Choices

“I’m not a bad guy. I have a job, a house, and a dog. My dreams and aspirations aren’t all that different than any other man. Sometimes my dreams are a little larger and more visual than most. I sometimes see myself part of the JFK assassination, the crosshairs of my rifle on the man’s forehead, completely oblivious to anything but his beautiful wife and the trained sheep cheering and following their shepherd. I see myself as an insect, piddling away my insignificant life in a 24 hour search for food. I even see myself as women’s underwear. I play out each role individually and sometimes simultaneously. And that brings us to where we are now.”

A gust of wind blew from the north, kicking up a small tornado of dust.

“Take a look down there. People herding through their pathetic excuse they call life; each with their own agenda; each with their own ghosts in their closet. Rushing in and out of people traffic, thinking if they’ll be late to their meeting, which is the best restaurant that serves the lowest trans-fat meals, and which bar is best to choose to find a nice screw. None of them understand the meaning of a good decision.”

“One good thing about this is I never get lonely. Plus, if I ever feel guilty or feel that my own life is insignificant, I can pick out a sheep and take theirs. It is a wonderful feeling. Take this man, for instance. His suede suit makes me want to puke, no doubt a selection made from his domestic partner, and just what exactly is in the briefcase he’s carrying? Important business information, a stack of porn magazines, or maybe even a few hundred thousand dollars robbed from the bank down the street? I guess we’ll never really know until we watch the evening news, eh lady? No. Not this man. I’ve seen him before. His daily routine is sickening and even more sickening that I can pick him out of the crowd everyday. Watch, ten more steps and he will pull out his phone, check messages, and most likely chat with the devil that suggested that suit. Or even his mistress. Now, look, he’ll walk into that café, order a coffee, and sit on the outside table, right there.”

He pointed three clicks to his north, below him.

“See? I can tell by you're face you’re not impressed with my knowledge of this stranger. Maybe you’ll be more interested in this other man that is now walking towards the bench in the park? Then again, maybe you don’t want to know. Sometimes that’s better. I’m not a very smart man, but there are things I’d just rather not know”, he snorted a chuckle, “Wait, here he comes now.”

A man walks casually towards a bench in the park. The bench is located under a large oak tree, wonderfully shaded to perfect comfort.

“I want you to take a look. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

A woman in her mid-thirties was sitting on the rooftop, listening to this psycho jabber about strangers and scared out of her mind. She struggled to keep her composure. The duct tape slapped across her mouth made it impossible to call for help. The ropes around her ankles were tightly tied so that running was out of the question. And, of course, the rope tied around her wrists made defending herself impossible. Even if she wasn’t bound and gagged, where would she go? The rooftop of a sixty three story building wasn’t built for fast escapes like this situation demanded. Besides, the rifle propped on a slack, homemade stand scared her stiff. She wouldn’t be able to run; wouldn’t be able to call for help. The only thought that was circling her head was her husband. Strong and handsome; he would know what to do in this situation. But, no, she was in this nightmare, not him.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! I told you to look, damn it, now look!” The casual comfort in his voice was now replaced by raw anger and resentment. She struggled to maneuver off of her backside to get to her knees. The rifle’s business end was resting on the ledge, pointing down towards the busy bustle of lunch-breakers. She staggered on her knees toward the rifle and began to peer through. Her only safe-haven in her mind was her husband. She drew her strength from the man she loves. All of those feelings, memories, and never-ending love came crashing down her gullet with one, short peep through the sight of the rifle. She let out a short scream, stifled by the duct tape, and feel back shaking her head violently in disbelief.

“What’s the matter, young lady? Don’t you recognize your own husband?” Short bursts of whimpers came and went as she sat in shock, not wanting to believe it, but the image of her husband still burning in her eyes. “Aw, but you do. What it is you don’t understand is who is that young piece of ass that is with him on the bench. Oh yes. What are they doing down there? What’s the matter? Did you not know? I thought women had a sixth sense for this stuff. Get up. Look.”

The man pulled a blade from his pocket as the lady started up towards the rifle. He flicked the blade out and cut the rope that bound her hands.

“Put your finger on the trigger, honey.” Of course, she was reluctant, not understanding the motives. “You see that girl he’s with? Look! That is my fiancé! The woman I am going to marry! Now what do you suppose you’re husband and my fiancé are doing together on a Tuesday afternoon? I have a pretty good guess and I’m not quite happy about it!”

She started to pull her head away, not wanting anymore to do with the nonsense unfolding, then the man reached around his back and pulled out a 9mm pistol from his waistband. He gently placed the nozzle on the back of her head, pushed her head towards the sight, and forced her to watch, getting uncomfortably close to her husband who she thought she knew.

“Now, we have ourselves a predicament. I can’t make this decision; that’s why I brought you. Life is full of choices and you have one to make right now. Either you pull your trigger or I pull mine; your call.”

The woman started shivering uncontrollably. Her finger was shaking so violently on the trigger that she wasn't even sure how to make this type of decision. Tears blurred her vision, a dark patch swelled the crotch of her pants, and the man spoke again.

“You have three seconds. Choose now.”

A shot rang out, scaring a flock of birds off the neighboring building.

***