SMOKIN KILLS

This is one way to give up smokin.

                     SMOKIN KILLS

 

    To show they meant business they had stripped me naked, handcuffed my wrists an ankles to a heavy wooden chair then smashed both my kneecaps with hammers.

    When I came to they were standin round, smokin an watchin. One of them threw a bucket of water over me.

    “Thanks,” I grunted. “I needed a shower.”

    Then they went back to work on me. With an electric saw. When I came to I had bloody stumps instead of fingers an thumbs.

    “Never run them thru my hair again,” I muttered, starin at the pulpy mess on both hands.

    They laughed an sprinkled some petrol on my head an set my hair on fire.

    They left me alone for a few minutes after that, after I stopped screamin that is an I could just make out their silhouettes behind the bright light that was shinin on me. There was only dark empty warehouse around us. Broken windows with bars on them. Pools of water on the floor with rain drippin in from the leakin roof.

    They finished their smokes, flicked the butts away into the darkness then casually strolled over an drilled out one of my eyes.

    “Know a good optician?” I managed before I passed out again.

    They brought me round by throwin another bucket of water over me.

    “Christ, that’s two showers in one day,” I complained.

    I shook the water an blood outa my face an peered thru my one good eye. The Boss had arrived. Tall guy. Jet black hair. Expensive suit. They dusted down a chair for him an he sat down.

    “Before you ask,” I rasped, “I still ain’t tellin you where Jimmy Hammond’s hidin out.”

    The Boss didn’t react. Just took a cigarette from a silver case, lit it an sat there smokin.

    “Not much of me left,” I grunted. “Expect that’ll be goin as well?”

    The Boss nodded.

    “Two last requests.”

    He waited.

    “A last smoke then you do it.”

    The Boss nodded again. He brought out his cigarette case an flicked it open. One of them took out a smoke, lit it then strolled over an shoved it in my mouth.

    “Let me hold it,” I rasped.

    The Boss said nothin. Just pointed at the handcuffs at my right wrist.

    “I have to warn you �" I’m armed,” I muttered to the guy as he bent an unlocked the cuffs.

    He shook his head an wedged the smoke between a coupla my bloody stumps.

    “Guess I won’t be countin to five with that hand,” I said, holdin it up.

    The Boss finished his smoke, flicked it away then waited. I smoked mine down till there was some white left.

    “I’ll take a last draw then do it,” I told him.

    He stood up, reached inside his jacket an brought out a handgun.

    I took the last draw.

    “You know,” I said to him, smoke driftin down my nose, “I always knew smokin would kill me.”

    I jammed the butt between my lips, closed my eyes an nodded.

    I heard him stroll over to me. No hurry. Then a coupla seconds later he fired.