Forbidden Love

good old Ultra Violence

As I finished my cigerate I turned back towards the bar. A good tall moloko was in order after the night I had. As I stumbled back into the bar Marco and Markus were already waiting, three bottles of the LoCo classic moloko waiting, clean and crispy on the counter. A word from the not so wise about Molokos, its like a cocktail, with a half a caffine pill, a bit of ground meth crystals, and a little crack for the twitch. As I sat down on the bar stool Marco was already half way through his, nosiely chugging it down, twitching in his seat as the chems hit him. Markus was sipping at his, stretching and cracking his knuckles as the chems slowly seaped into his blood stream. I began chugging mine as well, wanting to get nice and knicked. Growing up in the slums anytime we ran low on funds we found a good old chelloveck, a nice rich kid or adult, and stuck them deep enough to have them spilling our old friend Red on the ground and their wallets void of any wealth.

I could feel the pins and needles through my body as I finished off my moloko. My faithful dregs were ready to go as I stood up and headed for the door. They quickly followed suit. As we made our way to the streets and back alleys I pulled my 9mm from my belt and crouched down in the pitch black shadow cast along an alley wall. The cars buzzing by had no idea what waited in the darkness.

Laughter and giggles came from down the street as a group of drunk prep kids came stagger along. By the time they were twenty feet away the reek of cheap booze flooded my nose. At ten feet Marko, Marcus and myself stepped out of the shadows and leveled our nines at the crowd. At five feet the first girl noticed us and screamed. Marco was the first to fire, quickly followed by Markus. As they emptied their clips into the crowd I held my fingers over the delicate trigger. They knew how this  worked, they leveled the feild and I mopped up. Most of the trust fund babies fell dead to the ground, one however tried crawling away. As I walked among the bodies, the blood clinged to my boots, the desperate fool's pathetic sobs as he tried to drag himself away. "Look buddy, just die, save me the bullet" I whispered in his ear. After I stood up and watched him he rolled onto his back, staring me in the eyes. 

"Burn in hell you poor fucking peice of shit" he studdered, spitting blood on my boots. As I leveled my nine down towards him I smiled as I pulled the trigger, sending the hollow point into his skull. I could feel my smile turn to a snarl as I couldn't stop pulling the trigger. As I emptyed my clip into his body I could feel my rage building. This arrogant rich kid thought he was better than me even has I held his life in my hands. It was then I noticed the clicking of the hammer. I had run dry and was still pulling the trigger. I gave the bloody carnage one final kick, feeling bone and flesh give way before turning and walking away. Marco and Markus would be a few minutes as they looted the pockets and wallets of our victims. 

I wanted to get home before the cops started poking around. I toss the bloody shirt into an alley. The warm night air felt good as I walked home. It calmed me down and let me think. I knew I overreacted to the kids words but if there was one thing that got to me it was trust fund babies who never worked a day in their lives, thinking they were better than the middle class, the lower class....people who worked fourteen hour days jus to be able to eat for a week

God I hated the rich....

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Anyone reading please remeber this is purely ficitonal, these actions have never taken place and the graphic nature is completely unrelated to any crimes commited. Also please if you have not already google Kony 2012. The terrible crimes being commited in Africa while nothing new for them is never the less horid and wrong. Please offer your support and prayers for the vitcims in Africa.