NervousXtian, gonzo journalist.
08-29-2002, 02:58 PM
“Can I help you?”
“Mr. Davis? Is that you?”
“Here let me get you another cup of coffee”
The sounds all blur together.
In the corner booth sits a man, his clothes wrinkled, his hair rustled. The coffee lands with a slight thud, splashes of the murky brown liquid land all over the table as the cup tips over.
“Motherfucker, I’m sorry.”
Just then a phone rings. Shaking the cobwebs out of his head the man picks up the phone.
“Mr. Davis, we want to settle this right now” a rough voice says on the other end of the line.
“Mr. Davis?” the voice asked.
“Mr. Davis, we have been to your house. There is no reason to make this any worse” the voice continued talking, but the man was no longer was listening.
Scanning around the room he saw a lady lying on the ground next to the door. He set his head back down in his hands.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Davis, let me go get you a towel” nervously the waitress runs over and grabs a towel off the counter. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened, if you don’t mind me saying”
“Let me get you another cup of coffee” she looked him over for a couple moments, “Mr. Davis is there something I can get for you, something I could do for you?”
The voice in the phone was still talking. He slowly took the handset and set it back down on the reciever. As he got up from the desk something fell from his lap.
The gun rolled off his foot and laid pointing towards him, propped up on his foot. It was a 9mm. Black. He reached down and picked up the gun, it was still felt warm.
“Mr. Davis” the waitress went on as she poured him another cup of coffee,”I always knew she was up to something, I don’t know what I would of do if my boyfriend did that to me.”
The man sipped on his coffee. His stare was vacant. It had only been 3 hours since he returned home to Lumiere.
“I’d probably shoot the fucker” she joked. “Can I get you something to eat?”
The man shook his head no, and as she walked away he got up out of his seat. Laying down a 5 dollar bill on the table he hurried out the door.
The phone began to ring again. He let it ring for what seemed like 5 minutes. Finally he picked up the handset and put it to his ear.
“Alright, this is going to be your last chance. Release the hostage, or we are coming in to get you” the stern voice on the other end demanded, “Mr. Davis, we will not hesitate to use force against you, do you understand?”
“Mr. Davis?”
The handset had long since been placed back on the table.
He looked around the room, he wasn’t in Jack’s Diner anymore. The lady by door had been screaming for what seemed like hours. He looked down at himself. The gun was still in his hand.
The door swung open and he ran upstairs. Anger seemed to have taken him over. The door to the bathroom was wide open as steam poured into the hallway.
He raised the gun up.
Shots rang out.
Pieces of wood scattered across the room as the swat team entered.
It was too late.
“Mr. Davis? Is that you?”
“Here let me get you another cup of coffee”
The sounds all blur together.
In the corner booth sits a man, his clothes wrinkled, his hair rustled. The coffee lands with a slight thud, splashes of the murky brown liquid land all over the table as the cup tips over.
“Motherfucker, I’m sorry.”
Just then a phone rings. Shaking the cobwebs out of his head the man picks up the phone.
“Mr. Davis, we want to settle this right now” a rough voice says on the other end of the line.
“Mr. Davis?” the voice asked.
“Mr. Davis, we have been to your house. There is no reason to make this any worse” the voice continued talking, but the man was no longer was listening.
Scanning around the room he saw a lady lying on the ground next to the door. He set his head back down in his hands.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Davis, let me go get you a towel” nervously the waitress runs over and grabs a towel off the counter. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened, if you don’t mind me saying”
“Let me get you another cup of coffee” she looked him over for a couple moments, “Mr. Davis is there something I can get for you, something I could do for you?”
The voice in the phone was still talking. He slowly took the handset and set it back down on the reciever. As he got up from the desk something fell from his lap.
The gun rolled off his foot and laid pointing towards him, propped up on his foot. It was a 9mm. Black. He reached down and picked up the gun, it was still felt warm.
“Mr. Davis” the waitress went on as she poured him another cup of coffee,”I always knew she was up to something, I don’t know what I would of do if my boyfriend did that to me.”
The man sipped on his coffee. His stare was vacant. It had only been 3 hours since he returned home to Lumiere.
“I’d probably shoot the fucker” she joked. “Can I get you something to eat?”
The man shook his head no, and as she walked away he got up out of his seat. Laying down a 5 dollar bill on the table he hurried out the door.
The phone began to ring again. He let it ring for what seemed like 5 minutes. Finally he picked up the handset and put it to his ear.
“Alright, this is going to be your last chance. Release the hostage, or we are coming in to get you” the stern voice on the other end demanded, “Mr. Davis, we will not hesitate to use force against you, do you understand?”
“Mr. Davis?”
The handset had long since been placed back on the table.
He looked around the room, he wasn’t in Jack’s Diner anymore. The lady by door had been screaming for what seemed like hours. He looked down at himself. The gun was still in his hand.
The door swung open and he ran upstairs. Anger seemed to have taken him over. The door to the bathroom was wide open as steam poured into the hallway.
He raised the gun up.
Shots rang out.
Pieces of wood scattered across the room as the swat team entered.
It was too late.