Category : Poems
Sub Category : N/A
There used to be this group of boys,
they grew up playing with guns as toys.
They could always be found by the riverbank, in the woods so dark and dank. They learned the ways that are not legal, and how to avoid bloodhounds and beagles. Their clothes became tattered, and their parents had either left or died. The boys stuck together in order to survive.
Through the years, they all stayed together. Except for Timmy Johnson, who left for a life much better. Time would pass and money was tight. Jobs were few and the boys would often fight. They would pick some pockets for a little cash, run to the store and buy some mash. They built a still out in the woods, brewing moonshine that tasted so good. Never once did they feel they were alone, for the riverbank became their home.
They spent their days getting drunk, always rowdy and stealing stuff. Then one day, Timmy returned. He had grown quite big, muscular with a slight sunburn. But something was different, something amiss. He looked around as if he were pissed. 'Boys, you've got this all wrong. Look around here, you're thinking too small.' He pulled out a jar that had sat on a shelf. Inside it was a plan to get them some wealth. 'I've come back here cuz I wanna help you. Listen close, here's what we gonna do.'
They burst through the doors of the First State Bank. Each one had a mask that covered his face. They brandished their guns and shot off a few rounds. 'If ya don't wanna die, get down on the ground!' They robbed each person, they raided the vault. There was more money than Timmy had thought. They filled up bags with all of the cash, and hurried out the door in a noisy, mad dash. They heard the sirens, here comes the cops! But they'd come to far, they wouldn't be stopped.
As they ran down the street, they were in luck. Sitting at the corner was a '28 Ford truck. The boys piled in the bed of that rusty old truck, as Timmy reached over and fired it up. The truck sped away with the cops in pursuit, the boys started shooting, protecting their loot. A couple quick turns and they raced out of town. Timmy lost the cops, at least for now.
They ditched the truck a few miles up the road, and followed the river, packing their load. Now this was more money than they had ever seen, Timmy knew this and he remained keen.
The boys all celebrated late into the night, drinking moonshine till they began to fight. Who did more work, whose share would be bigger? They fought and argued until one of them pulled the trigger. The boys all pulled out their guns, all of them too drunk to think or to run. Except for Timmy, his back against a tree, a smoking pistol lay by his knee. The shouting grew louder and they all began to shoot. All of it over who got the loot.
The gunfire subsided and Timmy stood up. This had nothing to do with luck. The boys lay dead, their blood soaking the ground. Raindrops began to fall, making the only sound. 'I told you boys, you think too small. This was part of my plan, after all.' Timmy just smiled as he he pushed their bodies into the river. Now he'd be a whole lot richer.
But he missed his footing and slid down the bank. As he stood up, panic set in and his heart sank. The water rose higher as the rain continued to pour. As much as he struggled, he could do no more. The cold, black mud had trapped his legs, he struggled so much and he started to beg. That cold, dark river sucked him down, and in that spot, Timmy drowned. In the end, he gets what he deserves and poetic justice has now been served.