Here I stand blindfolded against against a wall of pretty words like, "oh, when my love filled reality rivals even dreams!" "try hard and you'll succeed!" and "God is Great!" I am one, Nancy, Negative, up against the firing squad. "But you've got the wrong person entirely! I'm not Nancy! I'm not even a woman!" When the others kissed the wall, i refused. I have no attraction to you wall. They made us dig trenches. Head Hancho decided against the crucifixion. That's ok, cause Jesus has some pretty big shoes to fill. They wanted to burn me at the stake but needed a more grandiose spectacle for my tender ass. They talked for years. Now i have a large gray beard (strange for a woman you would think). They decided it would be best to kill me before I died, the subtitles broadcasting my headline transcontinental.
We interrupt this program to tell you of the death of one bad, bad person. That is all. We now return you to your program.
(music playing)
John: "Veronica, I love you! Kiss me!"
Veronica: "No John. I...just can't!"
(door opens to reveal the witchdoctor from Nollywood videos, Hot Money, 1, 2, and 3! He turns them both into vultures and then sacrifices a goat.)
So after decades of drawn out goodbyes, here comes the "ready aim fire." You can play it over and over in your head when you imagine your own execution. I know from movies that this precedes the shooting. Pavlov's dog, I salivate on the verge of execution. Just to tickle my fancy, I imagine their shadows, long strips of bacon drawn over the polished silver knife of a wall. And next they will scramble the eggs. Too heavy a breakfast for me.
