Interlude

Date: 2015-10-07; view: 528.

Leroy took the bucket and payed the cashier. He never had any problems with money. He never had any problems with anything at all. Leroy was a happy man, probably happier than[1] anyone else in the world. All due to the fact that he was confident that whatever happened, he would still be alive, even more alive than you – and just as alive as I am.

Oh, did I introduce myself too early? Snap. Didn't intend to do it. Let's just pretend it never happened, okay?

Anyway, Leroy payed for the bucket and left the restaurant. Three police cars and six policemen were there to greet him, all (except the cars) with guns pointed at his direction.

- Drop the bucket and raise your hands into the air! - yelled one of the policemen.

- Oh, come on guys, I just bought it! Want some? No? Okay.

Leroy took a wing out of the bucket and put it into his mouth.

- Mmph. Delicious. - he mumbled while chewing on the wing.

- I repeat, drop the bucket and raise your hands into the air!

- Fellas, do we have to do this?

- This is your last warning. Drop the bucket, raise your hands into the air or we'll shoot!

- Not gonna happen. I like my hands like my KFC - INSIDE the bucket, not DROPPING it. So, if you don't mind, I'll get going. My friends are waiting for me, and I ain't Leroy Jenkinson if I don't bring them the chicken. You hear me? I ain't Leeeeroooy...

Just as Leroy was about to make a step towards the cops, several shots were fired. One bullet pierced Leroy's arm. The other one went deep into his belly and got stuck in the spine. The third bullet split off a large portion of his chin and ricocheted into one of the cars. The fourth and fifth bullets missed. Well, not really. Quite spectacularly, they hit each other mid-air. The sixth bullet went straight into the KFC bucket, tearing it to pieces.

Leroy fell on the ground, laughing with his dismembered mouth. Everything was going according to the plan. What a spectacular death! Just the one he was thinking about. So he fell on the ground, chicken wings falling all around him like a heavy rain, in a real downpour, but with chicken wings instead of water. Marvelous. And then something hit him. Metaphorically, not physically – chicken wings kept hitting him physically. He realized that there was yet a way he could improve his death. Chicken wings are good, he thought. But there was yet something better than that: bacon. He could have bacon falling all over him. But it was already too late.

- Well... At least I've got chicken wings, - croaked Leroy, blood gulping out of his mouth.

And these were last words of Leroy Jenkinson. May his soul find peace in the other life.