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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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"Miss Adams and the Granted Permissions"
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The time was 8.59 in the morning, and she was late for work. A quick
breakfast, an even quicker shower and then she had to rush. But just as
she was about to touch the handle and leave her little apartment, someone
rang on her door bell. She sighed and opened the door.
"Miss Adams!" the little man saluted her. He wore a grey suit and in his
hand he had a little briefcase. Behind him stood another man, wearing the
same type of clothes and smiling like a lunatic.
"Yes, how pleased to meet you, who-ever-you-are," said (Miss) Jessica
Adams, "but I'm in a quite of a hurry right now..."
"Ah, but I have wonderful news for you!" said the little man.
"Wonderful news?"
The little man balanced his suitcase on the top of his right leg, opened
it, and brought up a paper. He looked up, while fumbling with a pen, and
said: "Oh, you really gonna like this, really, really gonna..."
"I sure hope so. I'm really, really late for work..."
"Work?" the little man asked, looking quite surprised.
"Yes. Work."
"How strange. Thought people of your kind didn't go to work. Anyway..."
He began to read from the paper, with a very formal voice: "The State has
today (there's a date here too, Miss Adams, but I guess you know which date
it's today) granted Miss Jessica Adams the permission to fulfil that desire
she expressed in her application form (A435). If she is not able to fulfil
that desire she expressed in her application form (A435), The State will
arrange all the help needed for fulfilling that desire she expressed in her
application form (A435)."
The little man looked at her, his eyes wide open and a huge smile on his
face. Jessica looked at the little man, completely confused.
"Application form?" she asked.
"A435."
"Granted?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Desire?"
"Suicide."
"What!?" she screamed. The little man almost fell into the arms of the
man behind him. She was about to shut the door and forget about the
encounter with the little man, but she knew that she had to find out what
was going on.
"Listen," she said after she had calmed down, "I'm not in the mood for
a suicide. And I've never been."
"Oh, yes you have. Five years ago, you sent this application form to..."
"Five years ago!? Five years!"
"The State works slowly, but effectively."
She had a flashback. Sitting in a empty bar, feeling low since she had
been unfaithful to her husband, drinking bad whiskey, crying, feeling sad
because he had left her, signing some paper, giving it to some man that
resembled her of a rock-n-roll priest, going home, waking up, feeling better
(if one does not count the hangover), forgetting it all; end of flashback.
"Alrighty then, I sent you, uh, The State, whoever, a paper five years
ago, but I've changed my mind. I wanna live, okay?"
The little man raised his hand.
"Perhaps this will change your mind!" he said and snapped his fingers.
The other man, still smiling, stepped forward and opened up a briefcase in
front of her face.
"A fine set of tools, don't you say?" said the little man.
She looked into the briefcase. It contained one pistol, one revolver, a
long rope, one injection needle, a hammer and a nail, one dynamite stick
(and a match box), pills, some strange white powder, car keys, subway
tickets, a long hose and a box with two cables coming out of it ("Harry's
Portable Electrocution Chair").
"Thanks, but no thanks."
"But! I can assure you, these are the best available..."
She shut the door. Looking through the little peep hole, she saw the man
walk away with his companion and the briefcases.
"Thank God..." she mumbled and took a deep breath. She was about to leave
the apartment for work, when the door bell rang again. Violently, she opened
the door.
"Didn't I just say that I didn't want..."
Outside the door stood two other men. They also wore grey suits, big
smiles and suitcases.
"Miss Adams!" one of them saluted her.
"What it is now?"
The man who had saluted her snapped his fingers. The other man opened
up his suitcase. It contained one pistol, one revolver, etcetera.
"Your ex-husband (Pete Adams) has been granted permission to fulfil his
desire, that he expressed in his application form, five years ago. However,
since he's unavailable today, he will not be able to fulfil his desire by
himself. So The State will do it for him."
"Let me guess: he has been granted the permission to commit suicide? By
the way, what has that got to do with me?"
The man laughed and shook his head.
"No, no, Miss Adams. Not suicide. Homicide."
gnn
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