9:45

A short story I wrote a loooong time ago about a man dying on the streets. Cheery stuff.

9:45 – Hi. My name is Richard Laurel. I am 34 years old, as of yesterday. I was born in some little community in western Canada, and soon I will be dead. On February 14^th, 2007 at 9:45 in the morning, I will die. No questions about it. No doubts are in my little mind, no wavering thoughts are hiding in the folds of my brain. I know, because it already happened.

Yeah, that’s right. I’m dead. Or, well, I will be in a matter of minutes. If that. I can already feel the blood pooling in my lungs. I can already feel my heart beat begin to slow down. I can feel my mind beginning to decay as the electrons short out and wither.

9:34 – Almost a quarter to Ten in the morning, and only now am I brushing my teeth. The grinding of the tooth brush as it devours the plaque off my teeth is oddly refreshing. When I was a kid I always heard people talk about, whether on television, radio or just my friends and colleagues, brushing their teeth before they eat breakfast. That always struck me as odd, because, I mean, if you brush before than everything that you eat for the next half hour tastes like tooth paste. I’m not saying breakfast has to be some ridiculously glorious affair of taste delight, but I’d much rather eat an orange that tasted of fruit than of fluoride. Secondly, If you brush before you eat, when you do start munching you’re just de-fouling your teeth once more. Why spend so much time making them all clean and proper just to shove something in to make them all dirty again.

10-05 – Five minutes after ten, and the ambulance breaks down. The fucking ambulance breaks down man, it’s fucking insane, fuck. I mena, what are thwe fucking chances opf soemtghing ;lieka that happening? God it fucking hurts, it hurts so godamned much, fuck fuck fuck fuckj I can efell the blood pouring out onto the am bulence attendant hands ass he tries to keep preasur eothe woudng to stop it from beleecing all of the vfucking oplamce or whatever it sus that they’re supopoded to do. I mean of hcuk fyuck fuyckm fuck fyck it hurts oh god. You’d think I’d have enetered shock or something by no, why won’t it fuking TSOP I can;’t fucking etanad it much longer, oh god I’;m hgonna die I don’t wanna die, fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK

6:45 – The alarm sounds. I roll over and ignore it.

9:44 – I stumble backwards as the knife is pulled gently out of the wound. The pain is momentary, quickly replaced by a sense of confusion. Odd, I think. Odd that the bastard would take so much care to not make a mess. I plunk down onto the ground, clutching at my stomach. The bastard runs off down the alley. I fall onto my belly, hearing the splash through the rushing of my ears. I think he took my wallet. I’m not sure. Did I offer it to him before he stabbed me? I can’t remember at all now. Kinda funny. It just happened less than a minute ago and I can’t recall in the slightest. I guess that’s adrenaline for you. It just shuts down your memory for some reason. And it only lasts while you’re high on action. I like that. High on Action. Sounds like the name of some crappy action flick with more explosions than plot points. Like that one that came out last year, about the guy who had that drug injected into him so that he would die if he didn’t keep his adrenaline levels going, or something. I never did see it. I never was much of an action film fan. I always liked detective shows, you know, the British ones that look like they were filmed eighty years ago, despite how recent they were? Or are. I’m not sure, I forgot how I started that sentence.

Aw hell. I forgot what I was talking about.

9:39 – The door clicked shut behind me. I turned the key a few times and locked it. The lock usually stuck, but not always. Quite often the key would simply slide in and out as if it were oiled. Today it was a bit of both. Not smooth and elegant, but not as arrogantly stubborn as it usually is.

I sighed. The Tylenol I took earlier is just now starting to kick in. I can feel my brain start to work again. Amazing how fast those little things can work sometimes. Other times, of course, they don’t do diddly squat.

I decided to take the stairs today. It was only five stories, so it wasn’t like I’d die from exhaustion or anything. I skipped down the stairs three at a time, nearly breaking my neck on the last turn. I opened the door into the lobby, took a few steps to the front door, opened it, and I was on my way.

