun on you?!” I could hear an ambulance siren blaring and knowing that the nearest hospital is less than half a mile away I’m sure how long it took me to hear it wasn’t a good thing either. “I fucking hope your limp dick falls off you balless bitch!”

It was at that point I vaguely remember being treated by paramedics because most of that was a blur of pain, lights, and sound with no real way to properly process it all. Though I do know for a fact I conked out for good in the back of that ambulance because when I opened my eyes to see nothing that would have made any sense whatsoever. Even though a lot of the pieces I had from my last bout of consciousness were still there. Covered in blood… check. Body in pain… kinda check. Desperate need for oxygen... check and no longer an issue. Dark sand colored fur and the chemical smell of amniotic fluid, after birth, and shit… WHAT THE FUCK!?

Comments

[Xzeron2000]

you monsters

oh, wait

i am one of those monsters