The half-forgotten
Other half of my short life
In short story form

 
Pyrotechnics
3-23-2002

I was on the outskirts of a town I'd never been to before, yet I was a soldier or defender for this town, and I was with my comrades on the field. I was facing some hills and mountains, and I saw dark shapes running over them. I pulled out my sniper rifle and zoomed in. I took out dozens of enemy troops, who were all just dark spots in my field of view. As they neared, I pulled out my pistol, instead. Somehow they couldn't see me, as I was in the shadow of the mountain, though in plain view. I shot another in the back of the head before the cavalry came in. I wasn't going to surrender, but my comrades weren't doing much good. The cavalry seemed impervious to my pistol.

Turned out they were Columbian drug lords, and they forced their way into our mansion. Then I realized we didn't have a mansion, and this wasn't our property, nor town. I guessed that we have previously taken all this land from them, and this was our retribution. Nonetheless, I made my way into the mansion before they did, to defend it, and squatted down in one of the main hallways. I popped off several rounds as the big bosses came around the corner, escorted by my own men, who had surrendered. My rounds were ineffective. I ran out of ammo. An old man grabbed my gun from me as if I were a child.

Noone pestered me, and I walked about freely, though I was supposedly an underling. One of the bosses hated the food that the cook served, so I took it and ate it...tasty lamb morsels on spicy mashed potatoes.

I went to the basement where the remaining resistance was holding out. I found myself on my cell phone with a girl, someone I was supposed to meet up with soon. As I explained what was going on, I overheard some guys saying they'd just finished planting all the explosives. They were going to leave without me! Still on the phone, I followed my comrades out into the front parking circle, where we had a single car. Someone opened the trunk, and I dove into it. It slammed shut and the car screeched off.

Bullets crashed through the windows, and I found myself slouched down in the back seat. I still had the phone to one ear with my left hand, and in my right, I had a pistol. There was a detonator on some sort of shelf in front of me, right above my head, and a bullet hit it. I thought the car was going to explode. Then another one hit it, but it still didn't go off. I told the girl on the phone that we were probably going to die. Although it was immensely premature in terms of our relationship, I told her I loved her, because I figured it was something I might have had the chance to feel for her someday anyway. I turned off the phone so she wouldn't hear it all end. My hand was by the back window, and I was afraid it would got shot. I dared a peek out the side window, and it was a cop car. I couldn't get any shots off. There were three cop cars around us, one swerving in front of us to cause an accident. More were ahead in the distance, and I knew more were behind, too. We crashed into the police car barricade with a dazzling display of pyrotechnics. I imagined myself holding that girl, and we all died.

I was pissed. Pissed about everything that had just happened, including the death. I got up, screamed, and kicked a bunch of cans and stuff against a wall. I went back into town to see if the explosives had gone off in the mansion. Under normal circumstances it would have been dangerous to go back, but since I was dead, I didn't think anyone would recognize me. I made my way up a road that wound up a hill, and out onto a cliff with houses on it. This wasn't the right way. I went back down and took another branching street and found the mansion. There were tons of tourists there. The place had totally blown up. I walked along an old wall ledge above the property to scope it out. I saw some people I knew, so I jumped down off the ledge to meet them. I don't remember what was said.

I went inside the home, and it has been completely remodeled already. I remembered that this home had belonged to my relatives, but I guessed my cousin was killed in the explosion, so his wife had sold it already in her grief. Instead of the nice traditional furnishings, the walls were white with intermittent vertical stripes of yellow and blue. The furniture was likewise white, hard, and very uninviting. In the immediate room to the left, someone was peddling useless junk. I went straight ahead into the kitchen, took a right through the hallway, then right again into the living room. There was crappy 10" TV in the corner on the floor and some meager tables and chairs. One of the walls had been patched up to separate this room from the foyer. A salesman came in, giving a tour for some other people. I mentioned this wall. He took a look at it and seemed astounded, even though it was obvious.

I went to my relatives' new house, and they were actually both alive. Some other guy was there, my age, whom I didn't know. We had dinner. I was expected to stay for a moment of silence, and then for an hour to play some stupid game, all of which would have taken the rest of the night. I skipped out to run around town. It was night now. I don't remember what I did, but when I came back, they were waiting for me. Now they could begin the game, so all I'd done was prolong the evening. They were only paying me minimum wage for this, so I stuffed it.

Something about getting a ride to karate class, being late, getting mad at the driver.


posted by Phlegm at 11/26/2003