10:07 – The ambulance starts up again, I casn felel the engine moving oh god I might actually live I mighbt djbwnot die fpg fuck fuclkne fuck me gfukcc m me I don’t wwnand die yet I’m only thridty fucking four for gods skjake I do4ejnt wanna die oh godw dplease please plase please I haven’t evene fisnhed my goddammed book thje puibsliehers gonna kill me they expect it in like tfour days I ognyl have the last chapter to finsihde proofreddning imm ont the lats draft for gdas sake I can’t not do it yet oh fuck fuck fuck fukckckkckckckck

9:41 – I stride out onto the street, humming a little ditty that’s been stuck in my head for the last few days. I don’t begrudge it much though, it’s a catchy little tune. I start to whistle as well, even though I can’t whistle to save my life. There isn’t anyone around though, so who cares. And even if there was? I already made enough of an ass of myself last night that a little whistling couldn’t hurt me much. Anyway, music is life. Try to take that away from someone, well, you just fucking killed them.

I stop at the alley between fourth and fifth. The office is just on the other side. I’m already probably going to be late, so I might as well cut a few seconds off my time. I take a quick look at my watch. 9:40. Yeah, fuck it. I turn to go down the alley, nodding amiably at the young man leaning against the wall.

9:30 – I pick the pulp from my orange out of my mouth with a fingernail. I hate the stuff, but I love oranges way to much to not eat them just because of it. There’s just something about their annoying levels of juiciness that just get me going. Aside from the taste, I mean. Not that they aren’t delicious, far from it. There’s just more to my love for them than that. I just simply love the way the juice squirts into my mouth when I take a bite out of a freshly peeled slice. Mmm. God! I love it.

I pinch the last remnants of orange out of my teeth and take a final chug from my glass of water. The coffee maker broke this morning, so I’m a little drowsier than I’m used to. Also I have a splitting headache, but I downed a couple of Tylenol, the gel kind, so hopefully I’ll start to feel better in a minute or two.

8:43 – The alarm continues to ring. I swear and sit up, rubbing the crusting tears from my eyes. I look over at the clock. Almost quarter too. Fuck. I have a meeting with those business fucks at ten. I roll onto the floor, hearing my elbows crack against the hard-wood flooring. I lay on the floor for a moment or two. I think I fell asleep again. I stand up, and look at the alarm. 9:25. Fuck! I finally stand and waddle over to the alarm, and turn it off. I stagger into the bathroom so I can have my morning pee session. One must keep ones friendship with the toilet, less it decides to leave you.

9:45 – I can hear someone yelling. Or screaming, or something. I can’t really tell. It’s kind of hard to concentrate right now. It’s kind of hard to keep my thoughts together. I think the shock is wearing off. I don’t know.

Oh crap, I just realized my open wound is pressed against the ground. I hope nothing gets in. That’d be awesome. Not only am I stabbed, but I also get infected. I try to roll onto my back, but the pain is to much, so I just lie there.

I hear footsteps. Running towards me. I raise my eyes, but everything’s too blurry to see properly. I think it’s a young woman. I can see the underside of her cleavage. She’s asking me something. I can’t hear her. I can’t hear what she’s saying. I raise my hand and wave it at her, friendly like. Not sure if that was the right thing to do or not. It’s so hard to tell what to do in social situations like this. Like, I remember that party I went to last night. I made a complete ass of myself in front of all those people. God, I can’t believe I did that. I should know better than to get drunk when somany people are around. I can’t fhold my liquor, that;s my problem./ Well, one of them at least. I can hear the screeching of tires and a siren. Is threre a fire or something? I hope my apartments okay. I just boguth those new dvd’s, it’d suck if I had to replace them already. They cost like ninwetyu bucks or sometrhing. Oh, and my manuscript. I knew I shoula made copues

I let my hand drop, but she, the girl, keeps it in he rpalm. I didn’t even notice she was holding my hand. Kinda funny, if you think about it.