Prose

Honey Bunches of oats

written by: Daniel91

He had been walking up and down the aisle. He was looking for that damn milk that she wanted for her damn cereal. You would think a store this size, would defiantly have some milk. But nope he had just been walking down the aisles like a damn fool."Screw it" he said, "She will rip my ass, but screw her she always finds something to yell about." He thought, Hmm he actually hoped for fight. He wanted a reason to lose control, to get away with at least one slap.

All he wanted to do when she would flap her mouth was to shut it with a good slap, but his mama taught him better than that. He began to walk to the front and he heard the loudest sound in his life. It was the sound of a shotgun, and then he heard "EVERYBODY GET DOWN NOW!" It was a junkie. A junkie that went too long without a fix. The junkie had sunken in eyes and a frail body, if he didn't have the gun. He could have taken the junkie down. But he wasn't about to risk his neck, he got down on the ground.

He never had been so fucking scared in his life. A million and one thoughts were going through his head. From his first bike, to his first dirty mag, all the way to his first fuck, Sarah Carter. Everything was going so fast, but yet so slow. He looked around to the other customers; they were all being good little sheep. Never looking at their master, funny how fear does that to people. He wondered if anybody had kids at home or were thinking why in the hell did this happen to me.

He remembered when he was a little boy in church. It was right before he found his pecker had more than one use and Sarah Carter was just maturing, the golden years one may say. The preacher was preaching that God loved us all, and God only does things for the good of us. He thought how does God thinks it's good to be stuck with a nagging bitch for four years, or to be stuck in this fucking situation.

He eventually came back to the present the junkie had been walking around the store. The junkie was making sure nobody got too stupid, him and the junkie caught eyes. It was like a kindred spirit met its other half, but it was a dark twisted version. The junkie hit him with gun and yelled"FACE DOWN!!"

The junkie went to the cashier and said "GIVE ME THE MONEY!". The cashier was paralyzed by the sight of the double barrel. The junkie grabbed the cashier and hit him with the butt of the gun. The cashier fell down to the ground, he said"Ple...Plea...Please sir, we only have 50 bucks in the register." The junkie was enraged because this wasn't enough money for his fix.

He held the gun up and painted the walls with the cashier's guts. It was as beautiful as a Pollack master piece. "OH SHIT, OH SHIT!" the junkie was losing whatever pieces of his mind he had left. He thought where the hell is God now? He made the mistake of looking at the flipping junkie, the junkie said "YOU GET UP NOW!" "Oh fuck." he thought, he slowly got up knees about to give out. He started to feel something warm run down his leg. "Shit I just pissed myself." he thought, does everybody piss themselves in these things?

Thee junkie said to him "OPEN THAT FUCKING RESITGER NOW!!" he was paralyzed by the fear only a man who only cared about himself could feel. He said "I...I...I don't know how to ma...man." The junkie looked at him and said "Fuck you man!" He had to close his eyes for the inevitable dirt nap he was about to take. He heard the shot and saw the white light, he saw everybody he knew. Even the bitch that caused this whole fucking thing, oh how he hated her.

"Please God; let me live so I could teach that stupid bitch a lesson." He said. Moments began to turn into minutes. He opened his eyes and saw the junkie on the floor bleeding, and a cop over him. He couldn't believe that stupid bitch almost got him killed for milk. The cops take the junkie away and he gives them his statement. He was going to walk himself home to change his underwear and to lose control

Just to let you guys know remember this is a story I don't really feel like this about women! The way I write my stories is I basically lived them. I'm not the narrator but the invisible person in the story; it's really hard to explain...I hope you like it! If not I completely understand