The Commencement Of My Death
Six O'Clock Metal
It was a dead six O'clock a.m. and I had just woken up from a crazy party the night before, realizing what time it was I decided to get myself up. As I walked around my bedroom I remembered that there was a fight occurring in the living room right before I passed out on the floor. Then it hit me, how did I end up in the bedroom? As well as the question, what the hell was I doing in the bedroom?
As the thought was configuring in my brain I heard a slight melancholy but yet preternatural moan from under the bed. At first, it frightened me but then I decided to see who or what was under my bed. As I got low, I meticulously lifted the fabric that was covering the gap between my bed and the nauseatingly dirty carpet, and then it hit me. I had forgotten that everyone was really intoxicated from the warm alcohol that I was saving in my basement for just the occasion, and apparently some of my friends were under my bed but the reason why 3 of my friends from the party were under my bed still irritated me and why wasn't I under my bed for that matter? Why was I on the floor by the closet?
I didn't want to get a headache from thinking about it too much and for some reason I didn't take consideration of waking them up or seeing if they were okay at all. I just walked out of the room and went into the kitchen to get some breakfast but when I opened the fridge I nearly evacuated my bowels when I saw what was in the pickle jar on the top rack.
There was a hand in the pickle jar! I panic-ed, "What the hell, Why the fuck is there a hand in the pickle jar? Everyone, Get the fuck in here now!" I screamed with tears of fear in my eyes. Then I heard a light but disturbing chuckle from the bathroom. I couldn't tell who it was but someone was walking dreadfully towards me like as if they were undead or something. The reason why I couldn't identify them was because all the lights were off and the blinds were closed.
Then I could see that four of my friends besides the ones under my bed were laughing at me horrendously as if they were going to die of laughter. Completely blank mind-ed I screamed at them for laughing at me, "You think this is a joke? There is a hand in my pickle jar! Why the fuck is there a hand in the pickle jar?" I screamed once more.
"Dude, its fake." my friend Jerry said as he started coughing from laughing so hard.
"Aye dude, we were just pulling your leg. It’s not a real hand. In fact its actually a rubber glove that we had stuffed pickles in as a joke because we knew that it would scare the living shit out of you." replied from my brother.
I was about to explode of frustration but then the phone rang, curiously we all stopped to turn to it with discomfort. My brother picked it up.
"Hello, Its for you", he said unpleasantly.
"Well, who is it?” I asked.
"You'll soon find out, he replied.
He handed me the phone and as I put it up to my ear, I felt a cold chill go down my back for some odd reason. It was as if I was talking to Satan himself. The reason why it was so dramatic was because of the fact that I had already guessed who it was from the facial expression and body language I had received from my brother, but the thing that really made me so sure of myself was from the fact that everyone looking at me gave me the impression that they were going to throw up from the tension because they too as well as I, knew who was calling for me.
"Hello, this is Draco Estahbon, who may I ask is calling?" I said with a quite yet maniacal voice as if I was so out of my mind scared that I had found a neurotically strange confidence out of the situation and pressure of the moment.
An indescribable and yet seriously fucked up confident voice replied, "This is your father speaking", and then my heart stopped....
As the thought was configuring in my brain I heard a slight melancholy but yet preternatural moan from under the bed. At first, it frightened me but then I decided to see who or what was under my bed. As I got low, I meticulously lifted the fabric that was covering the gap between my bed and the nauseatingly dirty carpet, and then it hit me. I had forgotten that everyone was really intoxicated from the warm alcohol that I was saving in my basement for just the occasion, and apparently some of my friends were under my bed but the reason why 3 of my friends from the party were under my bed still irritated me and why wasn't I under my bed for that matter? Why was I on the floor by the closet?
I didn't want to get a headache from thinking about it too much and for some reason I didn't take consideration of waking them up or seeing if they were okay at all. I just walked out of the room and went into the kitchen to get some breakfast but when I opened the fridge I nearly evacuated my bowels when I saw what was in the pickle jar on the top rack.
There was a hand in the pickle jar! I panic-ed, "What the hell, Why the fuck is there a hand in the pickle jar? Everyone, Get the fuck in here now!" I screamed with tears of fear in my eyes. Then I heard a light but disturbing chuckle from the bathroom. I couldn't tell who it was but someone was walking dreadfully towards me like as if they were undead or something. The reason why I couldn't identify them was because all the lights were off and the blinds were closed.
Then I could see that four of my friends besides the ones under my bed were laughing at me horrendously as if they were going to die of laughter. Completely blank mind-ed I screamed at them for laughing at me, "You think this is a joke? There is a hand in my pickle jar! Why the fuck is there a hand in the pickle jar?" I screamed once more.
"Dude, its fake." my friend Jerry said as he started coughing from laughing so hard.
"Aye dude, we were just pulling your leg. It’s not a real hand. In fact its actually a rubber glove that we had stuffed pickles in as a joke because we knew that it would scare the living shit out of you." replied from my brother.
I was about to explode of frustration but then the phone rang, curiously we all stopped to turn to it with discomfort. My brother picked it up.
"Hello, Its for you", he said unpleasantly.
"Well, who is it?” I asked.
"You'll soon find out, he replied.
He handed me the phone and as I put it up to my ear, I felt a cold chill go down my back for some odd reason. It was as if I was talking to Satan himself. The reason why it was so dramatic was because of the fact that I had already guessed who it was from the facial expression and body language I had received from my brother, but the thing that really made me so sure of myself was from the fact that everyone looking at me gave me the impression that they were going to throw up from the tension because they too as well as I, knew who was calling for me.
"Hello, this is Draco Estahbon, who may I ask is calling?" I said with a quite yet maniacal voice as if I was so out of my mind scared that I had found a neurotically strange confidence out of the situation and pressure of the moment.
An indescribable and yet seriously fucked up confident voice replied, "This is your father speaking", and then my heart stopped....