the cheese whisperer
2013-02-13 09:52:23 UTC
All he wanted was a sandwich…
and maybe a glass of milk.
He tried to remember the last time he had milk.
He couldn’t.
He only knew his stomach hadn’t known food for three days
and now here it was, dark again.
The pain began in earnest as he slept last night.
Slept.
Yeah, right.
I guess you could call it sleep.
God, he missed his bed.
Spending the night in an alley on two pallets
and some flattened cardboard boxes was not really sleep.
Especially when you’re worried your stomach
is eating itself.
There’s plenty of time to think, staring at a rectangle of stars.
He couldn’t face another night like last.
The diner was very close...
He could see the bright light spilling from the big window, bathing
the sidewalk in a welcoming glow.
A touch of red from a large neon coffee-cup...
The smell of bacon grew perceptibly stronger.
Maybe the fat guy getting out of his truck would loan him a few bucks…?
“Hey buddy… could you loan me a few bucks to get something to eat…?”
“WHAT??? My truck gets broken into last night and my cell phone gets stolen
and now YOU stand there with the audacity to ask me for MONEY???”
The hungry man blinked and tried to understand what the fat guy was saying.
The fat man gave a sudden lunge and the hungry man felt himself being pushed, hard.
He tried not to stumble---back-pedaling and
flailing his arms in giant circles…
But it was no use.
His head struck the curb as he went down, and
a saucer of white pain exploded behind his ear.
He looked up to see the fat man pointing a gun at him.
He couldn’t help but notice the bacon-smell was stronger down here by the gutter…
A small laugh escaped his lips.
Without a word, the fat man shot him in the mouth.
His brain stem exploded from the back of his neck.
The hungry man’s stomach filled with blood
and shards of bone as the cook at the diner asked no one in particular,
“Did you just hear a gunshot?”