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I Shot The Weatherman
I can't put my finger on the exact moment my life started unraveling, but unravel it did. Maybe it was
my girlfriend leaving, not that her leaving was necessarily a bad thing. But you know a guy gets lonely. Maybe it was my inability to keep a job longer than three months. Maybe it was the constant harassment from bill
collectors. Hell they wanted a house payment, car payment... money for this... money for that... money money money money, the root of all evil. The vet was even on my ass for not paying for my dog's surgery. Now the
dog's dead, the only living thing that meant anything to me. And when he used to hump my girlfriend's leg (smiles) the memories are priceless. Kodak moments indeed. All I had left was a cat and a TV set. The cat
despised me and if the TV set had the ability to despise me it would. So in the midst of my misery, I watched the six o'clock news and discovered that the world was full of misery, my neighborhood full of it with murder,
madness, and general mayhem. And there I was, drowning my misery in a bottle of whiskey. Then the weatherman came on, that sorry SOB. He's what made me snap. Yes sir, the gasoline was already there and he provided
the match. He's what set me off. That goofy smile, that smirk, that smugness. What did he do, you might ask? He had the audacity to tell me to have a nice day. He was speaking directly to me, right through that TV
set. I know he was. It's gonna be a great day... BILLY. A picture perfect day.. .BILLY. 68 degrees, light breeze, sunshine... BILLY. I know he said my name. I know he did. Over and over and
over. Now go ahead and have a nice day... BILLY. That's when I lost it. All the months of misery culminating in me taking my pistol - oh yea I forgot, another possession I still had left - and going to the
television studio and shooting the good humor weatherman. I stormed into the studio and there he was, goofy smile and all. "Have a nice day huh? Have a nice freaking day huh?, " I said. Look at me, it's
Billy. Remember me? Huh? You told me to have a nice day. Your sarcasm... your smugness... well take this you cocksucker. I shot him twice. He hit the floor. I fled. I was captured. He
survived. He was wearing a bullet proof vest. What weatherman wears a bullet proof vest? I found out there are other Billys out there with malice in their hearts. And now every night in the prison rec room, the other
prisoners and the guards make sure I watch the six o'clock news. And there he is, that smug son of a bitch. Still mocking, still teasing me, have a great day... BILLY. Have a nice day. They say I have twenty years
to listen to that. When I get outta here.
By the way I hear he's taking care of my cat.
Copyright © 2005 Les Marcott
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