Penultimate

Some people get overly ambitious. Me? I like to keep my goals within the realm of the realistic. I don’t want fame, or to rule the world, or even one-hundred thousand dollars. All those things would be nice, but I just want two things out of life.

I don’t want you to admit what you’ve done...not to me and not to anyone one of the dozens of other people whose lives that you have ruined. I don’t want you to pay any of your ill-gotten gains back or donate them to the hospital and therapy bills of your victims. Why, you can even give the rape-survivor fund a rest.

I don’t want you incriminate yourself by putting flowers on the graves of those that you put six feet under nor would I want you to go to the various other sites and apologize to those who are “missing.” Don’t waste your money on champagne for your defense attorney who found loophole, upon loophole. He’s done enough celebrating for a lifetime...quite possibly even enough for the duration of all the lives that you’ve ended.

Don’t treat your family to dinner, like they have any business getting you back, when so many other families have to go without their loved ones...just like the family of my late girlfriend.

Like I said, I don’t want fame, or to rule the world, or even one-hundred thousand dollars. All those things would be nice, but all I really want to say is “Mike? This is for Laura.” Then the very last thing I want you to hear is my gun shooting you three times.