When were gummy bears invented?

Sitting here with a piece of cold steel to my head, the first thoughts for a long while came to my mind: "When were gummy bears invented?".

I was sitting on the curb down on the street I had grown up on as a child. The night was chilly and the angel's piss was whipping the side of my unshaven mug. I got up and started walking towards my decrepit house. I had a hard on for revenge, and tonight was the perfect night to deliver. His name was unimportant. it was a destipicle name though. A haunting name. A name fit for a thief. A thief who took away my happiness. My home. My Annie. This would be his last day to breath in the shit we call oxygen in this god-forsaken polluted shithole. I got to the front porch, and cocked the revolver back. It clanged with the deafening roar of a barrel of C4 exploding in my brain. I walked up the steps towards the door, creaking from the deafening weight of my sins. Right on cue, the thunder cracked as I turned the knob of the french door. It squealed open like a pig on BarBQue night. He must be expecting me. It made me smile to think he might be hiding in there, all alone, probably under his bed as we both once did as children. I stepped in and memories came flushing back into me, happy memories of me and my sister running around in the kitchen table, sad memories of her screaming in pain on nights much like this one, joyous memories of my father beating the living shit out of the nameless one i was going to murder on this fine night. It didn't matter. All that happend a long time ago. All that remains is the memories. I had to stop thinking. I should have taken my medication. Memories are murder.

I knew where he was. I gripped the railing of the stairs and walked up it, the stench of pot pourri forcing itself into my nostrils, enwrapping my brain, squeezing out memories of the past. "Concentrate" I whispered to myself. After tonight, I would be free from the pain, the humiliation, the misery. Misery is a funny thing, something you should be able to thunderously laugh about, but all that comes out is a whimper that a puppy might do on Christmas morning when you first take him out of the box which your idiot parents forgot to pierce air holes in. Sadness is a nuclear bomb that ruptures in your body and it's cruel enough not to kill you, but will spread it's toxic waste everywhere and poison you until it's half life expires, only to boil again when something as simplistic as a smell will reanimate the walking dead tearing yourself apart all over again. Memories are shit.

Here i was, the extinguisher of my memories was behind this door. The plan was simple. I was to open the door, shoot him, and walk away from my sorrows. I would not talk. Open, shoot, walk. God I hoped he shot me first. I lifted the handle and walked in, and their he was. Sitting on the dusty old bed, looking out towards the swirling storm, looking right at my rage. "Hello brother." I raised the weapon of my demise, my index finger on the trigger, pulling it in my mind. "VERMIN!" I shouted. Zeus heard me and lit the room with his lightning bolt. The golden locks on Annie's favorite doll flashed in my brothers arms. "Are you here to kill me?" i chose not to respond. In what seemed like slow motion, his shadow turned around towards me and he yelled "ANSWER ME !". He got up, the doll hitting the floor, innocence shattered once more. He turned around and stood there, a frozen statue, heart as cold as ice, posture harder than granite. In his hand was a pistol, which was now in his outstretched hand, pointed at me. So much for the 'open, shoot, walk' plan.

I raised my gun and it whispered my name as it flew through the air and hit me hard in the chest. The pain was the best thing I've ever felt, everything i deserved for all of my sins I had commited myself too throughout my life.

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I wrote this on January 12th, 2007. I've always wanted to finish it. Maybe one day i will.