The day I tried to live fiction story part 1 (Explicit)(Immature)

Short story. Work in progress. Working Title. Please excuse the likely horrendous grammar errors.

I woke covered in sweat and sprang straight up. I dreamt I was in prison. As I realized where I was, my apartment a tsunami of relief washed over me. Was my dream a fluke or a premonition? This is what I contemplated as I rolled over and stared at my sleeping wife.

My wife Dianne is stunningly beautiful. One time I was sitting at a bar as she danced with friends, I heard a guy call her a butterface. “Everything is good butt her face” he joked. When he left he was a butthis face. Everything was broken butt his face. Actually that doesn't really make sense because I specifically remember breaking his face. Anyways, you know what I mean.

I don't give a fuck what others think of her. Diane treats me right, truly loves me and she’s there when I need her. What more could a guy ask for? To me, Diane is perfect and she deserves better than I can provide. I looked around our crumby studio apartment and my sub par collection of junk. I personally don't need much to survive. I don't need 4k televisions or exotic cars. Not having nice things doesn't make me angry, it doesn't make me want to cry. What makes me angry is that I really tried to get those things. What makes me cry is that Diane works two jobs just so we can make ends meet.
I thought back to my dream. Would I end up in jail today? Would i spend years or possibly life in prison after today? This was very doubtful. Yes I intend to commit many crimes today. No I don’t have any clue what I'm doing.

Two reasons I know I won’t end up in jail. Reason A is a quote from the movie Braveheart. “They may take my life, but they will never take my freedom”. Reason two why I won’t go to jail is that my plan is too perfect to fail. A complicated plan will never work. Too much can go wrong. My plan is to have no plan whatsoever. Don't get me wrong I have a goal. My goal is money, respect and power. As to how I will achieve this, I have no fucking clue! To me that's beautiful. Today I will create my own destiny “I will not go quietly into the night! I will not vanish without a fight! I’m going to live on! I’m going to survive! Today I celebrate my Independence Day”.

Back to my unplanned plan, I literally don't know where to start. Take the train or steal a car. If I take the train, will I go North to Milwaukee or South to Chicago? Will I rob a bank or take over a crime syndicate. I don't know and that's why I won't be caught. If I try to rob a drive through and I can't pull the register out the window like the guy in the YouTube video, I'll just walk away and try to kidnap a C.E.O. No plan means nothing can possibly go wrong. Any “problems” just mean that I didn't really understand what I thought I was supposed to be doing anyways.

A supporting detail for reason number A is that my friend can make a killer bullet sandwich. This sandwich is to die for, or so I've heard. My friend is an old rusty Brazilian police surplus 38. I've never had a sandwich prepared by my friend before. Today, I might get real hungry. Please don't misunderstand me my goal is power, fortune and fame. But I have no delusions of that actually working. Today I will go out and give crime the old college try, if it works great. If not Diane will be better off. I named my 38 Wilson. I had never needed to name a gun before and I traditionally would have gone with a female name like Roxanne or Doreen. Today I choose Wilson because I figured screaming “Wilson” at my gun while I deepthroat the barrel will be kinda funny. If nothing else it may make the guy who has to clean up giggle a little. I like to have fun with serious situations. If you can't laugh then why breathe, right.

I kissed Diane's shoulder and rolled out of bed. I wasn't worried about waking her as she worked late last night. I got dressed. White t-shirt, black hoodie and an old pair of blue jeans. I put on my favorite black Cubs hat and put my sunglasses on top of the brim for now. It is around 4:30 am, I always like to wake early when I'm excited for something. I started packing for my day. I reached behind the fridge and fished for a brown paper bag I previously hid there. Inside the bag is a bowie knife that would make Crocodile Dundee piss his dungarees and swim back to cuba or wherever he's from. There is also a black bandana, duct tape, a police scanner and a black ski mask. I put the contents into a backpack. I also packed a yellow and a blue wind breaker in case I need to change my description. 1 pair of gloves. I packed a couple of Twinkies in case conquering the world makes me hungry. I feel like Tyler Durdin do you have two black shirts? Two black pair of trousers? One pair of heavy black socks? “I'm like a monkey, ready to be shot into space. Space monkey! Ready to sacrifice myself for the greater good”. I put Wilson in the bag for now along with a box of ammo. I hid the bag under the table, just in case Diane woke and then I started making breakfast.

I typically don't eat breakfast but I've heard that “breakfast is the most important meal of the day”. Today is too important to fuck up so I refuse to risk it by skipping breakfast. As I cook I start thinking, if I had always eaten breakfast maybe I wouldn't be in this spot now. My cooking must have woke Diane. She got up with me and we talked, we joked, we ate, and made love. Then she went back to bed. God, do I love that woman!

We don't use protection. We are, or were trying to have a baby. A thought, what if today is the day I finally got her pregnant? What if our dream came true today and then I go off on a one way mission to crazy town. Our dream of a child would turn into a single mother's nightmare pretty damn quick. I dismiss the thought immediately. That happens to be the main inspiration for my crime ambitions. I'm sterile, Diane is not and we are too poor to adopt sooo. They won't even let us adopt a cat because our apartment is too small. Fuck! Fuck everything else money, cars, houses, everything. Diane deserves a child. Today I'll find a way to give her one or I'll get out of her way.

