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You think it’s going to just be another day.   Scare the shit out of a few people, wreak a bit of havoc, catch a movie.  

Then, without warning, you get fucking blasted by the past.

Standing there, at either end of the train station platform, like gunslingers in an urban western.   My best friend Kane.   The guy who I never contacted again when I skipped town and resettled – for lots of reasons.   Kane – here,  in the city, at twenty paces, and with every reason to shoot me down for being the fucking worst friend ever in the existence of fraternal friendships.

He didn’t waste any time.   He came out, guns blazing and went straight for the kill.

 

“What the FUCK, man?   What the fuck?   Where the fucking hell have you been?   I messaged you a million times, for fuck’s sake…”

“Hey.   Kane.   Shit.   Listen, man…”

He stopped in front of me, slung off his backpack and crossed his arms.

“I’m fucking listening, dude.   Let’s hear it.”

 

And I hesitated.  

Me.   The bloody desperado of deceit, who always has a plausible story, a neat evasion, a fucking bullseye of a lie for every occasion.   And instead I had this crazy, messed-up temptation to tell the truth.   Just say it – take a shot, spill my guts, bite the bullet.  

Things were all getting too fucking complicated, man.   Might have a supernatural serial killer after me – she’s this ex-‘something’ of mine who I killed, by the way.   Stood you up because Py said so – again.   Had this kid realise, er,  what I was, too – I probably should tell you about that, I guess.   There never was an Eddie, by the way – having a guardian was just a ruse because it’s hard explaining how old I am compared to how old I look.   That’s a whole other story, you see.   I’ve been totally lying to you about pretty much everything for fucking months.

Oh – had a thing for your girlfriend too, bro – did I mention that?…

  

It was a crowded train station, coming into peak hour.   It must have been noisy.   But I can’t remember anything breaking that silence.

 

He was still waiting.

“Yeah.   Of course.   No explanation.   Didn’t fucking think so, man.   There never is.   You’re a class-A fuckwit, Jon – dunno why the hell I ever thought we were buddies.   You can go fuck yourself – I don’t give a shit where you’ve been or why you blew me off like this.   Fuck – you aren’t even worth getting angry over anymore.   It’s all just been bullshit with you, for fucking eternity.   Fuck you, ‘bro’.”

It was a clean shot, point-blank range.   I never stood a chance.

 

Kane holstered his hostility, shouldered his backpack, and walked off down the platform and into the sunset.  

And after surveying the damage, and once the smoke cleared – and when he was abel – the dead man also walked away.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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8 Comments

  1. shouldn’t fraternize with the food, man. just shouldn’t, never turns out well.

  2. I love the use of cowboy style gun-slinging in this entry.

  3. He made it too easy on you…by just walking away like he did. If he’d have stood there and made you give him a reason you’r so fucked up, it would have been why harder…at least for you.

  4. I find it intriguing that you were tempted to tell the truth and out yourself for a moment, there. Have you ever felt that before?

    • I’m blogging, aren’t I…?

      • Well, naturally. I should have phrased that better. Outing yourself online where you’re pretty much anonymous is not the same as outing yourself to someone you’d call a friend though, is it?


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