Bad Hurt, Said Sammy
When he came to the next day his Sammys skin hurt bad, real bad. And some of it was missing. Struggling to his feet Sammy walked down to the edge of a reflective, stagnant puddle. In it’s reflection he could see that the dogs had done him bad in the face. An ear was missing, and part of his cheek had been nibbled.He assumed that his tender, quivering flesh had been a nice snack for them since he was missing so much of it. His belly rumbled. He hadn’t eaten in a big long time and the slab of meat he had hung up above was being swarmed with flies. Not wanting to get caught in a maggot rain he walked away from his only source of food. As he walked down the road, kicking a can as worthless as himself he thought about how he had gotten here. He wished life hadn’t turned out this way. Maybe if his parents hadn’t found that hamster that he had smashed with a brick under my bed they wouldn’t have slept with their assistants and they would all be one big happy. But that wasnt the world he lived in. As he walked he realized he was making a big mess with all the blood he was leaking. To the uncaring world he shouted, “IT HURTS ME REAL NOT GOOD! I DONT LIKE THIS AT ALL!!!”
At the intersection Sammy weighed his options. He needed a big adults help or all this blood loss would do him not much good. There was only one thing to do...A CRIME! A big one! Sammy limped over to a store window. In big yellow letters it read, “Bullet Guns! Come get one now to save your children from the russians and emigrants that took my dads job!” Sammy punched straight into the glass. It shattered in a thousand droplets of shining crystalline shards, each reflecting like a diamond under showroom lights. “Now I have a weapon to get fixed up real solid.” Passing on a long blaster gun he grabbed a real mean looking shard of the glass. It made his hands bleed but all he could feel was the rush of crime. He didn’t like that he liked to hurt himself or other people but it had just been happening more and more since his parent’s divorce. If they could see him now they would know just how bad that had done him!
He went down the street leaking even more ketchup to Doctor Phil’s. When Sammy kicked in the door Doctor Phil was writing down doctor things on a big paper roll. He had medicine shots in a bandoleer around his belt. Doctor Phil normally would be able to beat him up real bad but this time Sammy was ready for him so he couldn’t cut off any more of his foreskin, the mean man. He put the jagged glass up to Doctor Phil’s spine. “Listen here Phillip. I need you to fix what these dogs that bit me under the bridge after I tried to hang myself did to me. Also drugs! Gimme the ones that make me sleep that dad takes when playing with his bullet gun with a bottle of whiskey. I want them in my stomach to take away my pains.”
Doctor Phillip looking sad nodded. He’d seen Sammy like this before but never this bad. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. What a bad boy Sammy had become. He had always been a good boy that played Suikoden and drank brown fizzy water that made him fat. Now he was all mess up and messed up bad at that. He put the needle in Sammys vein after giving him some round no pain pills. Just like the brown stuff it made him drowsy just like the sweet sweet china white he loved so much. Maybe it was the blood loss or the good drugs running in his veins like a thousand white Appaloosas upon the great plains but for once he couldn’t remember that he couldn’t forgive himself. It was a good feeling even if Doctor Phil was rubbing his hands and licking his lips as he faded into the darkness. It developed him like his parents arms used too.