| User Name: | WizdomGoddess |
| Name/Nick: | Joan Garcia |
| Last Visited On: | Nov. 19th, 2007, 06:43:06, PST |
| Registered On: | June 06, 2006 |
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| Homepage: | http://www.tabulas.com/~mysfaer |
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| Yahoo Handle: | n/a |
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| Biography: | Mr. Grim was walking down the street whistling in his own merry way. He wore a trenchcoat that kept him warm, its bottom flapped with each step. He hated the sunlight, which explains the sunglasses attached to his face. Everywhere he went in the busy old city of Ignoramous, people stopped to stare at this queer young man.
That day fell heavy with rain and seeing a man wearing such an improper outfit caught unwanted attention. The couldn't help it if he stood out like a bee seeping nectar on top of a rose. Mr. Grim was out of place in the fashion department. He knew that nobody really cared who he was, yet how come they cared about how he dressed?
Mr. Grim always proclaimed that he had the worst temper in Ignoramous city. When he walked past two pretty girls who giggled like crazy loons, he made an effort to stop and glare at them. When the giggling didn't stop, he pulled out his gun and watched their haughty faces transform into that of horror.
He enjoyed it more when the bullets he fired created tiny holes on their faces. Blood gushed out like a water spurting out a fireman's waterhose.
There were several witnesses yet nobody moved an inch. The people just watched, some too afraid, some traumatized, some wise enough not to move, and some might probably be glad the girls were dead.
Mr. Grim continued his walk down the street.
Nobody stopped him.
They never tried.
(Fiction, 11/11/2006) |
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