He Changed

He Changed

He wanted to be nice to people. That included everybody: his younger gay lover, his black neighbour, his Asian sister, his disabled boss and anyone else he came into contact with. His words were often cutting and to the point. They could make others cry. Or fight.

                       

When he punched it was lethal, no bullet needed. Why then did he feel the need to change? Did fifty long years of being a cunt bug his conscience? Or was it what he saw that day? He needed some milk but was almost too lazy to go. Harsh black coffee persuaded him.

It was while at the market he saw it, the shooting. A man, he could have been anybody, had his fucking head blown off. The shooter approached from behind and fired. That was that. A man dead, half his brains on the ground and everyone screaming.

Our moody bad tempered man was silent; he said nothing. But his eyes saw everything. In his mind, he changed. No more harsh words. Guilt sprouted forth on every insult and slight that he'd ever done. He returned home and made his milky coffee.

And said to himself, I'm going to change. I'm not going to be nasty or bad tempered or a cunt with people. I'll start with my lover, then my neighbours and finally, everyone else. I can be a nice person. Then he called the cops and said he'd do a witness statement on what he'd seen.

He wanted to bring a killer to justice. A man had died but another had been reborn. It's never too late to change.

Being Normal Is Boring - Broken Aeroplanes, Screwed People, Alternative Writing, :)

Jimmy Boom Semtex