Month: April 2013

Wish of Despair Part 17

Posted on by Johnny Roque

My hand slides up her firm, silky, cold thigh. My heart beats faster with every inch my fingers cover. I imagine she loves this. Her eyes wide open looking at me, anticipating my next move. I want her to grab a handful of hair, pulling me in to whisper all the fantasies that cross her mind at night. Yes, let us keep moving. Put the gun on her head and turn her around, then pull her sweats down to her knees. Our amazing plans, keep listening to us, we left the store caring everything and then some, now let us enjoy the sweet treats. After we bend her over, taking our pants down leaves no worries of her identifying our face. That makes sense. Let us take off our mask.

“Hi I’m Rod, I think you’re wonderful and I am sorry for kidnapping you.” That sounded a lot better than I thought. “I know you’re Emily and you go to school so don’t worry about introducing yourself.” Under normal circumstances I think she might like me. We ruined it. Now she knows our look. Her report to the police stands in court without any question. Let us forget about raping her. Just drop her off.

“Thank you, but are you going to let me off soon?” She says that scooting up against the car door. I hope she stays in the car, jumping at this speed ensures a harsh landing with plenty of skin tearing and bruising.

“Don’t jump out. I’m going to let you off at this stop sign.” The stop sign looked far, now it moves closer faster than my eyes want to realize.

Wish of Despair Part 16

Posted on by Johnny Roque

Stupid me! In cold weather people never take off their sweater. Just breathe slowly. Say something soothing to ease the tension. Hi Emily, sorry for the huge inconvenience, people call me Rod. No that sounds dumb. Emily I think your smile turns the world. I hate this part in meeting women. The entire introduction of me to her seems juvenile. The fear of small talk drives the increasing numbers of people logging on to find a date.

Reading everything about someone, their likes, dislikes, interest, even their sexual preferences takes a load of worry off. Every woman puts up that she prefers an honest man. Women love honesty. Wearing a mask destroyed any hope of trust in our future relationship. These thoughts make no sense. She hates me, all hostages hate their captors.

Keep the mask on. It makes us look mysterious and dangerous. The gun makes us look dangerous. Let us keep the element of surprise. Obviously the next step in our plan leads to us just taking her. Like Stanley in A Street Car Named Desire. Perfect setting too, our car driving on the street and our desire sits next to us named Emily. She looks horrified. Horror flows through her veins, a man wearing a mask holding a gun scares anybody. It scares her in a good way. Look at her breathing, her chest expanding then decompressing drives us crazy. Put our hand on her thigh. We want to more than anything in this world right now. Remember no regrets, live in the moment.

Touching her thigh sends sparks flying through my hand. All the nerves in my body desire more. The goose bumps that lift her skin feel like a love letter in brail telling me to go further. Though her tears say otherwise.

Wish of Despair Part 15

Posted on by Johnny Roque

“Put your damn seatbelt on.” My aggressive tone takes me off guard, but the precaution of a seatbelt means life or death at times. The mess in the car embarrasses me. Speeding off down the road crossed my mind, taking every turn and running stop signs makes sense. Flee the crime scene quickly. Every minute I take feels like destiny forcing us closer. Forcing us closer? Not us, but Emily and I.

Emily and us, we saw her, we took her, and now we lust over her. Take control of the situation. The wife we go home to hates us. This lovely specimen of God’s power in creating beauty sits right next to us. Let us reach across to come close to God’s gift. Some only dream of touching a gift like the Sun or happiness, we just need to extend our arm. Icarus tried touching the sun, he ended up in flames diving towards the earth.

His father watched him go up and down. The wanting of more lead to his fall, escaping prison left a thirst that only some quench through failure. Leaving it good enough never hurt anybody.  Let us go home to our angry wife. We accomplished more than we planned. Leaving the house we only thought about money, but then we took diapers and pickles increasing our haul to nearly three times the amount we wanted. Fine let’s cut our losses. Just ask her a few questions and if her answers make us unsatisfied then we no longer need her around, drop her off, drive away, go home.

“Emily. Thank you for your cooperation. I’m sorry for shooting your boyfriend. Please forgive me, it had to be done.” She seems comfortable. “Is it too cold for you?” I hope not.

“Um…no, no, it’s not. Thank you.” Her voice stutters out timid and humble. I knew that the temperature made her happy. We make her happy. Let’s not put the left food ahead of us twice. Slow and steady steps, jumping to conclusions like that brings embarrassing moments that last forever.

