king_of_skulls

I stand ready, mask high on my forehead and ready for use when the moment comes. My freshly cleaned and fully loaded gun gleaming in hand. My thoughts are running thru my head like a randomly joined together bullet train fueled by rage and hopelessness over the situation. The motor running in the background is cut off with a nonchalant flip of a switch. I am going to need the tank full to finish the job. Everything has been laid out with great effort, planned and planned again, but nearing the moment of truth, doubts and anxiety over the task at hand are slowly creeping back, and I cant have that. This needs to be done, I cant stand the thought of not going thru with this, its eating me alive. I pull up the rage again, feeding off it, gathering inspiration from it. I find myself disappointed that I have to use this rage for this. That it took it getting to this point before I did something about it. But it is what it is, and I am going thru with it, now is the time, I have to put the suffering to an end. I know that if I dont do this now, I will put it off until its way too late, and I will get no pleasure from it. My thoughts turn to skulls and tombstones, dragons and faeries, spiders and webs, heaven and hell. I start thinking about the most efficient way to empty the gun, the best way to keep the mess to a minimum. I know to start low and end it at the top. Yeah, I will get the most out of doing it that way. I eyeball the target, smiling, anticipating each squeeze of the trigger and the result of each squeeze. God it finally feels good to finally release this ugliness inside me. Fuck what the world thinks; I am doing this for me and my little girl.
I pull the mask over my face and make sure that its snug and lines up just right. I raise the gun, line it up with the target, take a deep, calming breath and slowly squeeze the trigger. Blood red spray hits metal, glistening in the overhead fluorescent lighting. I move the paint gun back and forth across the motorcycle tank, putting the base coat on evenly and smoothly, making sure that I cover every inch. The motor kicks on again, refilling the air tank. Yeah, I couldnt stand looking at that fucking ugly paint job for another second; Sierra is going to love the bikes new paintjob. The guys are going to get a kick out of it too. It feels good to be inspired, but the next time I get hit by a little old lady in an impala, Im going to get Maaco to do it. I am still pissed off about that.

What were you expecting? A hit???

Much love you guys, hope you are having a great day.