Marcus staggered over to an open window, studied the people fourteen stories below him, and spat out the window. “We could watch the sun rise together,” he sang while quickly rolling the leaf and taking a long swallow of whiskey. “Laughing as it shines,” Marcus sang as he lit the blunt while pulling out a razor blade and a 357 magnum revolver from the drawer. “Could you be mine,” he sang as he inhaled the blunt, exhaled the smoke, and took a long swallow of whiskey. Tears began to flow from Marcus’ bright bronze eyes as if they were blood pouring from the flesh of a deeply cut wound. “Could you be mine,” sang Marcus as he lifted the razor and dug it deep into his left wrist and drove it halfway up his forearm. Marcus took a long pull from the blunt and threw it out of the window as he pushed the window sill all the way up. Marcus sat backwards on the edge of the sill, leaned out of the window, raised the revolver to the right side of his temple, and pulled the trigger. A flock of pigeons rapidly flew from the top of the high rise building. As Marcus’ lifeless body fell to the ground, his energetic soul soared toward the core of the burning star, and plummeted to the bottomless pits of Hell. The Devil dismounted from the rear of a dark-skinned woman with fiery red eyes, closed his eyes, and saw five children dancing around Marcus’ lifeless body. The Devil smiled as he heard the horrific screams of Marcus Wright race beyond the ninth level of Hell, and drool fell from his mouth as he watched a child remove the gun from Marcus’ hand and aim it at the other children. Four shots were fired from the gun and five lifeless bodies now lay on the ground. Sirens could be heard in the distance, and people raced to see the horror. Four paramedics and ten firemen arrived at the scene, and several news media vans and twelve police cars followed shortly after.
Sitting at the dinner table are the Grants: Harold: the father, a workaholic, an alcoholic, and a compulsive gambler, Yvonne: the beautician, loving wife and mother, Jewel: the straight A ninth grade student, Travis: the high school senior drama major and Trevor Grant: identical twin and underground rap artist.
“Harold, do you mind putting the news paper down for one minute so that you may say grace and bless the table?” Yvonne asked as she placed her hands together, closed her eyes, and lowered her head. “Damn, some crazy fool went and killed himself right around the corner at the old folks’
