'Mr. Blandford, we haven't received confirmation on whether or not you will be attending your mother's funeral, and since you are her only living son, we would like you to pick out the color of the dress, at least-'
'Finn, I'm really sorry about this whole breakup thi-Nnngh, stop that, it... o-oh.. oh God... please...nnngh... I'm trying to talk to my ex... Oh, not THERE- and I'd like to meet you for L-Unnngh... Mmmm...-ch this T-oooooh...-sday sogivemeacallback.'
Finn wasn't quite sure how he felt about this whole mime killing business after he got a drink the next night. Gathered, it was a diet Sunkist, but revelations happen at the oddest of moments. And for Finn, this was one of those strange moments of revelation. Although his earlier one seemed all well and good after he decided to satiate his thirst for yet another deserved death
any death that involves mimes is deserved, but now that he had already skipped work after he went off on this mime in the subway on his way to the E train leading to 38th street, he wasn't sure how long he could put up the charade. However, after that morning, he wasn't quite sure if her ever would be caught.
It started like yesterday morning. Just as dreary, bland, and dismal with a phone call from the funeral home. He had listened to the message while he was shaving, and had almost nicked himself with his razor when the phone rang. When he listened to find out they had ruined his precise shaving pattern to pick out the color lining to put in his mother's casket, his annoyance rose to the point that he almost stopped shaving altogether. But what was Finn if not clean shaven? Well, the Finn from yesterday, but that's not the point. He found out when he awoke that morning that he couldn't pull off the rugged look that he was going to try for. His hair was still messy and long, but when he went for shaving for more than a day it went into homeless territory, and he couldn't have that. So he resumed his rhythmic razor swipes while they listed
green blue navy black red maroon burgundy plum purple the colors they could use. He finished before the list of colors ran out. Actually, he was undressing to get in the shower and had started the water, but they still hadn't stopped.
His morning shower that usually consisted of a robotic trance was now filled with with thinking of what color would match his mother's skin complexion. Definitely not yellow or orange. Why would someone even put such a color in a casket? Red, either. By the time he was dried, dressed, and had blown his hair dry, he had decided on forest green. She hadn't in particularly liked that color, or anything. It'd just look aesthetically pleasing, and his mother always was very particular about matching colors and such. Finn gave himself the time to brood/mourn over his life while he drank coffee
with milk and sugar... you pansy and read the news. Mostly the scientic discoveries, because he hated sports and he really didn't care what was going on in the world. No one cared. It wasn't even a topic of discussion near the coffee pot during lunch. Putting on his long black coat that kept him warm down to his knees, he straightened his tie and ran a hand through his hair as he walked through the door. For some reason he stuck a knife in his pocket.
He walked down the crowded street where people on phones clammored by in business suits, knocking shoulders with him. Snow crunched under his feet and it was gray and filthy and melting so fast. He hadn't even known it had snowed. Finn looked up the tall slate sides of the buildings, the sky a forboding gray, a thin strip between rooftops and windows and glass. He trudged quicker, and fair haired woman yelling some foreign language at him when she ran into him. Her porcelain cheeks flushed with irritation, then she readjusted the phone to her ruby red lips.He threw a dirty look at her, and she scowled back imperiously as she went back to her heated phone debate. He was shoved towards the stairwell leading into the dark, cold underground.
Knocking shoulders. It was then that he saw it. Performing in the corner and assaulting some poor pedestrian with it's foolishness. He fingered the knife in his deep jacket pocket. Now he knew what he wanted to do with it. He wanted to plunge it deeply into its stomach, and rip it out from the inside. See all that red stark against the monochrome uniform, spreading all over his hands, painting all the white that color, that wonderful color, and darkening the black. Rip it's face to shreds, and just laugh.
And Laugh and Laugh and Laugh And Laugh and Never Stop. And that's what he would do. Right here, in front of everyone. And so he did.
The mime never even heard him approach
it's a slient movie, black and white and no speech and you could almost hear the overdramatic movie music that makes everyone
from the 40's jump in their seats in horrified fascination
turn around turn around. Finn did just as he desired and massacred him, burried the knife in every spot of flesh that gave beneath it's edge, the mime silently screaming.
And Screaming and Screaming and Screaming and Screaming and STOPPING. His hair got messed up a little more than it should have been so he ran one of his gore covered hands through it. An elderly gentleman glanced over and sighed deeply in his chest as if to say
what is our world comming to? and Finn trudged dejectedly away, leaving the black and red corpse for clean up. He got a sandwich, called his girlfriend and told her
to please go ******** herself that maybe it was time to call it quits. And he went back home.
So as he drank his soda of choice he wondered if this was the right thing to do. Maybe he should kill someone worthwhile, like his
skanky slutty bitchy girlfriend or the
******** whore-faced bastardlyfuneral home director that left at least 14 different messages on his machine. He was thinking of changing his number. It'd stop all this oppression.
