Day 364 – Don’t Start What You Can’t Finish – 50 Word Story Expanded

“Sorry little brother, but business, is business,” he says as he pulls the trigger, the blast echoes around Timmy’s head for what seems like an eternity, and he falls to his knees, blood quickly forming a thick, sticky puddle beneath him, as that smiling mother fucker looks down at him.

“Y-Y-You, didn’t need to,” he stammers softly, his words lost within the void inside what was once his head.

“Of course I did Timmy, what other choice did I have? You gave me little, betraying me for that bitch and her friends, we are the perfect beasts, created by mother to rule this world, not act like the sheep who inherited it from her,” he says, as spit flies out of his mouth along with the venomous words.

“B-B-But you didn’t need to really do it, the threat was enough, you didn’t really need to go through with it,” Timmy says softly, his eyes widening as he watches the sea of blood continue to grow beneath him.

“Yeah I did buddy boy, you know full well if I’d just said, oh okay, that’s all right, I’ll let it go, we’re all cool, it would’ve been the beginning of the end, right?”

“B-B-But, how do you know?” He says, looking over to his brother, his face pale, his eyes glazed over, weary.

“Because little brother, since the dawn of fucking time, when man worked out how to get someone else to jerk them off and get away with it, that’s how I know,” he says with a smirk.

“But, that, that do-doesn’t ma-ma-m-m-make any sense.”

“Of course it make sense Timmy, you’d realize that, if half your head wasn’t missing, it’ll sink in, or out, whatever the result,” he stops, looks down at the blood that is now pooling underneath his shoes and back to Timmy. “Awful lot of blood for a small fart isn’t it?” he says, Timmy slowly looks down and turns his head to the side.

“Yeah, it is, you’d think, I’d be dead by now?”

“You’d think, I mean, I’ve killed gods before, normally I’d use a sword, or a bus, never a gun, maybe I need to, ummmm, shoot you again,” he says holding the barrel of the gun to Timmy’s skull. “You ready?”

“I still think you didn’t need to….” another shot rips through his head and he sways from side to side with the impact.

“How’d that one go?”

“I-I-I-It hurt, bu-bu-but, I’m still here,” he replies slowly.

“Mum always told me you were special, old hag was right, wait here, I’ll go find a sword, or a bus, or something,” he says, wandering off, perplexed, searching the ruins of the old building, while Timmy continues to sway from side to side, as the pool of blood grows.




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