Desperate

The diner was called Joe's Diner and boy, did I hate it. It was a dark, smelly little diner and was so damned dark with a little bit of blazing sun shining through the gaps of the closed and torn, old blinds. Sometimes the darkness made for a change here in the sunny country of Mexico but it was times like that day, two days ago where you'd rather be burning your ass off rather than sit in a freezing cold leather chair.
But do you know what's really annoying about Joe's Diner? Nothing ever Goddamn changes. The same loners and low-life's like myself come in at about lunchtime and spend the rest of their miserable day there, smoking and drinking beer, sometimes coffee. Joe's never changed the two years dead plant by the door that stinks of cigarettes like the rest of the damned air there. It's like a Goddamned fog indoors if you ask me. But anyways, there's more of the same old shit. There's the old and yellow blinds I mentioned, the worn out leather seats and of course the same old, grumpy Joe. If you think you've met the most boring and miserable person then you haven't met “Old Joe McDonald”. He's a moron to every single one of us, he just doesn't care.
Anyone ever seen that film Pulp Fiction? Well, if you haven't let me tell you that it's a great movie to start with and that you should go see it. Anyway, at this one scene a couple are sitting in a diner, one like Joe's and after one of the weirdest conversations ever, they get up with revolvers and demand some cash. And that's exactly what I did. I got up from my usual seat in the corner of the smoky diner and pointed a .45 handgun at Joe's head and when he wouldn't give me the cash I needed for my niece's operation I pulled the trigger and aimed the gun at his wife, Tricia. I believe it was Franklin Jones who said “You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.” Kinda shows you how much I had for Joe.

I hated him, as much as I hated those doctors in the hospital who told me if I didn't get enough money for an operation, my beautiful little niece, Robin was gonna die. I was shocked and a bit relieved when I shot “Old Joe” and now I'm a bit pissed to find that the old man's still alive. 'Least that's what the guards in this small town prison are telling me anyways.

You see, what happened next was some cop came in to Joe's Diner at the wrong time. He walked right in and when he saw me with that .45 he drew a revolver and I dropped my gun in instant. He put me against the door and called for back-up and an ambulance.

For a moment I was happy when I saw them put Joe's old body into that ambulance. He looked dead and boy, should he have stayed dead. Now they're telling me he's crippled, dunno what I did to him but that's it. He'll never work in that diner again.

But you know what I'm happy of the most? I think I really finally changed Joe's Diner, I really think I did. The guys there will be shocked when they see me but I'll walk in like I've been there my entire life. Like I didn't do a thing wrong.

But now my life's shattered around me today. My wife's called for a divorce and it turns out my brother's sent some money over from Australia for Robin's operation. Today the guards told me they were talking to her doctors. She's gonna be fine. I tried to do the right thing by getting some money, I really did. Just turns out that I'm one very unlucky guy who had to go and screw it up. I haven't been told how long I'll be facing in prison. For shooting Joe I think it'll be a couple of years alright. Maybe by the time I'm out I'll find my wife gone. Who knows, maybe by the time I'm out a full grown Robin will be waiting for me with open arms. Robin's five years old. I couldn't live with her dead. I don't have any kids myself but I'll tell you now, I'd love to. Robin's the only little girl in my family. My only real daughter.

I'd do it again if I had to. Life without one kid in your life is a life not living for if you ask me. Kinda shows you how desperate people like me can be.

THE END

“If we don't stand up for children, then we don't stand for much.” Marian Wright Edelman