A Random Write, can’t say it’s positive!

The trigger holds in haste, a flick either which wretched way could cause the enveloping fire, a calm voice to rest angels in their beds could cause the fire to fade a thousand times the rate of love hitting the ground

“Ain’t worth the shot buddy, the bitch ain’t paying enough a fee to loss y’cool” a hunched figure in corners deep ushers words to take an edge off infinite anxiety with a voice so chillingly cold “not a damn bitch worth that black hole of a crap storm in my opinionated view” he cuts a fine finish in verbally sly style

Hap hazard attired and shaking an earthquake of forceful nerves, the damning shadow of a man hugs the gun with nervous fury, almost as much as the glass in the other trembling hand “She had it, the damn women had my fucking balls” a guttural shout leaves his emotionally darkening features with acidic prose “one bloody slap and hell takes all I own, no one believes it wasn’t my fault” the barman stonily pouring another shot, no much regard in casual eyes as the hunched figured gets the next round

A drink wielding hand threatens a rise from the dark corners bar stool, three metal shackles on a single finger visible before liquid calm swills down the hunched figures charismatic mouth “Count your storm riding arse lucky it’s only one hag you owe a bullet” laughs a cackling comment to humorously stay the arse end of night’s hour’s heavy air

Glasses empty, refreshed, empty again “She holds a friggin religious ban on that fine body of hers, plays it hot with every guy at her stag fest of an office and then icy winds is all I get” guttural shout mellows to calculating poison on every hatred soaked verb, gun as ever in close proximity to an ever fuming head of bad emotions and ill reflective memories “she even told the cops I tried to… forced myself on her” such low hanging sentiment on that last condemning line as to make a shallow grave blush with shame

The dark cornered figure flashes a grim glimpse of something resembling an attempt at a grin, in loose definitions to boot “The last one that played that game…” such slow motion time frames to hold the rooms attention hostage adding a sinister pause its dues in dramatic fashion “…her best friend was my revenge, one damn sweet form of fury to drive the bitch to crazy crap” no laugh required as both men did scare to extreme effect with their tempered smiles

The shaking subsided to solid intent with a motion so calmly done that even the bartenders rolling eyes took attentive note, gun mockingly mowing down bottles behind the bar in childish gesture and loaded manner “Took to her office almost a full loaded clips worth of treats, the boss pleading sweet mercy as the wife looked a fucking mess” gun retracted, eyes direct in the dark figures direction to aim every terrible potential that awful tale could imply with such easy mental reach “they all got left breathing and in one piece, much to my regret” focus letting up a notch form damn crazy psycho to mental patient before the meds

A look to equal the suicidal, gut toting psycho, shot back a thousand strong to match the severe affect was in every bit of the dark figures fiery stare back “The second, that bar steward saw the ring and still fucked her, fucked me when he gave me a knowing grin” another raise of the three ringed finger followed to add perspective to latest verbal besting of the gun toting psycho, a game as loaded as it was deadly as the weapon with trigger perched so precariously “I made sure mine was clear and dandy as the wife’s grand a pop piece of marital jewellery found a new home in his throat” an after laugh to carry the final insult “still stung when he gave his piece to the lawyers, went that deep and needed surgery to finally depart”

The gun rested as best a live wire could when lying on a ten story electrical fire ready to happen, barman pouring steady as the poor sod in alcohol induced fervour slumped his head defeated “You win officer lawman sir, I doth my gun in your direction and you can have me for a fancy legal show” in respect to the dark figures badge he did release the weapon to free a hand for mockingly saluting the refined drunk who had imbibed half a bottle of scotch to talk down his target “any advice before I face the hangman?” a rejectful tone to carry sour the bitter aftertaste of failure

The dark figure rose majestically in a half stumbling stupor every ounce the drunkard who stumbled in just half an hour earlier, a badge clumsily raised as the immortal words of a victorious general did loudly echo to the barflies still lingering “Barman, two of your finest before I give this guy a five star ride to hotelious glory that is our finest drunk tank” before fumbling further as a clown in all but attire to speak into the much agitated radio “ye ye ye, another few minutes and we’re out boss” … “no I’m not drink, again” … “obviously I knew the guy was heading here, that’s why I was waiting for him” … “piss off”

Two men slept off their alcohol that night, as to which deserved to suffer the most; the only difference between these A-holes was a badge and a uniform!

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