“If it’s too cold you can take off your sweater.” Good move, let’s make her comfortable. 

Wish of Despair Part 14

Posted on by Johnny Roque

The thought of taking a beauty like Emily in the heat of lust turned my stomach. All the ugly inside of me reflected at the thought of her struggling tear filled screams. The coke brain shouted and screamed at us to take advantage. A gun in our hand, the intoxicated girl, and a dirt road quickly appeared in my mind. Coke or no coke my brain built a plan, an evil shameful plan that rose out of lust.

Lust destroys lives every day. Husbands marry their wives out of love, they cheat out of lust. A weakness that overpowers all senses, it starts at the most sensitive area of a man and leads to a crumbling disastrous end. Women function out of lust too, except their bodies function differently. The rise of lust in them moves like an oven. It rises slowly, measurable, enjoyable; they choose who or what to release it on. Men handle lust like a fire; it ignites instantly leaving a panic to find something wet enough to put it out. I miss my days that myth of lust only lived in older friends stories.

The days that love meant more than anything else passed quickly. One day I dreamt of my princess walking into my life then almost instantly overnight I wake up surprise to see my penis up, waiting on me. After that day a princess meant some girl that touched me the right way, even the wrong way, just a touch brought the idea that this girl now means everything to me. A foolish thought that slowly drifted away forcing me to fish in the assumption that lust meant love. That took years of trial and error to figure out. Now at my age I know the difference between love and lust, and I know that I love Emily. Seeing any harm happen to her puts no satisfaction in my soul. I love Emily, but in a few miles everything I know about Emily evaporates into a memory I left at the side of the road.

Wish of Despair Part 13

Posted on by Johnny Roque

Walking out I hear their muffled screams in the closet and I see Emily push the cart. Her walking in front of me; wearing the sexiest sweat pants in the world, pushing the cart, swaying her hips in the most hypnotic way. Everything that happened tonight, all the fear and doubt disappears after every step she takes in her Chuck Taylors. Only a special woman wears Chuck Taylors in such a seductive way.

“Emily it’s the brown one right here.” I wish I pointed out a Jaguar or a Camero. A lovely lady like her deserves to ride in the finest. I know she looks at people on the inside making material things mean nothing to her. “Please put everything in the back seat. Be careful with the pickles, put those on the floor. Oh you already did, I didn’t see that.” Just like her, one step ahead. Now time to jump in the front seat and leave. Almost forgot to open Emily’s door. “Go ahead and get in. Don’t worry I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to take you a few miles down the road and let you off.” The way she agrees instantly puts my body in a shocking chill. Slow head movements up and down, down and up, saying yes putting an extra hard thump in my chest.

In our chest. Finally, we wanted her to our self all night. The microscopic chances of us and her finally alone actually appearing, we need to go to Vegas. Luck like this only last until the next strong gust of wind that passes then it flies to the next bum down on his luck. Imagining her down on my luck erects the hair on the back of my next. Next stop we make our luck filled move.

Wish of Despair Part 12

Posted on by Johnny Roque

I regret everything, this entire night, my entire life, full of regrets. Not our life. I know that tonight might lead to prison. Walking towards the door slowly adds a flavor to the air that prison inmates often dream about. Emily pushes the cart waiting at the entrance. Her face glistens appearing to resemble beautiful porcelain. Good thing all elderly women retire to their bed during the late night monologue of their preferred talk show host. Any grandmother in the world dreams of collecting a doll that looks this beautiful. Too bad though. The next ten minutes she belongs to me. “Emily do not get ahead of me, follow me.”  She fumbles frantically to turn the cart in my direction. Her perfection stuns me. Finding a good woman takes time, nobody ever moves that quickly after I say something, not even in my own house. “Thank you dear.”

Dear? That sounds terrible even in my head. Our head and let us leave. One second. This guns action put a terrible burden on us. One word out of anybody jeopardizes my life, my life that slowly spins down the drain holding the rest of the diarrhea, but my one life. A cop, a cashier, and a pot head, my life hangs in the balance of these three average to less than average men and the ability that these men keep their mouths shut. An easy fix to a problem, like three squawking birds outside a window, shutting their mouths ensures a peaceful day. Nobody misses average people.

“Ernesto where is your broom closet?” This part makes me hate myself.

“In the back corner”, his eyes shift toward the aisle next to refrigerated goods.

“Give me the key.” Saying please crossed my mind, but I rule these people and rulers use their iron fist to stay in power. My iron fist holds eight fingers, but now it has seven.

