Mercy kill


From the hand of the writer Bogdan, we return to the path of short stories – j re crivello (editor)

by Bogdan Dragos

When the enemy strikes keep your gun close to you. That worked during the war, but the war was all those years ago and the saying didn’t apply today.

Today it was more like when depression strikes keep your ice cream at hand. He got into his slippers and went into the kitchen to grab a spoon for his ice cream. Living on the ground floor of an apartment building from the suburbs gives a man quite the sights to see at times. He peeked out the window and saw a man or child, couldn’t tell what the hell he was, only that he was very fat and he held a big silvery spoon in one hand and a pigeon in the other, and crushed the pigeon’s twig-like feet with the edge of the spoon.

“What the fuck?” he said, dropped the ice cream spoon from his hand, hurried to open the window and shouted, “Hey, you sick fuck! What the…?”

The fat kid or man or whatever he was dropped the spoon and the pigeon, and ran along the building and disappeared behind the corner.

“Jesus Christ!”

He got out through the window, looked around, looked down at the maimed pigeon, bent down to it, and observed that it wasn’t only its feet that were messed up. Poor thing was missing the lower part of its beak and had white string passed with needle through its wings.

“Jesus Christ!” he said.

Just like that time back in the war with One-Eared Mike… One Eared Mike was surely thanking him from heaven every day… Surely… Surely.

He watched the pigeon, rose his foot, stepped with his slipper on the poor thing’s head, whirled

“Jesus Christ!” he said. “If reincarnation is really a thing… One Eared Mike… You’re welcome again, my friend… If reincarnation is real… And now, for your killer…”

He started walking by the wall and disappeared around the corner. The ice cream was melting on the coffee table before the TV.

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