'Mr. Blandford. This is Mr. Jacobs, your mother's... lawyer. Yes, that's it. I wanted you to know that there wasn't going to be a reading of her will since it all goes to you. I'm sure you won't want it, seeing as there wasn't much. However, it is your's for the taking, should you desire it. My condolences.'
'Fine then, I see how it is. You don't want to talk to me. Have a new girlfriend? Or is it an old one from when we were still together? I know that you said that you didn't get together with anyone but even a
c**t LIKE YOURSELF would've had someone on the side. I wouldn't be mad- I had about 29.'
The next day went the same- he got ready for work. Finn had moped around the house, smoked a lot, and got dressed. It was really the same everyday. Today they had told him to bring his signed baseball bat to work. Of course, as he was passing by the third Starbucks on 765th Street, there was another mime. While he was fantasizing, salivating with anticipation of the sound of cracking bones and ripping flesh that is only heard when the violated party is silent, he briefly wondered where these mimes were comming from. Street performers had always lingered on the streets, gypsies with bewitching powers and a hypnotizing set of... eyes. The dj's that probably didn't sell anything but grounded out fine tunes on 7 different electronic instruments at once. However, he hadn't noticed all the mimes. As he pulled the fine wood bat out of the hollowed soupy skull of the defeated minion of striped silence, and wiped off the matted fabric and solidified gore along with frozen blood off on the stone wall of the Starbucks, he came to the logical conclusion that he was always so wrapped up in himself or staring at the ground so that he never noticed them. He bumped into the fair haired woman again
common occurrence?, who growled ferociously, almost ferally, at him, pale eyes glittering dangerously as he sneered back. She went back to the civilly calm phone conversation she was submerged in previously. He decided to make a detour up to the funeral home his mother was to have her wake in, and be buried in the back yard of.
The funeral home was not large. It was a smallish grey bricked house with a black roof and holographic ivy creeping up the sides- ivy didn't grow through the concrete anymore. He shook himself off in the foyer
it must have snowed again and proceeded to make his way into the front office.
The discussion was brief and of not much merit. The funeral home director told him that it would be cheaper to just incinerate her after they held the wake. Finn said that his mother would have wanted to be in the ground, and so the director told him he could do that. They came to an agreement on a price, and he left. The funeral was to be held two days after the wake- a date and time that had been preset. 4:00 Tuesday November 23.
It was so cold for November. It was frigid, and the snow was comming down again, and Finn could feel it this time, and for some reason it made him feel upset- he was getting used to the feeling of not feeling. It wasn't much snow as it was rain anymore, and the street was a sea of black umbrellas, rising and falling with the current. He made his way to a coffee shop that wasn't Starbucks- he didn't know if he could handle a Starbucks at the moment- and made his way into the comforting heat and warm smells of the coffee shop. There was no one there, and why would there be? No one visited old fashioned coffee shops anymore- what was the use of it when you could get a coffee and biscotti to go in .23 seconds? He rested his head in his elbows, and waited for his mocha
not coffee exactly. He wanted to be exciting today.
This was the the first time in his life he was actually living. The most active three days of his life. In three days he found out that his mother had died, broke up with his girlfriend, killed three
soul-less creatures mimes, and skipped work three times in a row. His mother would have proud. She had always been in favor of him leading an exciting life. She had hoped that in the city there would be vivacity. Instead all he found were
tombs offices and
zombies more people just like him. He was sick of it. The continual sea of monochrome. He wanted
green blue navy black red maroon burgundy plum purple color. The mocha came with a side of strawberries.
On his walk home he knocked into the fair haired foreign lady again, but she was going the same direction as he was. He found it peculiar- He had knocked into her almost every morning for two years. She wasn't chatting into her phone. She was just drifting along in the sea of ties and black coats and umbrellas, as he kept walking to his apartment, still in his suit. He climbed up the stairs stiffly to his room, trucking sludge up the stairs with him, slinking past Mr. Dredgewild's door from which he always heard water running. He could never guess as to why. His cold, shaking hands fiddled with the keys as he opened the door to his apartment. The answering machine blinked savagely. There might have been a hundred new messages. He didn't really care.
He hung his jacket on the hook near his door, and flung himself on the couch, still in his suit. He hadn't really done anything that day. Finn's shirt was still fresh and white, as if he had never left the house. He stared out the window. It looked like it was going to be snow. It was then that he heard footsteps on the marble in the kitchen. He looked up, but didn't see anything. It could have been a ghost, a robber, anything. He wasn't really feeling sane enough to check. He might actually see something. Then the figure stepped around the arm of the leather sofa, a semi automatic in hand. His eyes widened with shock as the intruder shrieked at him in a thick accent:
'You bump into me everyday, you worthless scum. Go to Hell!'
And just like the the fair haired woman pulled the trigger with her perfectly manicured finger
red nail polish? and shot him through the forehead. He never moved an inch to stop it. Frozen in time, clothes without creases with a pen still in his pocket, sprawled out over the couch to remain there for eternity, or until someone from the city cleared him out. She stormed out of his apartment haughtily, heels clicking, getting back on her cellphone and cursing in her native language about how this set her back 6 minutes and 12 seconds.
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