?

Log in

No account? Create an account
abhorson packs a hypo - blue dog blog™
links

my professional page :: my linkedin page :: my facebook page

ipblogs :: jape :: patently-o :: phosita
photoblogs :: chromasia :: topleftpixel
comics and fun :: pennyarcade :: sinfest :: onion :: drunkmen
LJ :: read :: write
March 2012
 
 
 
 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
littlebluedog
littlebluedog
Tim
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 09:44 am
abhorson packs a hypo

The man in the brown suit with the squirt gun, I learned, was my executioner.

He sat in an orange plastic and bent-wire chair at a long folding table, which was set up in what seemed to be a department store, although it wasn't really clear. For some reason I was reminded of an 80s-era community college campus.

The squirt gun was essentially a hypodermic needle set into a small, mechanical turret made of springs and gears that was mounted to the table. It was aimed at an empty chair across the table.

I was standing several feet away, also in a suit, as was the man with me, who may have been my father, or one of my bosses at work, an older friend; I'm not sure. He was my ally and someone whose authority I trusted, although he and I both knew that I would soon be put to death, and this was an inevitability.

This wasn't expected. I hadn't been in prison or accused of any crime that I knew of. I was not brought to this place; I had simply shown up. My dream-self knew, however, that somehow this had been planned in advance; that they had been waiting for me. I knew this with certainty.

The man in the brown suit was accompanied by three or four other men (in suits), who formed a loose perimeter around us and the table. My friend was talking to one of them, who was helping him to get word to my wife and children that my death was imminent.

My dream-self knew all of the details of this style of execution: I would sit in the chair, the man in the brown suit across the table would adjust dials and settings to carefully aim the tip of the needle at my right eye, lock the gun's position, and press the trigger, releasing a stream of liquid. When the liquid hit my pupil, the poison would enter my bloodstream, and shortly afterward, I would die from cardiac arrest.

I knew that it was impossible to appeal whatever decision had been made, and futile to even try. I also knew that it would be useless to attempt to escape; if I ran, one of the brown-suited man's accomplices would shoot me in the leg and carry me back to the table.

An enormous and sudden sadness overtook me. I had a family; I had things to accomplish yet. I had dreams and plans and a future still. I sat down heavily in the chair, not because I was ready, but because I was overcome with grief. The man in the brown suit waited, silent and implacable. Ironically, although I knew it would be useless to get angry at my predicament, I allowed the misery to completely overtake me.

My friend offered me a phone. My wife wanted to talk to me.

I woke up.

Tags:

15CommentReplyShare

ohhjuliet
ohhjuliet
Lauren
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 06:27 pm (UTC)

You should write a story using this... it's somewhat Stephen King-esque in my mind... except you do get away... *shiver*


ReplyThread
cheekyassmonkey
cheekyassmonkey
tori
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 06:33 pm (UTC)

yes!


ReplyThread Parent
littlebluedog
littlebluedog
Tim
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 08:15 pm (UTC)

I continued it downthread, if you're curious. :)


ReplyThread Parent
littlebluedog
littlebluedog
Tim
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 06:39 pm (UTC)

Hopefully I get away. :)


ReplyThread Parent
ohhjuliet
ohhjuliet
Lauren
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 06:41 pm (UTC)

Dun dun dun. Get writing...I want to know what happens.


ReplyThread Parent
littlebluedog
littlebluedog
Tim
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:37 pm (UTC)

Let me give it a try:

I took the phone from my friend and heard my wife's voice, calm and assured. Something in her tone worked to offer immediate comfort, and reminded me of something we had discussed long ago. A plan formed, with a gradual realization.

I felt myself beginning to shake with excitement, and the rush of the sudden emotion on the ebb of the wave of sadness made a visible reaction hard to suppress, but I continued feigning surrender and tried to keep my voice trembling with pretended sorrow as I uttered a code phrase to my wife.

There was a slight pause, and then I heard a quiet chuckle, and the code response. We hung up, and I started counting to 100 in my head.

I stood up to hand the phone to my friend, putting my hand on his shoulder and leaning in close to whisper some quick instructions in his ear. I tightened my grip as I felt him react in surprise, pulled back to look at his expression, and knew I could count on him.

25, 26, 27.

I turned back to the man in the brown suit. "Let's get on with it."

He gestured to the chair and I sat down.

"Please try to remain still. This won't take but a moment."

35, 36, 37.

"Sorry," I said, "I need to tie my shoe."

The man in the brown suit let escape an aggrieved sigh, but said nothing. I leaned down and untied both shoes.

62, 63, 64.

I sat back up and noticed the glass of water on the table, and picked it up to take a drink. My hands were steady, but I intentionally worked in a tremble, for effect. I put the glass down.

80, 81, 82.

"I am ready." He nodded, and made the adjustments.