“My hands are…” Sadly I forget about the duct tape on his hands and the rest. My politeness might work better in forcing them to my will.

“Good point, left pocket or right please?” That destroyed the entire image I created.

“Right.” Damn, that ring of keys in his pocket.

Reaching into Ernesto’s pocket my hand glides across his penis. This robbery finally crossed the line. That small fist in his pants means his wife complains less than others at least. “Hurry up move towards the supply closet everybody.” All three move in a wounded animal format, tripping over one another’s feet. Finally at the closet I shove them all in like a bully. I raise my hand holding the gun to hold the door open, the gun barrel pointing straight at their heads. “I’m sorry I have to do this.” Good finish them all, no witnesses. My free hand reaches over and partly unwraps three of the ice cream sandwiches, stuffing them into their mouths. Ernesto panics in confusion, Jim stands there wanting me to just leave, and Ted gleefully starts to eat his sandwich. “I can’t have you guys making any noise. Thank you for your cooperation, Emily let’s go and be quick about it.” The door slowly closes. All their eyes show the same look of panic and confusion, I know since my eyes share the same look.

Wish of Despair Part 11

Posted on by Johnny Roque

A quick grab to Emily’s arm stops her screaming. Once our eyes lock the fear shows. Frightened in every way possible my bones chill in the attempt to hide my admiration of her. In the world I live in meeting a woman this wonderful never last. They die eventually, now or later, it all leads to death.

Fairy tales told to children focus on life. All the good guys triumph and the bad guys fall. Not even the bad people die in fairy tales. They either learn their lesson or spend the rest of their lives on an island prison to never bother anybody again. Understanding a life that only involves living keeps a blind fold over their head nice and tight. Walking fearlessly throughout the world to only experience the beauty it offers. Death rips that blind fold off during a recess period at the top of a marble match. One shot to knock all the marbles into my pocket, and then suddenly a spectator’s shadow covers the sun distorting my shot. Two hands on my shoulder pick me up to turn me around. The instructions sent me to the principal’s office. A man that struck fear in my heart sat across the table barely creating eye contact.

“Dale something happened to your mother. Your father is on his way to come get you. Please don’t feel the need to worry about homework or school for the next two or three weeks.”

He told me this. He looked at me in a search of permission. My father picked me up. On the way home he drove faster than normal. The silence forced time to nearly a halt. Slow drips of tears landed on the carpet after every footstep to my room. My father made it to the living room. There he collapsed biting a pillow to muffle his screams. Death, a thing powerful enough to make the most superman man I know weep. My head laid there thinking of all the fairy tales and it ran in circles trying to figure out the reason my mother died. Good triumphs and evil fails, those two things lived as truths in my heart and now my mother landed on the evil side. Death only allows sorry to triumph and my mother failing to prevent death made her evil. Finally after a day and a half of not moving, eating, or sleeping I broke through to realize the bullshit that those fairy tales fed me. My mother, the most beautiful person to live contained nothing evil inside her. A new truth ruled my heart, “Nothing last, they die eventually, nor or later, it all leads to death, enjoy life to the fullest take pleasure and leave no regrets.”

Wish of Despair Part 10

Posted on by Johnny Roque

“No!” Shit I said that out loud, again. We got to stop that, keep our head together. Shooting someone immediately attracts bullets. Bullets build the quickest coffins.  Stop sweating everybody smells it, even us. The difficulty of shooting someone ranges.

At first squeeze the hairline distance weighs a thousand pounds. Every heart beat increases the intensity of the decision. The reflection sharpens after every thump and the thought of the bullet penetrates the fear of death of our own self. Not our self, death lurks on the weak. Our strength lives in the spontaneous actions that we love. Death stops all spontaneous actions, but a spontaneous equals the best spontaneous action possible. Looking at these individuals only focuses every ounce of blood in me, flowing fast like water bursting out a clogged lawn hose that finally found a pin hole opening at the front. The thought of blood caused by a metric unit of distance in a fraction of a second scares me.

“Now follow my instructions or I’ll shoot all of you dead. Earnest put all the money in a paper bag and then put that bag in a plastic bag. Ted use that cart and put all the baby food and diapers in it.” Remember the pickles.  “Thank you for the reminder. Get the pickles to, the pickles hold more importance than all the other things.” Not more important than the duct tape. “Also duct tape, just one roll. That holds more importance than the pickles. Forget any of that and you can count on a bullet waiting for you. Ernesto the money please!”

“Here take the money and leave.” The money sounds more important than the leaving.

