Russian Roulette

Father stumbled all of the way home, the ordeal had been too much for him. Reaching his lab, he mixed the strongest drink he knew. As it burned down his throat Father pulled the 45 from his waistband and placed the barrel against his temple. His trembling hand squeezed the trigger. Click! The gun jammed. Disgusted, Father slipped the cylinder to the next chamber, slammed the barrel against his forehead and jerked the trigger. Click! “Damn it, Crow” he screamed. “Why won’t you let me die?” Throwing the gun in the corner, it went off with a Bang!

Father shook his head in disgust, ‘I’m going to bed,’ he muttered to himself. When he was halfway to the door, his eyes fell on a faded pad of pink paper and a blue ball point pen. Snatching them up, Father threw himself down in the swivel desk chair and slammed the pad onto the desk. Jamming his thumb down on the pen, Father began to scribble furiously, laughing as the pen flew down the page. Reaching the edge of the paper, he threw the pen down, got up and stormed out of the lab.

Here dear readers is what we believe he wrote,

Click Damn

Gun Jammed

Clear the chamber

Try again

Bam

A door slams

Gun shakes loosely

From hand

Clamoring to the floor

In echoing notes

Chimes it’s time for bed