89. 90. 91.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see my friend, hands by his sides, ready.


ReplyThread Parent
littlebluedog
littlebluedog
Tim
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:37 pm (UTC)

Click, went the gun. The man crinkled his mouth slightly, in what I understood to be a smile.

93.

94.

95.

He moved his hand to the trigger and pulled it. 96.

I heard the rush of something moving through the air at high speed (97), as I watched the stream of liquid jet toward me (98).

I raised my right hand and caught the sword (99), swung it in front of my face and caught the stream on the flat of my blade.

When I counted 100, the man's neck blossomed in a sudden gush of scarlet as a throwing star perforated his windpipe. The black blur to my right was my wife, who apparently still had deadly aim. I immediately spun in my chair, kicking my right shoe at the accomplice about 5 paces behind me, catching him in the forehead as he drew his gun.

I stood up and kicked my other shoe off, making sure my friend had ducked under the table. My wife readily dispatched accomplice no. 2 by relieving his body of his head. No. 1 was on the ground clutching his forehead, and No. 3 and 4 were taking cover, and taking aim. I needed to move.

No. 1 was down, so I launched myself in his direction with my sword drawn, and a second later there were only two to contend with. I glanced around to locate my wife, and allowed myself the luxury of admiring how hot she looks in her ninja outfit.

A gunshot and a whizzing, burning noise too close to my ear snapped my attention to No. 2, or No. 3, whatever. In my quick scan, I failed to locate the other accomplice, but first things first. He had positioned some obstacles between himself and my wife, so she couldn't use her stars. I winked at her to let her know I had him, and she sprang away in search of the remaining one. She tipped over a chair to draw my quarry's attention for a brief second, which was all I needed. I shrugged out of my jacket and threw it forward as I dated to the right, snapping his attention back, but still in the wrong direction. He fired at my jacket as I moved with lightning speed to his side. When he realized my feint, I'd already impaled him on my steel with my hand over his mouth.

I heard another gunshot and a cry: a female voice. My wife's voice.

I let No. 2's body slide from my sword as I straightened up to see No. 3 holding a gun to my injured wife's temple. She was standing on one leg, trying to stop the bleeding in the other, but it looked like the bastard hit an artery.

"Not one step closer," he grunted, and I realized that not all of the blood was hers; she'd managed to slice him a bit already, although I couldn't tell where or how badly.

I dropped my sword and raised my hands. I wasn't sure how I would play this. If I let him go, they would come back.

"Just stay calm," I cooed, bending my legs a bit for a jump.

He saw what I was doing. "Don't," he said, and squeezed the trigger a bit.

Shit. Looked like that wouldn't work. He started backing toward an exit, limping a bit, dragging my wife, who looked like she would lose consciousness pretty quick. I had to go for it and slowly crouched again.

I sprang, and he roared at me. His face became a blur as I leapt toward him, focused on his trigger finger, which squeezed ...

Then he gurgled ...

And dropped the gun, reaching over his shoulder, falling forward.

I could see the hypo protruding from his upper back.

I caught my hot ninja wife and helped her collapse into the chair, and saw my friend's trimphant grin. He held up his hand for a high-five. He always embarrasses me when he does this, I mean who high-fives these days anymore? But there was no one else around, so I slapped him some skin back.

Super Seekrit Ninja Team saves the day.


ReplyThread Parent
ohhjuliet
ohhjuliet
Lauren
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:40 pm (UTC)

Haaaaaaaaaa hahahaha I love the end.


ReplyThread Parent

(Anonymous)
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:41 pm (UTC)

Dork.


ReplyThread Parent
cheekyassmonkey
cheekyassmonkey
tori
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 08:30 pm (UTC)

of course, you would have the hot ninja wife.


ReplyThread Parent
inkytwist
inkytwist
The Loch Ness Monster
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 06:29 pm (UTC)

That's terrifying and kind of beautiful at the same time.

Man. Why are my dreams never cool like this?


ReplyThread
meisterdorf
still plays with trains
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:06 pm (UTC)

whats weird is that I often awake and know that I have been dreaming, but for some reason I find it hard if not often impossible to recollect the details of what I was dreaming. I do know that in my dreams I am scared to death of heights, which is not true in reality. I wonder if it possible to somehow train your thought process to remember dream details.


ReplyThread
littlebluedog
littlebluedog
Tim
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:46 pm (UTC)

You know, it's been really rare that I remember my dreams, but several folks have suggested writing them down whenever I do remember, because I guess that helps to remember more often.


ReplyThread Parent
meisterdorf
still plays with trains
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:49 pm (UTC)

maybe this will help, no?

http://www.lucidfun.com/?hop=legaltech


ReplyThread Parent
littlebluedog
littlebluedog
Tim
Thursday, February 7th, 2008 07:53 pm (UTC)

Right on! I signed you up. ;)


ReplyThread Parent