Protocol

"How did you get here?"

"I jimmied the lock, shunted the elevator, came in while someone was going
out, and forged my signature. Aren't you truly amazed at my genius and
mastermind?"

"No. Let me give you a swift kick in the britches out the window. Then you
can learn how to make it back up here the hard way, like I did."

"But I'm a pretty parasite. Don't you want me?"

"Even ticks drop off after they have drunk their fill. You are no
different. If you were honest you'd have come to my office through
established protocol. No go!" [boots her out the window]

[In the ER] "Bring me two units. Take her to surgery."

[three years later in group] "And I was a victim of this bloody *** who
kicked me out the window. Everyone told me I was in a car wreck, but I know
that's not what really happened. It was him.... The man I'm in love with
wants nothing to do with me. He's why I got here. He almost killed me
once, and every time I go back it's as if he wants to finish the job. But
I'll be letting him know who's finished."

[before the parole board] "And I realize my mistake, that I shouldn't have
conspired to kill someone. I'm a changed person. I am eager to become a
productive member of society and do the world good."

What should I care she live or die, she who doesn't care if I lived or died?

What care in the world should I have about the roll of the dice, if my own
life or death were as a game of entertainment for her?

But heads she loses, and tails she loses, and when she survives that, her
vanity and iniquity are on display for all to see, and the pointlessness of
every breath she secures, a living hell that makes death a friend for her,
but not an option.

May the glowing fuzzy warmth of hell's fire and brimstone embrace her, and
consume her in pain's torment immortal.



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