Their Just Deserves
by Michael C. Keith
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: Sometimes both sides get what they deserve… even if they don't think so.
_____________________________________________________________________
Hell isn’t other people. Hell is yourself. – Ludwig Wittgenstein
“I deserve better than this . . . goddammit!” growled Kyle Lyman, who’d just killed himself after murdering his ex-wife and brother in-law.
“No way, you bastard!” screamed his dead ex-wife, Cindy, dabbing at her still oozing mortal wound.
“You deserve worse than we got, you prick!” added Cindy’s brother, Jason.
Jason had been a druggy punk who’d sold crack to kids while his mother kept the flame burning to insure a continuous flow of their street shit.
“Worse thing my daughter ever did was marry a creep like you,” she said, clenching her hoary fist and thrusting it toward Kyle’s face.
Before it could reach its target, a dark figure wedged himself between the two combatants.
“Get out of my way before I kick your big dumb ass!” spit Cindy’s mother to the hulking stranger.
Her threat earned her a hard shove that landed her in the arms of her startled son.
“Hey, you can’t do that to my Mom!” blurted Jason, attempting to keep his mother on her feet.
“Leave the old bag alone,” said Kyle.
“You sticking up for my Mom? Shit, you killed her,” said Cindy.
“I had a good reason to harm her. This guy, or whatever it is, doesn’t.”
“Oh, that’s very noble of you. You stab us all to death, and now you’re my Mom’s protector? What a frigging hypocrite.”
“You all tried to poison me because I was going to turn you in to the cops for peddling your dope to minors.”
“So why didn’t you just do that? You didn’t have to kill us.”
“Oh, you think you deserved better? You got the justice you deserved.”
“Looks like you got the justice you deserved, too.”
“I rid the world of scum and then did myself in. Wasn’t going to do prison time for what was basically a humane act.”
“Humane? You son of a bitch!” growled Jason, starting to move toward Kyle but blocked by the thick arms of the mysterious enforcer. “You don’t think you’re scum, too? You’re a murderer . . . a homicidal maniac. We just sold people stuff to make them feel good. Now look at us.”
“Hey, that’s right. We’re dead,” said Cindy, suddenly taking note of her surroundings. “What’s this place?”
“Eternity . . . your eternity,” answered the enigmatic creature, whose breath smelled of sulfur.
“What do you mean, our eternity?”
“This is Hell. Designer Hell. Niche Hell. Tailor Made Hell. Your Hell, especially created to give you folks exactly what you deserve… each other.”
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: Sometimes both sides get what they deserve… even if they don't think so.
_____________________________________________________________________
Hell isn’t other people. Hell is yourself. – Ludwig Wittgenstein
“I deserve better than this . . . goddammit!” growled Kyle Lyman, who’d just killed himself after murdering his ex-wife and brother in-law.
“No way, you bastard!” screamed his dead ex-wife, Cindy, dabbing at her still oozing mortal wound.
“You deserve worse than we got, you prick!” added Cindy’s brother, Jason.
Jason had been a druggy punk who’d sold crack to kids while his mother kept the flame burning to insure a continuous flow of their street shit.
“Worse thing my daughter ever did was marry a creep like you,” she said, clenching her hoary fist and thrusting it toward Kyle’s face.
Before it could reach its target, a dark figure wedged himself between the two combatants.
“Get out of my way before I kick your big dumb ass!” spit Cindy’s mother to the hulking stranger.
Her threat earned her a hard shove that landed her in the arms of her startled son.
“Hey, you can’t do that to my Mom!” blurted Jason, attempting to keep his mother on her feet.
“Leave the old bag alone,” said Kyle.
“You sticking up for my Mom? Shit, you killed her,” said Cindy.
“I had a good reason to harm her. This guy, or whatever it is, doesn’t.”
“Oh, that’s very noble of you. You stab us all to death, and now you’re my Mom’s protector? What a frigging hypocrite.”
“You all tried to poison me because I was going to turn you in to the cops for peddling your dope to minors.”
“So why didn’t you just do that? You didn’t have to kill us.”
“Oh, you think you deserved better? You got the justice you deserved.”
“Looks like you got the justice you deserved, too.”
“I rid the world of scum and then did myself in. Wasn’t going to do prison time for what was basically a humane act.”
“Humane? You son of a bitch!” growled Jason, starting to move toward Kyle but blocked by the thick arms of the mysterious enforcer. “You don’t think you’re scum, too? You’re a murderer . . . a homicidal maniac. We just sold people stuff to make them feel good. Now look at us.”
“Hey, that’s right. We’re dead,” said Cindy, suddenly taking note of her surroundings. “What’s this place?”
“Eternity . . . your eternity,” answered the enigmatic creature, whose breath smelled of sulfur.
“What do you mean, our eternity?”
“This is Hell. Designer Hell. Niche Hell. Tailor Made Hell. Your Hell, especially created to give you folks exactly what you deserve… each other.”
About the Author
Originally from Albany, New York, Michael C. Keith has paternal family roots stretching back to Clan Keith of Caithness and Aberdeenshire. A leading scholar in electronic media in the United States, he is the author of over 20 books on electronic media, as well as a memoir and three books of fiction. Much more about Michael and his publications can be found on his website: http://www.michaelckeith.com