An extremely sad thing has happened to me. My best and only friend in the whole
world has died. And even though it pains me to say this, I am to blame for it.
You see, my friend was an old, blind man, and I was his walking stick. His blindness was due to the result of an industrial accident that forced him to retire. At first, he hated me, and I hated him. He would yell and curse at me, sometimes going as far as to try and break me or toss me into the fire. I would trip him and make him fall, preferably down stairs. He was a very proud man, and I guess he was angry because he was blind and needed help.
This hate eventually turned into the best friendship anyone could have. He would take me to the park and tell me about all the adventures he had in his life. I taught him how to shut up annoying little brats. This got us into trouble a couple of times, but oh how much fun it was.
Life was great during this time. Then one day he got a call. It seems his only child, and only living relative, died tragically in an automobile accident. Besides me, my friend was all alone. He grieved for the longest time, but, after a little bit, he seemed to be happy.
It turned out that he met someone on one of our daily walks to the park. Her name was Alice. She was a sweet, kind woman. I liked her at first, but then she changed. She was always telling my friend that he didn’t need me with her around. And since she was constantly around him, this meant that he didn’t need me at all. Well, I couldn’t have this!! So, on a dreary night, when Alice got up to go make some tea, I waited for her just right at the top of the staircase. The next thing you know, there is a loud crash, and no more Alice!!!
I was extremely happy, but my friend wasn’t. He started to visit a smelly, dirty place called One Eyed Jack’s Tavern. He would stay all day doing nothing but getting drunk. I was okay with this, not thrilled, but I could live with it. Then his personality changed. He was no longer kind and gentle. He was mean and cruel. He was a drunken psychopath.
We started to fight again. He would yell at me, telling me I was the reason for all his troubles. He would throw me against the wall. This hurt me, both physically and mentally, but I would always forgive him. One night though, he did something that I shall never forgive him for.
It was dark and stormy that night. My friend had just returned home from his daily trip to the hellhole, and he was in one of his drunken fits again. I was sitting beside him, ignoring him, watching the fire, making sure that it stayed in its place. Being made of wood and totally afraid of fires, it never hurts to be careful. The next thing I know, I am picked up by the old man, who is yelling incomprehensible words, and broke in two! He tried to toss me in the fire, but slipped and fell, and remained that way until morning. The next day, he kept telling me how sorry he was, and how we would never fight again. He eventually fixed me, and our friendship was back to normal, or so he thought.
It was a normal day, and my friend was making the usual rounds at the bars. I don’t really remember how it happened, but I ended up getting a whole pitcher of beer spilled on me. I ended up very drunk and in a very foul mood. I started to do horrible things, blaming it all on the old man. I raised waitresses’ skirts, I tripped the manager and made him break his ankle, and I poked a gentleman’s eye out. The old man was forced to leave.
As we were walking home, we got into another fight. Being in my current drunken state, I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. I pushed my only friend out in front of an oncoming bus. There was a screeching of tires and an explosion of blood as my friend was dragged under and dismembered. I immediately passed out.
When I came to, I was in an overturned garbage can. Police and ambulance cars were everywhere. I noticed that quite a few of the bus passengers were talking to various officials. I also noticed how the officials were collecting pieces of my friend off the road. I passed out again.
I awoke to rats chewing on me. But that was not what woke me up. A dog, an ugly mongrel of a dog, was pissing on me. This shocked and disgusted me so that I hit him right where it counts. He ran off with a yelp.
That was roughly two days ago. I am still in my garbage can, waiting for who knows what. Wait a minute! I hear someone coming. I am being picked up and thrown into the back of a garbage truck. It’s smelly and slimy in here.
I’m guessing that it’s an hour or so later, and I can tell that we have arrived at the dump. The truck is tilting back, so I guess I’m being dumped out, doomed to spend eternity rotting away. Wait……is that………it can’t be………oh please not this…….OH NO!!!!!!!!!! OH PLEASE GOD, NOT THIS!!!!!!!! ANYTHING BUT THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Okay Jimmy, let ‘er rip!”
The man named Jimmy reaches over and pulls a lever. This lever is very special. This lever just so happens to start the dump’s incinerator. So our little friend’s worst fear came true. He was burned alive, thrashing and screaming in the hell he created. Kind of like that old saying. You know the one: what goes around comes around.
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