[ while watching
wheel of fortune ]
i have always wondered who would be murdered next.
my guesses are always wrong. finding a pattern to the people who leave and go is difficult than i had thought, but then i realize that the pattern is having no pattern. it is at random. we are all merely actors, standing behind stage, waiting for our cue until we each have our final scene.
a contestant
spins the wheel.
bankrupt.
the crowd aws.
he laughs.
i have always wondered who would be murdered last.
one by one, we all fall in some way. death by poison, death by overdose, death by a dripping hand from your blue t.v. screen clawing your insides out. i think they have stopped trying to find out who is taking all these people. i haven't.
another contestant spins the wheel.
they get drenched in blood.
the crowd is screaming.
they seem happy about it.
the host does too.
who's blood is it?
i have always wondered when i would be murdered.
of course, i know thoughts such as this aren't really normal to others, but they're normal to me. i did live in the building where the breath of life would cease to exist as soon as one would pick a room, a ticket from the hat, a broken spin on the wheel of fortune.
another contestant.
their name was blank.
they spin.
they win $50,000.
the crowd does not smile.
the host's eyes roll back
and sink into his skull.
the audiences' skin melts off.
what a shame.
but no fortune lies here.
