From: king_p@breeze.cs.odu.edu (Paul King)
Subject: Loser
Date: 4 May 92 20:55:47 GMT


Ok, Ill try this once more. Apologies to those of you who see the prior post of
this (only half came up, I ddon't know why), I canceled it as soon as
I saw.
---------------------------------------------------

"What is his kind doing here?" thought Miller as he spotted the conservative
light grey suit threading it's way through the burned out cars. Miller stood up,
threw off the newspapers he had been sleeping under, and grabbed his
grubby hat. " Doesn't he know this part of town's not safe?" Miller muttered,
moving quickly over a rusted out VW, watching the stranger's razor cut
perfectly clean black hair, the only part of him visable behind a scorched
'98 Mazda minivan. "Probably out slumming, having the time of his corporate
life," despite never having seen the man Miller already had a deep and personal
hatred going. "Maybe he had a fight with his plump hostess wife," Miller
noted the expensive walking shoes marking the fast pace the stranger was
setting, quite a difference from the rapid barefoot shuffle Miller was using
to feel his way along. " Don't know why he's got those nice shades, Sun
doesn't get to this level." Miller Jumped off the van hew was climbing over,
and hit his head on a metal box labeled Biohazard, and by the time his head was
clear and he had climbed outta the dumpster he was sure he had lost the
stranger, but no, the stranger was talkingto a streetgirl with metal eyes
and shiny red makeup around them. "There's the hurry," Miller crept closer,
but still couldn't hear, " wanted to get his nice clean hands on some dirty
street meat." Miller dug into his jacket pocket, fingered the kinfe, the knife,
thinking of his little sister. The stranger passed something to the girl,
something Miller couldn't see with his welfare cybereys fading out, he
usually didn't run them this long. He had that headache now that he
thought about it. His throuat hurt too, and he remembered his sister,
finding the money in the Mustang she lived in, so much money. The
stranger and the girl laughed, bringing Miller back to now, listening to
the low mumble of whatever they were saying. Miller didn't need to hear
exactly what was being said to know his plans, and didn't need to see them
toebe sure of his own plan. He was saving his eyes to get the stranger alone
and pay the whole corporate world back for his sister. He ran his finger
along the surface of the knife, feeling the cool edge, a faint ridge
he knew without looking. He had ment to clean the blood off the knife
when he found it, in the alley where his sister had been, found. He had
meant to, but now it was all he really had to remember her by. He heard a
popping noise in the direction the voices were coming from, and snapped his
eyes back on, forgetting to set the light level and dazzling himself. Blinking
back tears he found the right level and saw the perfect stranger walking away.
Miller knew if he didn't move now his chance was lost, the streetgirl was
gone, lousy corp probably knifed her. Miller felt a pure rage driving him now.
His vision was strobing with the jarring impact of running, but Miller
had eyes only for the wide grey back of his target. So large, put the knife
right there, just left of center. Everything was coming together, again.

  The stranger turned, saw Miller, and faster than Miller's eyes could resolve
reached into that grey suit, pulled out what Miller knew had to be a gun,
but couldn't see. Millers eyes threw up an image of the stranger's blue tinted
shades as something hit Miller in the center of the chest and the sound of
a gunshot pierced Miller's haze. He tried to see what had hit him, but the
ground was in his way, and he couldn't remember falling. He knew something
had gone wrong, but he couldn't feel his hands to get his knife up. Miller
couldn't figure out what was wrong, but he knew that the stranger wasn't an
accountant, no accountant could move that fast. The last thing he saw was the
streetgirls eyes, with a look that might have been pity, or not.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Please consider any appropriate statements of ownership to be made.
Comments are welcomed at
 king_p@cs.odu.edu