Fears and Jeers (Part II)…A short story…unedited…

There are days when I wonder why don’t I end this life of mine. Before someone decides to intervene and call for assistance, I am fine. Sometimes, if I look close enough, I can see the scars of the past in their most primitive glory. Survival isn’t pretty. 

In the quiet of my mind I can hear the abyss calling out to me. ‘Do it. Simplify your life. End it and be at peace.’ The problem is that I believe in Heaven and Hell. Choices we make determine where we will end up. Eternal torment loses to streets of gold and peace forevermore.

It would be so easy to end it. One press of the trigger, or one plunge of the blade and it’s over. However, the downside is my children, family and friends I’d leave behind.

Besides, today is the last day of my life. There is no need to end it, when the Grim Reaper will harvest my pathetic mortal coil sometime in the next 24 hours. One might tend to think they might spend their last day righting wrongs, or enjoying a day of frivolous living. 

I am sitting at home wondering what I’ve done to see the gruesomeness of my death. My life has been nothing special. My career as a high school janitor hasn’t made me rich or even been remotely fulfilling. It keeps the creditors off my back, but that is about it.

My vehicle isn’t new, my house is in need of repair, and my search for true love has been a certifiable disaster. Still, why do I get to see my death? Is the Grim Reaper giving me an opportunity to avoid it?

From what I saw in my dreams, my end will be as mediocre as my life. I won’t be a hero to some small child. I won’t make a difference in a hostage situation. Instead, I will be buffing the locker room floor and die of a heart attack. No one will find me for days, and the rats will gnaw on my warm body.

Of all the things I dislike, rats and flies are at the top of the list. You can add spiders, snakes, and condescending people to that list as well. It’s a gruesome end. Maybe I shouldn’t go to work today. My house is rat free. I can have a heart attack at home and then avoid the gnawing. Plus, I would not end up with rabies. 

It sounds like a win-win situation to me. Still, I look at my watch. I have time to grab a quick shower and get ready for work. If I leave in the next fifteen minutes, I will have time to stop by Taco Bell and grab a 12-pack of soft tacos for my shift.

Man, I am living it up on my final day of life. 

Part of me wants to go to work to see if I die. “I might as well die at work. I’ve always been the dependable one. I go to work regardless of illness or health. I wonder how long I will be gone before they replace me,” I think aloud. A mediocre life and ending, who could ask for more?

All these years at work and I have nothing to show for it. I haven’t made a single ripple in the ocean of life. My biggest regret is that when I had the opportunity to take a risk, I always made the choice to play it safe. With my impending appointment with the Grim Reaper looming on the horizon, I pause. 

I should have taken a chance on life and love. There, I said it. However, in my genetic makeup, I am not a risk taker. No wonder my life is a waste. Anything worth having has never been worth the additional work. These thoughts roll over in my head as I drive to Taco Bell in my nondescript vehicle. My clothes are not name brand, my shoes are second hand. 

Jeez man, I am the walking embodiment of Joe Average. I’m going to die alone and be rat food. 

The school parking lot is empty on this brisk Saturday morning. I get out of my vehicle and climb into my coveralls. I grab my keys and 12-pack of soft tacos and head to the storage shed. 

A note hangs from the door, held on by a bright yellow tack. It’s message is in black ink and reads: Dear valuable team members, please do not forget to wax and buff the locker room floors this evening. Your contribution to our success is vital. Thanks for all you do!”

Some high school prankster has written ‘you suck’ in the corner of the note in purple crayon. A cold shiver eases down my spine, as if Death has put his hand upon my shoulder.

I should have taken more chances in life, and I really should have taken a sick day today.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.