suicide

Suicide
By
Eric Z. Fox



I thought I had lived. Why would I have thought any different? I mean, I continue to breathe, to work, and to hurt but deep down I knew. I mean I must of known that's why happiness has eluded me so greatly usually from my own sabotage though.
For seven years this life was oddly unsurprising to me. Things continued, yes, but for some reason it felt as if the universe was completely against me. Be it women or work or even finances I could not win. But I should've known all this stock I placed in my self, and still nothing.
The several jobs I had gone through were shit. Not only did they not teach me anything they might have made me even more stupid, because when realization came, of all things I was working. It wasn’t a fast food job or anything like that. It was almost as bad though.
I was a salesman. From library to library I went selling fucking magazines, cookbooks, and Time-Life libraries. For three months I went all around Wyoming and moved on to South Dakota. Cruising down Highway 18 I decided to stop in this cockroach hotel called Lonnie's. The old redneck that night audited and more than likely owned this shit hole smelled like he hadn’t bathed in three years but he had also been puking regularly down his own pants.
I gave him the $25 and I saw his toothless grin widen allowing me to smell that evil rank garlic that hung in there. He handed me the keys to room 9 and I was gone so fast that if I was a cartoon my heels would have been burning.
The peach colored room was very basic. The full-sized bed, draped in peach was next to a small nightstand. On the nightstand there was a phone and a lamp that looked almost as old as Lonnie. There was probably only two lines for the whole business, I thought. The Roundtable near the bathroom had only one chair that faced the TV that was mounted on the wall.
Checking the TV and seeing only basic I turned it off and went to the bathroom. Showering as efficiently as ever I put on a clean pair of boxers and a wife beater. Then I laid on the bed to smoke a Salem cigarette. I looked at the pale colored nightstand when I had an uncontrollable urge to open the drawer.
Since I wasn't the type of person to control my urges or obsessions I opened it. Inside like in all motels was the Holy Bible. Unthinkingly I opened up the fake leather covers and began to read. After a few pages it hit me as surely as a mugger in a bad mood.
The words were the same as always except for the fact that they had no meaning. Every the and thou or begot was there, but the word of God was gone. I must have closed the book but my mind was gone, searching for what had once happened.



II

It was seven years ago. For the entire year I had lived in more happiness than anything should. The love of my life, my soul mate, had begun to see some other man but that I didn't know. All I knew was that she was my all. Then one day an old friend called me and told me he had heard she was seeing this guy on the side. In shock I called and asked her. With more than a little scorn she said yea and that she was glad I knew and that she did not want anything to do with me.
Unthinkingly and moving slowly, I found the little white pills somewhere. That I couldn't recall. What I did recall though was how I took five pills every 15 minutes until all 60 were gone. Instantly I must have died, drowning in my own vomit. But what I saw was my sister stuffing me into her VW bug and taking me to the emergency room where my stomach was pumped.






III

From this my mind drifted back slowly. The first thing I noticed was the hellish version of the bible. It’s Godlessly worded pages laid face down on the dingy peach carpet. Then I saw the horrendously large drops of rain that assaulted the eastern facing window. It was there, looking at that water, when I decided that even though I was in hell it was OK. Since I could go back and remember that year and her. So at least I had something.


The end


By Eric Z Fox