“When you’re in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, ‘Damn, that was fun’.”
― Groucho Marx
I heard his footfalls, as I do everyday. He stopped in front of my cell as he does everyday. He smiled his evil smile and said, “Are you ready boy?”
Everyday I am given a task to complete. And if accomplished, I will be set free. However, the tasks are always inexecutable.
“Today,” said he, “I want you to write a story. It must be exactly seventy-nine words and have a plot and characterization.”
“Damn you to hell warden!”
We were in love … so in love. It was summertime, it was the beginning of our lives. It was the end of our lives. She was a black hair beauty, loving me as no one has ever loved me. The time spent with her was so sweet. Her skin, her smile, her everything … I loved her so much. So it’s funny how things worked out.
Her father did not approve of me, he thought me a loser, not good enough for his daughter. When I came calling, he would show his disapproval of me by addressing me as the bug he thought I was. Never a civil word.
But she and I were in love. The old man didn’t matter … nothing mattered. We had nothing to lose. We had each other.
We decided to run away … we were in love … we were young …
So sweet …
I went to her house that night … that horrible night. She was to be outside waiting for me, but she wasn’t. Instead, her father met me. He had a gun.
I loved his daughter and because of that, he pointed the gun at me and squeezed the trigger.
The gun misfired.
Without thinking, I took the gun from him. Without thinking, I turned the gun and pointed it at him. Without thinking, I killed him.
Now I am awaiting my execution … I sit in a prison cell and think of my black haired beauty.