“I got everything you asked.” Ted brought everything. He even added a few donuts, ice cream sandwiches, and a small orange juice.

“Now bind Ernesto and Jim’s hands together. Now Jim slowly walk towards Ernesto and hold his hands with yours.” I hope Jim listens. Him running foils all our perfect planning. Superb Jim listens perfectly. I wish to give him a reward, maybe an ice cream sandwich. “Emily bind Ted’s hands to theirs please.”  Looking at her wrap the tape around Ted’s wrist really runs my imagination full of bed post and a bit of dominating one another until our wrist bruised finely and our bodies lay satisfied. “Good job tying them up, now come over here and tie me up.”

“Excuse me?” Emily’s high pitched voice caught everybody off guard more than my tie up slip.

“I mean help me get this stuff to my car.” One final thing we must cross off our list. We need to leave. We need to shoot someone, that or we pull the mask off and yes that fear holds no chains on me. “Emily what’s the worst thing Ted has ever done to you?”

“Um, um he forgot my birthday my birthday on June 12th.”

“That makes you a Gemini. I love Gemini’s we are indirect soul mates. Ted never forget June 12th and if you do it will feel like a bite in the ass.” Squeezing that hairline fraction put a loud hole in his rear and an unfortunate ringing in both my ears. The gun handled the left and Emily screams took care of the right, even her screams make my body fill and expel passion.

 

Wish of Despair Part 9

Posted on by Johnny Roque

IDs, sticking to the IDs plan. “Everybody heard that, Jim Harris and I want to wake up in our own beds tomorrow, now pass up those IDs.” In my hand I hold five ID’s Jim Harris, Ted Long, the beautiful Emily Frankson, and Ernesto Hernandez. Now thank them all. “Thank you all for your cooperation.” Any other bright ideas pal? Pal? Just say us. Let us keep the formalities at the door. Ideas, ideas, ideas oh I know, but promise us to follow all of them. “All of them?” Yes all of them or none of them. Go ahead and shoot.

You first, but now force Ernesto to put all the money in a paper bag, then in a plastic bag. Good, double bag it, keep it all together. Next make Ted run and put all the baby food, diapers, and pickles. Why the Pickles? Patty loves pickles and running out needlessly twice only attracts attention and attention sends us to jail.  Good point. After demand Ted to wrap Ernesto and Jim’s hands together using duct tape, then ask Emily, sexy little Emily, to wrap Ted’s hands to Ernesto and Jim. The things Emily makes us want, a bite, hair pull, taste, and force feed her our desires. We digress. I have an erection. Yes our erection. Take Emily to the car, help her in, drive about a mile down and drop her off in a well lit area. Those ideas ensure our safety, glad we made that deal. About that deal finally shoot someone, make the trip worth the gas at least.

Wish of Despair Part 8

Posted on by Johnny Roque

I need ideas now. This old guy, the cop, Officer Jim Harris stood in front of my gun and my gun never meant to press against his temple. Those words sound like excuses, not ideas. I need ideas. That sounds like a terrible plead, no court in the world cares about excuses.

Excuses leads to the fall of every man. It led to the fall of the first man. Adam told God “It was her” or something around that. God knew the truth, the excuse forced God to lose the respect he placed in Adam. A man not containing any respect must leave God’s presence. Losing a gift that someone gave and lying about it causes shame in both people. God reached out to install the gift of respect into Adam and in return Adam presented the gift of an excuse, the gift the devil handed to him. Now Officer Jim Harris handed me his wallet, damn Jim Harris deceiving looks.

Jim Harris holds no resemblance of any cop ever. This old man looks like he fixes wooden shoes or something of that dying craft form. Jim buddy, never go out this late at your age. An old guy like you looks like perfect pray. I saw him while I sat in my car. Once he put his drink on the counter my gun landed on his temple. The cold sweat dripping down started almost immediately, surprisingly enough the smell of sweat lead the sweat. His smell leaked into my ski mask. I smelled his sweat in my car. The smell lead me to him and it made sense to put my gun on him, this fright filled old off duty cop of a man.

“Please calm down. I’m hardly even a cop.” His white mustache shook damply. “I just want to return to my wife, dog, and kids. This man behind the counter will do anything you say. Please I am almost ready to retire, watch my son graduate high school and walk my daughter down the aisle. I made it this far on the force. I’m too close to the finish line. Please calm down.”

“Shut up! I’m in charge, not you.” Anytime someone ask me to calm down rage instantly fills my lungs. Plus we make the rules not him.