Quote:
Originally posted by Did you just call me Coltrane?
Oh my. I wonder what PLF 2001 would think of this.
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PLF 2001 would be stunned. He would sit back and think of what could be and what had actually happened to him, and he would weep for his future. Then he would pull himself back together and go on a long walk and think about what it means to be a moral being in this world, and what responsibilities he might owe others, including the responsibility to prevent the infliction of Flower 2005 on those others. And he would ponder inevitability.
Then, he would go and purchase the most expensive bottle of scotch in his local liquor store, and he would pour himself a glass, neat. And then another. And another. And he would think of the woman he loved. And the child(ren) that would never be. And he would think of the fun that he had experienced, and the regrets that came with it. And he would take a drink for the women he had hurt, and the friends he had neglected.
Then he would fill a bathtub with water as hot as he could stand it. He would get in, and take a sharp knife and flex his left arm, until the arteries and veins were bulging. He would dig the knife into his flesh along an artery and pull it up his arm, watching the impossibly red blood flow from the wound like it had finally escaped a lifetime of imprisonment. Then he would do the same to his right arm, and lie back.
He would grow woozy, and then be struck with a final pre-death clarity, understanding just how deeply his mother would grieve his death. And suddenly, he would want to take it all back, undo the cutting and the bleeding. But it would be too late. And he would sink unconscious into the bath waters.
