A Happy Feeling

This is a familiar street. I always pass here when going to work. Adorned with a very high wall for the very exclusive subdivision that lay on the other side and empty houses and unfinished buildings. I guess their owners never come home. Lately, I have had trouble getting sleep. It seems that it was due to the insurmountable stress at work. Especially now, with the upcoming promotion that my boss is going to announce. A promotion that would skyrocket one's career. He was going to make one of us his partner. He already announced last week that there are two candidates. Me and Ryan, the rich kid from Dasma Village, coming to work on his Audi S8 wearing his crisp, ironed out, expensive suit. He is after all, an Atenista, he took his MBA at UP and doctorate at some high-end school in the states. I forgot the name of that university, it started with a H. He's always been a jerk with our other co-workers. He would make the janitor clean up again by purposefully spilling his Starbucks coffee on the floor just when the janitor has finished. I always wanted to stick a shoe up his ass but I try to restrain myself from making the thought a reality.

Back on the street, I saw again this odd old guy. Still lying in cartons, his company - a pair of trashcans and an electric post. His tattered clothes are dirty, stained with urine, blood, smog and sperm. I always take time to observe this guy. I don't know. It seems that somehow, looking at this poor bastard makes me happy. I know, because I'm luckier than him.

This guy, is so unbelievably thin. He's almost like a skeleton slash zombie from those cheap horror films. His belly bloated, his arms and legs too weak to make him stand. As always, he was talking to himself, scratching his crotch, flies hovering above him like vultures waiting to swoop down when his time comes. He was holding this burger that some passerby must have given him, and what's on his other hand surprised me the most. A paper bag. A paper bag to disguise the liquor inside that he was drinking. I always wondered where that stench of liquor came from. As he was drinking his alcohol, I felt as if I saw the demon in him. Everything became blurry and slow motioned. I can hear his throat chugging the damned spirit! I can hear the flies every flap of its wings. Stop! I have to breathe.

Then, like adrenaline and Ecstasy combined, I felt this peculiar feeling. I felt excited. What I will do next will change everything. I just noticed, there are no surveillance cameras around this street, the other side covered with high walls, the other with empty spaces. There are no people passing this street at this time. I thought, I could kill this man without anybody knowing, without anybody caring. I would kill this man to relieve my stress and anxiety and to think of it, I'm doing this world good service of ridding it with one of the filthy parasites. I had with me a bottle of champagne and a glass in case I needed to celebrate tonight.

It's already dark now and all the streetlights are broken. I approached the guy and offered him to drink with me, which he gladly agreed upon. After a few glasses, he was already too drunk. He must've been drinking the whole day. When he fell asleep, I got one of his plastic bags and covered his face with it. He awoke in shock, resisted a bit, fought with all the strength he could muster but he was already too weak. Then his hand clutching my collar fell down. His eyes were still open as I removed the plastic from his face. His mouth open and saliva pouring on each side. Poor bastard, he pissed himself.

I left him there. I freshened up, sprayed a lot of perfume and proceeded my walk to work. Only this time, I have a big smile on my face.