Day 293 – Opportunities – Short Story 

Ten grand, seventeen years of my life, all nutted down to ten grand, that’s what they paid me when THEY decided it was time for me to move on. SEVENTEEN FUCKING YEARS of my life I gave them, help them build their little fucking empire, my blood, my sweat, kids birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, holidays, everything I gave to them, and now I’m left with ten MEASLY grand and nothing else?

My wife left me after eight years of putting up with my work habits, we tried to make it work, but, THEY needed me, THEY couldn’t make things happen without me, and now, THEY tell me it’s over, BULLSHIT IT’S OVER!

Every fucking skeleton, every fucking thing they’ve hid over the years is coming out, every fucking bad decision, every fucking fuck up, all of it, on national TV no less. Those fucks think they can just throw me away like I’m nothing! Like I didn’t contribute anything to their empire! Well they’re wrong, I’m going to make them regret this one, I’m going to make their lives worth nothing, bring their empire to the ground, and then, when it’s all over, I’ll take my measly ten grand and offer to buy them out, take their tired, dying business, and let them walk away with what they gave me.

Yeah, it’s going to be fucking awesome, once the news crew gets here, I’m going to spill everything, and then these fucks will know who is really the boss, and I won’t need this gun to show them that.

Published by

Matthew Tonks

People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time and dream of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.” So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness.

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