One Man’s Code in a World Without Rules

The owl knows best.

I went to the door and he pulled the trigger. I did not hear the glass shatter, or feel the bullet penetrate my abdomen. I did not feel pain, not until after the police arrived. I fell back onto the stairs, sitting nearly upright. He did not pull the trigger again. I’m lucky for that, or I might not be writing this right now. I might be reading my obituary, over my father’s shoulder, a ghost waiting for retrieval. It’s a good thing; a son is not supposed to go before his father. No father should have to bury a son. He ran away, like a coward, because he knew if I got my hands on him, I would not let go. He fucked up though, leaving me alive. I will get him, before the police. I’m gonna drop his limp and lifeless body on her front porch, ring the bell, and run away. He’s a pile of shit; she’ll get it. She’s not stupid.

I welcomed the shot, to be quite honest. I’d been waiting for something to happen in my life, and it felt like something big was brewing. Something really big. Monumental. Ginormous. Galaxy-sized. I didn’t think it would be a gunshot. I thought it might be one of two things: either, she was coming back for me, or, I was dying. I thought I was dying. I know: sounds silly. It sounds silly when I say it, but it’s the truth. The truth ain’t always prettified. Sometimes it’s just stale bread.