This all probably seems really somber, but the truth is I am in a good mood. There's a certain amount of freedom in being able to say fuck the police and mean it. To be honest I have a ray of hope that I can actually make something of myself today. With this shield or on it! Carpe Diem! I'm gonna make today my bitch.

I have prepared a note for lovely Diane. I know she deserves better than a note but, I've failed at almost everything else anyways. Why break my failure stride while saying goodbye. I need to hide it in a place she won't find right away. I don't need her running around looking for me. In the note I tell Diane about the P.O. box I rented for the slim chance that I am successful. I finish the note with a reference to her favorite movie. “Your a peacock, I gotta let you fly”. I hide the note in the oven. Diane isn't much of a cook it may be weeks before she finds it. I just hope she doesn't preheat my note.

If I find any success today I will FedEx the money to myself anonymously, in case I get killed heading home. It's almost 6:00 am now and it's time to make the call.

I kiss Diane on the forehead, she squirms a little and then settles back in. You have no idea how much I love you I whisper. I look around my apartment for what is likely the last time ever. What a shit hole. I walk into the hallway and shut the door. I take the stairs today, because there is no elevator.

Then I walk outside, I get about a block away and take out my prepaid Obama phone. Ring ring. “Yeah, what” is the response I get. Hey Doug it's me. I'm not coming today I'm sick. I hear a long pause and then “You really are a piece of shit aren't you”. I hear a click as Doug hangs up. Yeah Doug, well you just made my list. Luckily for you I have bigger fish to fry. Doug is probably going to fire me but I'm not worried about that. You see Doug runs a box factory and pays me next to nothing to clean the machines. I've been working for Doug almost two weeks, since I got fired from my last job. Which is another reason I had to make my move today. Today is payday and the wife is finally going to find out that I got fired from my union custodian job.

I briefly consider kidnapping my old boss on his way to work then driving him to Doug's house and making the two of them fight to the death with a broken pool cue. Like in the Dark Knight only the winner doesn't get a job, he gets a bullet fucking sandwich. I shrug it off, I'm turning over a new leaf. Today is my day and assholes like Doug aren't going to ruin it. I start walking at a brisk pace towards the train station.

I'm about a mile from the train and feeling great. I want to keep walking but I see a car running in a driveway. I have to do it, this is fate, I need to pop my criminal cherry. I decide to steal the car just for a thrill, i'll ditch it soon. I lean against a large tree and take out my gloves, ski mask and Wilson. I put Wilson in the front of my belt you know, in case the car doesn't want to cooperate or tries to play hero. Better to be safe than sorry right. I put on my gloves and mask, put my bag over one shoulder. I peek around the side of the tree. The coast is clear so I walk briskly to the car, open the door, throw my backpack in the passenger seat and buckle up.

I hear rrrrrrr, rrrrrrr, woof, woof, woof. There is a massive fucking mutt in here FUCK! I don't do dogs. Wow that sounded weird. I don't hang out with or near dogs. I also don't do dogs, I want to be real clear about that. The dog lunges right as I'm up and out of the door, which I slam with malice. The dog keeps attacking the window. Scratching and slobbering on it. For some reason I decide to moon the dog. Do you know the feeling when your mooning cujo as he attacks the window of a car you tried to steal and you realize you left your backpack in the passenger seat?

Shit! I run back behind my original tree, tripping while pulling up my pants. I could waste the dog through the window. That thought seems wrong. I don't like that dog but I don't feel right killing him for doing his job. If anything, I respect him. He is way better at his job than I have ever been. The car owner will be out soon. I'll run up, jam Wilson in his face and demand back what his dog stole from me.

So I wait, eventually the car owner and presumably also the dog owner comes out. She is an attractive late 20s business woman. I feel bad scaring this poor lady. Then I think of the song Guilty Conscience by Eminem “Can you afford to blow this, are you that rich why do you care if she lives or dies? Are you that bitch? I run up to the door just as she is closing it. I point Wilson at the window and motion for here to roll the window down, she complies. Don’t hurt me she says. I just want the bag lady. She promptly hands me her purse. Not your bag, my bag I exclaim as I gesture towards the passenger seat. She looks genuinely confused as she hands me my bag. Thank you I say, also since I didn't actually take anything of yours I don't think we need to involve the police in this. Kinda like a no harm, no foul deal. What do you say mam? She nods in agreement to keep this bizarre incident to herself. I don't really believe her. I start to walk away but I know what must be done.

I run back to the window. I reenact the liquor store scene from Fight Club. I tell her “I know who you are and where you live. I'll be back in six months and if your not well on your way to becoming a veterinarian, I'll kill you”. She starts balling. Geez I think, some people can't take a joke. Time for a brisk jog.
Copyright Jack Taxbot 2017

Thanks for reading! I am new to writing and appreciate comments and criticism. If popular I will post part 2.