Godsend

The Unexpectedly Unfinal Words of Perry Scribner

January 19th, 2015 11:14 PM

 To whoever finds me, I just want it to be known that I didn't kill myself out of depression, or because my kids hate me, or because there's no butterscotch pudding left in the goddamn fridge; I just think I've seen all that I ever will. Paige and Logan are all grown up and ready to drop out of college, so my work as a parent is effectively over, my beloved wife is busy being somebody elses beloved, I'm too old and out of shape to find a new woman, and I know damn well I'm too lazy to get back in shape, so I'd say my goose is cooked.

I lived the life that the good lord put me on this earth to live, though it is a bit of a slap in the face to god if I kill myself, but I haven't been to church in years, so I doubt prayer and free donuts will save me now. I've decided to shoot myself with the revolver I bought right after 9/11, I don't want to feel anything and I want to be cremated so nobody has to look at my sad excuse of a face at a funeral.

Lots of luck getting the blood off the carpet

P.

Perry stared intently at the printer, waiting for it to print his final words, the last words anyone would ever remember him by. The printer hummed a low growl, spitting out his page of pretentious filth, Perry slid it out of the printer and looked it over. The sardonic tone was about as appropriate as could be, Perry saw his remaining life as a farce anyhow, a cruel joke that nobody with a sense of humor would laugh at. He held the paper tightly between his thumb and forefinger, debating if it was time to write a second draft. Ultimately he decided that it was good enough and set it on the neatly made bed.

Perry sat on the bed in his sparsely decorated bedroom, careful not to ruin the neatness of it all, and peered down to his right side. The laughably small pistol was pressing against his leg, he imagined how silly he would look limping into the hospital with a gunshot wound to the thigh. He grabbed the gun quickly, sizing up the weight of it. His hands were slippery with sweat, he made sure to maintain a firm grip. His heart was racing, but he didn't have any second thoughts, he'd had months to think this through, he wanted this. This was the only logical step left for him to take. He made sure to place the gun directly against his forehead, he'd heard stories before of people attempting suicide and fucking it up by missing all the vital pieces of the brain. “Fuck that.” Perry shook his head at the thought of being a speechless vegetable, a fate worse than death, or the purgatory of living the way he was.

Steeling his wavering hand, he took a deep breath in and began to squeeze the trigger. Everything went black. “Is this death?” Perry thought out loud. Less than a second later, his bedroom was once again illuminated, only now there was a figure standing directly in front of him. Before Perry could think, he pointed the barrel of the gun away from his head and fired. The bullet hit its intended target, painting the bedroom wall with crimson. The bullet had struck the individual in the neck, causing him to collapse to his knees, gasping for air. Perry continued to pull the trigger, but the gun was only loaded with one bullet, the bullet he had planned for himself.

Perry threw the gun at the assailant, striking him in the face as he bled out. Looking at the man confused Perry, he was unusual. He wasn't sure if this was just an after effect of having shot someone, but he didn't much care. Perry tackled the man to the floor and began choking him. It was only then that Perry had realized why the man looked so odd, it was Him. Perry let him go immediately.

“What the fuck?! What is this? What the fuck?” Perry turned away and looked back to see if the man that appeared to be him was in fact, still him. The gurgling mess on the floor was still Perry, choking out blood all over the shag carpet. Perry walked around the room, unsure of what he was looking for, until he saw his cellphone on the nightstand. He lurched across the room and dialed 911, and realizing that he was also covered in blood. It rang for a moment,

“Come on come on come on, pick the fuck up!” He screamed to himself. The operator finally picked up the phone. The police station was rife with excitement from what Perry could hear on the line.

“Littleton Police Department, please hold." A young woman was almost yelling into the receiver.

"What the hell is going on?"

 Perry hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed, he didn't know what to do with this man. He stared at him; he was wearing an outfit of Perry's that he recognized. Perry crept up to the man, he was still blinking and twitching. He knelt down to get a closer look. The doppleganger grabbed Perry by the ankle with a less than tenuous grip, he appeared to be uttering words under his breath. Perry leaned in closer, the man even smelled like him. Through the choking and gurgling, Perry could make out one single word

"Fuck."