Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Don't shoot me. Please.

I said out loud, “Oh, no. oh no. no..." Very quietly, quietly, “ah, no... no...” Thinking about Miss T, at home. What will she do now? How will she know I’m not coming home? What’s next for her now? What? What will happen?

“No... ai no...” Was I whimpering? I hope not. Or just talking to myself? I’m ashamed, already, thinking “I hope I’m not looking too weak”. Is this pathetic or just practical? I’m talking out loud to myself, muttering, I guess, now. OK. That’s ok. Even very intelligent people talk to themselves. I am intelligent. Or I was intelligent. Until I was killed with a gun today... no, no, not that... I’m here. Ok, nothing bad’s happened. Still alive, still ok. It’s fine, fine, fine. Keep cool, you... you. We’re walking along now. Walking.

Turning to go with him down this bad bad nasty dreadful hallway. Thinking, “This was not the way I had planned to die. At least not today. “Hmmm. Ok. Stay calm. It’s a gun. A gun. That IS a gun. It’s at your left ear, behind your head.... don’t look, don’t look now... don’t turn. no. look at the floor. don’t look at them.... don’t look. walk.... walk... walk now. walk forward. keep going.... doesn’t matter that you don’t want to go. You do, you go... walk now....

So. “Come this way."

Walked down the hall, around a corner. Another guy, another gun, joined us. The man in the suit was gently brushing my sleeves... “this, this... these....” I am trying to understand. The other one is saying, “quiet, quiet, don’t be stupid”.

What am I supposed to do? what? We’re walking slowly, he’s brushing my hand. What is it about my hand that’s so fascinating? Ah! I’m holding my CAR KEYS in my hand. This must mean I am supposed to give him my car keys. Ahhhh! But I don’t want to. I don’t want to give them to him. I need my keys. I need them. Brush brush brush. “These, these.....“

Ah... I get it a little more. I look at the other guy, the small guy with the other gun. He’s really nervous, anxious. Cilla is with me, ahead of me in the hallway. She’s angry already. She says to the smaller guy, “Don’t! Just stop!I’ll give you everything, just let me alone and stop touching me.”

I can’t understand what she’s saying. What is she doing? Why is she arguing? Why? What is wrong with her? I just don’t want to think about the guns, I want to figure out what these guys want me to do. What? What? Me, I’m just keeping my head down, walking, trying not to look at the guys... don’t look, don’t LOOK! I don’t want to see their faces... maybe they’ll shoot me if I look at them in the eyes... Why is she being so difficult? I don’t listen to her, I tune her out, she’s making me crazy, already, I hate her at this moment... for maybe making us both dead because she’s being impossible. Shut UP Cilla, shut the effin’ hell up. God, some people. You’re about to be shot, and you’re pissed off at bitchy colleagues. Happens all the time.

“Quiet, quiet. come, come”. Do they only know two words at a time? Maybe, and I guess that’s all I could process right now, two words at a time. Sh--, my mind is closing down.... Too bad. I used to be pretty smart. Ach, well. It’s been fun. Sort of.

Ah yeah. So I’m walking. Down this hallway. What am I supposed to do now? Yes, yeah. I should drop my car keys. Drop them? Ohhhh. that’s it.... Right. I am finally again getting that they want the keys. The car. Yes, that makes sense. They want to have my car. Ah..... yes. Ah well, easy come, easy go I guess. Sort of.

Ach shite man, I suppose they want my handbag too. mmmm. I must drop it. Yes, drop it on the floor now. There. Did that. I’ve dropped everything. Oh, right, this is a robbery.... easier to GIVE them what they want, then you’re done. Drop it, just let it drop from your hand.... ah. So light now... nothing on me..... nothing... I can just walk on...

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