Introduction

School is kind of shitty. You go to class and listen to what your professor lectures on. You go back and study the shit he or she talked about. Then you got tests. These fucking tests determine where you will be in a couple years, what your salary will be in a couple of years, and thus your standing in this fucking capitalistic society. Ahh fucking tests.

Yea so I had a fucking bad test that day. I didn’t really study so maybe I shouldn’t bitch about it but damn that was a fucking bad test. I felt shitty so I went to get some alcohol with some friends at a near by pub. Pubs are good. Usually.

So I was sitting there just sipping at my beer, watching the fucking Dodgers getting there asses handed to them by the Red Sox on TV. I don’t care much for baseball. My friends were nearby talking to some chicks from school. They were decent. But too bad they weren’t talking to me. Bitches sometimes come up to me but usually so they can get closer to my friends. Fuck them bitches and fuck them friends.

So as I was blankly staring at the TV I felt a tap on my shoulder. And I turned around. It wasn’t a fucking girl.

He was in a nice black dress shirt this time. His hair was less messier and he was wearing regular jeans.

“You saw me the other night didn’t you?”

I gave Him a puzzled look.

“Remember me? You saw me putting up those flyers.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. It was like 2 days ago right? Really late at night”
“Yeah. That’s me. My name is Roger Woo. Nice to meet you.”

He handed me a business card. It said Suicide Helper on top of it.
I took the card and looked at him. He gave me a friendly smile.

“I’m Chris Watake.”

I don’t know why I was talking to this nut head. Maybe I was drunk. I don’t even know. But this crazy bitch goes around at 2-3am in the morning taping flyers that offer assistance to emo fuckers with killing themselves. He was advertising murder. I took it as a joke.

“Those are pretty morbid flyers. What do you do with them? Is that number even real?”
“Oh you’ve been looking at them pretty closely haven’t you. You interested?”
I laughed.
“No no. Just wondering.”
He laughed. It sounded fake.
“Yea I’m serious. I help people kill themselves.”

I laughed. It was a fake laugh.

******

Later that day, I took a walk again to the street where I first met him. There were no flyers on the street lights. It's only been a few days. Where did they all go?