Lee stumbles down the street in a daze, arms pleading outward, revolver dangling from a limp finger. The blood on his shirt matches the blood on his face, the mess in his hair. Words form and escape from his passive lips with no one outside yet to hear them.
A neighbor catches sight from within his home. He sees the gun, sees the blood, and calls the police.
The officers arrive and gently remove the gun. They lead Lee to the back of the car. With humans in range, Lee’s words are heard, softly, slowly, with dignified purpose and careful confusion:
“I have killed god.”
Lee makes the headlines while he sits in a cell. The lawyer appointed has given up hope. Lee says, “I did good” and says nothing else.
The people outside, the people in the country, put Lee’s words onto t-shirts, emblazoned on lighters, collectable handguns with laser engraving. Lee gets mail from his newfound admirers.
The people out there, the people on TV, feign shock and point fingers in the other direction. The people read Lee’s notes:
“They said I could, so I thought I would.”
The outrage on TV is Lee’s best defense.
Lee doesn’t get it. Lee is bought for interviews. Lee opens his mouth, looks up, says, “I did right.”
The kids don’t get it. They wear Lee on their t-shirts. The hungry and scared quote Lee to feel strong.
Lee tried to feel strong, and Lee felt accepted. Lee saw the faces and Lee heard the words.
Lee was condoned and Lee pulled the trigger.
His head exploded, and Lee became real.
Lee gets the news that it’s time for a transfer. Lee is in handcuffs, head down, and led away. Guards open the van and Lee steps out between them. They make their way through the crowd to the door.
Jack steps forward, holds his gun to Lee’s belly. Jack pulls the trigger and speaks in Lee’s ear:
“I have killed god.”
Lee dies in acceptance and Jack goes to prison. Jack is a monster with delusions of grandeur. Lee is a martyr, a sign of the times.
"Acceptance"
Copyright: © 2011 Josh Myers
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Josh Myers writes things like a good fishy and he eats and sleeps mostly. He's too fat and is going to die probably.
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