Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

This guy I know, he's a neighbor of mine, he wants me to die. It's mutual. But I cant do anything about it directly, because of my nature, and he cant, either, because he's a big fucking pussy. I can wait him out. He's twice my age and it's not like I'm 4. But the waiting is getting to be a strain.

I know I cant kill him directly because the honorable way for me to kill him is indirectly, by living well. I am living well. I drive by his house regularly, out of necessity, and I feel him staring out the window at me, wanting me to die, angry that I am living well. I know that my living well will kill him eventually. I just wish it would happen more quickly.

He is going to have a heart attack sooner or later, or a stroke. He is a drunk and an angry person. He carries grudges and has an immovable opinion about everything he sees. His opinions about things were determined many years ago. Now, he simply applies his opinions as best he can over anything new he encounters. Laziness like this amazes me. It's almost impressive, if it werent so harmful to our world.

Some nights I decide that I can directly murder him because his way of living is directly harmful to the world. He is a threat to society, to children, to the survival of good and progressive living. But at night, things are clear that in the day become muddled, and they dont hold trials at night.

I saw him yesterday out in the woods hunting deer. He pretends to be of open mind. He listens to NPR, but I know he does this only in order to apply his opinions to real topics of the day. When he's home alone, at night, in his clarity, he watches Fox News. He jerks off to Bill O'Reilly's inane sidebar. With his hunting rifle and glowing orange gear, he looked like someone who might be mistaken by a deer in the muddled daytime of ignorant, drunk, triggerhappy woodsmen. This might be my chance, I thought.

But I dont own a gun. I'd have to travel up the road to the sporting goods emporium and probably have to deal with a waiting period, lots of credit checks, which I would fail. Oh irony of life!

Through my kitchen window I saw him aiming at a deer. I raised my arms in a gun pose, without a gun, setting him in my imaginary crosshairs. I would have to blow through the glass of my window to get to him. It would be loud and crashing and powerful, tiny steel tossed explosively through glass and air, cold and firm. There would be human blood instead of deer blood, and they would surely string me up for that.

It's possible that in the night, he will see things as they are and he will come to kill me directly in order to remove the pain of seeing me living well and happy. Then, I can respond by out muscling him, and I can kill him directly in self-defense. That would take the ringer out of it. I wouldnt have any guilt, and I would get away with it.

For now, though, I'm left to live well. I drive by his house as often as I can, and usually I honk, bringing him to the shutters in his fear and disappointment that I am still there. One day, I know, I will have an ambulance party as they cart him off, clutching his chest in pain, futile. Things will be better then, for me, for you, for our children.