It was sometime after 11. Kind of the middle of the night, and I was in a dark alley, which happened to be a necessary evil on my route. I was on my way home when I was accosted by a stranger. “Please sir,” he asked. “Are you alone?” Well that’s a weird question. Not to mention creepy.
“I think you’re lying sir. I think you’re alone. And that’s good. Because I really need to kill you”
What?! That did it. I ran like the hounds of hell were after me. Rapid footfalls behind me warned me that I was not alone. I kept at it and soon sighted a phone booth. Quickly, I slipped in and shut the door on my pursuer. Thank God for phone booths!
He banged on the door once.
Twice. And then in a very calm, silky smooth voice…
“Sir. You’re making this difficult for everyone. Why don’t you come outside, I kill you, then I go home. The end.”
That’s like capital weird. No way I’m coming out, no way.
Then it hits me. I’m in a phone booth! Quickly I dial 911. A male picks.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone wants to kill me.”
“Oh. Would that someone be a white male, average height, soft spoken, dressed in T-shirt and jeans?”
This night is getting creepier.
“Well that’s my brother Carl. He wants to kill you and he should. You have no emergency. Goodbye.”
“@!#*•!!” after a fair bit of cussing, I notice the young man waited patiently outside.
“Are you done, sir?” still so freaking polite.
“Yes. I guess so.”
“Good. Can you come out now?”
“Why? So you can kill me?”
“Yes. Please come out now.”
“No. I’ll never come out.”
“But sir, you can’t stay in there forever”
Back and forth like that for all off thirty minutes. Then he produces a knife to pick his teeth with.
“Is that what you plan to kill me with?”
“Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Nope. I don’t want to die. Well I might die someday, but I’d rather it wasn’t today. And not by your hand. You see, I’d rather die. in a bed. Of old age.”
“But sir, I have to kill you. It’s imperative that I do. Have you considered the benefits of being dead? No need to eat. Or sleep. You don’t feel pain.”
“You’re insane.” He brings out a gun. It’s shotgun with the mouth sawed off. I can see light glinting off the edge. At this point, I may or may not have peed my pants. But it is wet somewhat. He smiles at me and taps the gun with the middle finger of his left hand. I’m silently reciting my version the Lord’s prayer in my head.
“My father, who art in heaven. I know I’ve been bad. But I don’t deserve to die this way. I’ve done nice things to people too, I-”
“I’m going to break in now and kill you. Are you scared?”
“Of course I am you psychopathic dimwit!” Imagine the nerve!
“Good. Cause you’re on scare tactics. It’s 12. Happy birthday sir.”
My mouth falls open
I hear laughter behind me.
He turns around and walks away without even looking back once.
I had been set up.
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