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The story (standard:Suspense, 1058 words)
Author: darkcityAdded: Apr 09 2003Views/Reads: 3384/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Everyone gets their vengeance.



It was a busy and stressful day for me in downtown Chicago. My name is
Chris Brown. I'm a sales representative for a major corporation located 
in downtown Chicago. I enjoy my job, especially the free health 
insurance and vacations. The only problem is my Mercedes 320 was in the 
shop getting the brakes fixed. For the past three days I've had to ride 
the awful, repulsive bus. The passengers seem to be one step from being 
on America's Most Wanted. I think I was the only one that rode that bus 
with dental care. I don't like to be rude and judge people, but these 
people all looked like criminals. There was this one guy who I could 
tell he was talking about me, because every time he mentioned something 
he would look at me. Like he was planning to rob or murder me. Then I 
finally arrived at my stop at 5th street and Maine. I got off that bus 
so fast I didn't even check to see if I left anything behind. I was 
just relieved to get off alive. The day seemed to go by quickly, 
working from nine to eight. I stayed after finishing some paper work. 
Then when I was finished a co worker gave me a ride home. When I 
arrived at my luxurious and spacious house it was surrounded by at 
least five police cars. I rushed out of the car to see what happened 
and before I could enter my home an officer pulled me to the side and 
told me the dreadful news. My wife was murdered. I didn't even begin to 
think of who could have done this, but how something so horrible like 
this could happen to me. 

My name is Mike Corballa.  I've lived in this city for my whole life. I
know this city like the back of my hand. There are three kinds of 
people. One kind are the people who work there ass off and only make 
ends meat. Then rich people who either are geniuses or never have 
worked a day in their natural born lives and everything they get they 
don't deserve. Then people like me who have made all the wrong choices 
and turned to crime. To me crime is like an instinct and to me there is 
nothing more important. Let me tell you about this one crime I 
committed. There was this one guy that rode the same bus I took in the 
morning. The first time I took a look at this guy, in his three piece 
suit and Gucci shoes I knew he was just another guy that never worked a 
day in his life. This one day I was on the corner trying to bum money 
from people and here comes mister high society. Then as he passes by me 
I ask him if I can get some money, because I haven't eaten for days. 
This guy stops and looks at me and has the nerve to shake his head and 
walk away. He just stiffs me. I was fed up with these “business men” 
who can't even spare a couple dollars, chump change, to unfortunate men 
like me. Then I begin to follow this guy, never to his home though I 
didn't want him to get suspicious. When he was riding the bus this one 
day he had the feeling that I had my eye on him. The minute the bus 
reaches his stop he takes off like someone just yelled immigration. 
What he didn't notice is he left a notebook behind containing files, 
clients' numbers, and a business card with his home address. Then it 
comes to me, I should make this guy understand never to take anything 
for granted, because once it's gone it's never coming back. I go to his 
luxurious house in the hills, where his gorgeous wife was sitting on 
their thousand dollar leather couch reading some Danielle Steel crap. I 
climb up to the second floor and break the window, the alarm didn't go 
off. Obviously she never experienced a robbery before and didn't hear 
me break in because she was all the way downstairs. Let me tell you 
something right now. My intentions of that night were trying to steal 
something valuable, not murder his wife. Well, when I was going through 
their bedroom, she decides to come up and take a shower. I panic. I 
have no idea what to do, so I think like a criminal. I take the garbage 
bag I had and covered her face over it, until she suffocated. Then I 
quickly got the hell out of there. Here's the funny part, I felt I had 
some luck that night so I tried robbing a convenient store. Of course I 
didn't have luck the second time around and I got into a high speed 
chase and crashed into a concrete wall going 100 mph. I wake up three 
days later, surrounded by police. They never found out that I murdered 
that woman. They were arresting me for robbery on the convenient store 
and other charges I had against me. I did my time for five years. Then 
received parole and became a regular citizen again. The only thing is, 
I can't remember what the man looked like, but I bet he was pissed when 
he saw his wife. I can almost imagine the look on his face. Funny 
story, don't you think? 

Mike begins to laugh at the same story he's told in and out of bars,
truck stops, and restaurants, but what he doesn't recognize is the man 
he told the story to was Chris Brown the man who was married to the 
woman he killed. Chris just stares at Mike with a cold glare, waiting 
for him to finish laughing. Then Chris pays for the drinks and offers 
to give Mike a ride home, but Chris decides to go for a joy ride to the 
outskirts of town, far out from anywhere. He takes a nine millimeter 
pistol out of his jacket pocket and unloads the rounds on Mike 
Corballa's heartless body. Then calmly leaves the scene of the crime. 
Chris Brown doesn't care if he gets caught, that's not what he was 
thinking about. He's just a normal guy who wanted his vengeance. 


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