Dr. Apopolus

Zack paused.

“Abolition, wait, embargo, Fuck! Lost it”

He stared up at the scorching sun, and took a swig from a small bottle of medicine. He felt the chemicals slither down his throat and nestle in his center.

“Ah, this sting I crave”

Zack drained the bottle and threw it to the ground. The sun beat down hotter, and Zack knew why. The land, the stars, the sun, the moon, all of them pushed him toward his defining moment, this task beset in dirt and pasture, in victim and in vice.

In front of Zack stood a chapel, Mass was still in procession. He heard the priest’s voice echoing in the loins of the building. It resounded throughout the surrounding field.

Zack marched his boots up the stairs and stumbled into the heart of the service. One of the senior parishioners raced over and began to usher him into a seat. He would not be ushered. Instead, he drew a revolver from his boot and squeezed one off, directly into the man’s chest.

The church lit up with screams. Some cowered behind pews, others made for the exits.

“Everybody, sit the fuck down!” Screamed Zack

The Priest dropped to his knees and began to pray, Zack squeezed off a second round. The priest’s head dropped to the floor. Screams erupted, once more.

“I said shut up! You think the meek will inherit the earth? No one’s inheriting a goddamn thing!”

“Just tell us what you want? Please don’t hurt us, we beg of you” cried an elderly gentleman.

“Want?” cried Zack with a gunshot “Do you not see?” The man hit the floor.

Zack paused for a moment.

“What do I want?” added Zack, taking a shot at one of the alter boys.

“I want to know the difference between abolition and embargo”

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Happenstance

Dr. Apopolus

Also, I'd like to know if this one's funny. Sorry, it's pretty rude but, well, it's late and I'm tired.

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Steve sandwiched six slices of banana and two halves of bread into his work vice. He loved that vice. In his free time he’d reflect upon it. He’d sigh and mutter “Ahhh, work vice!” Though, in actuality, it was sort of an everyday vice.

“Initiating vice!” He informed the stagnant air knocking-about his basement. He began the countdown, similar the one they do before a shuttle launch, but with more work vice.

“Peter piper picked a pack of pickled peppers, go!” Screamed Steve. turning the lever, and feeling a sharp connection to God.

“Bet God has a work vice, bet he’s got him 2” He said, smiling and turning.

Banana oozed out and gelled onto his fingers. Steve didn’t care. Not even his work vice could stop him from turning the handle to his work vice. One time a piece of metal drove itself deep into his side, and although he wasn’t operating the vice, he was almost positively thinking about it.

He pressed his lips against its surface and blew a delicate raspberry.

“Oh! You rude bastard!” He teased.

Steve wished the vice could hug him, or better still, love.

Albeit, he knew it could never be. That is until, one day, he knew how it could!

Steve sandwiched one slice of banana and two halves of bread into his work vice.

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Happenstance

omginternetlord

"Cried" and "Added" shouldn't be capitalised.

Apart from that it's actually quite well written.

Zensati

Hasn't won me over, but it is an interesting effort. keep it up. I think you should possibly stick with one central character. just an idea..

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http://www.writingforums.com/short-s...al-artist.html

Admit it. Zensati is our god. - JHB

Rogozhin

Hahaha.

I love you dude. I read your other stuff too.

Now I want to ask you, can you make a book out it?

Dr. Apopolus

Thanks, I'll edit those.

Thanks. I doubt that I could make a book out of it unless, of course, the book was a collection of incredibly short stories.

I'll start working on something more credible soon. Till then, you'll have to make do with these tidbits.

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Happenstance