THE LASSOFUL OF DEATH
Lasso = a rope or long thong of leather with a noose used especially for catching horses and cattle. Death = the permanent ending of vital processes in a cell or tissue.
"How about throwing you a hand? Well, my friend in need, I'm going to throw you a lasso!" sounded the caring voice of Mr Rico standing in front of his brand new Jaguar full of stupid but beautiful girls giggling.
The unemployed bastard just stared at the teleworld, listening to the fortunate, pensive. The lasso was not help but death and the friend was a self-indulgent murderer. The unfortunate bastard, during the following 24 hours at best, would be hunted by the real lassoful of death, struggling for survival. He had never played that game, though he had seen it many times, remembering the ends too far away from happy. Now he was the temporary hero or just simply another loser. However, the game was a mental battle, rather than a physical one because the lasso moved at 3 mph, at the height of 5 feet.
So tired, he was not prepared for such a long and wearisome hunt at all, no way. He already caught sight of the black-red lasso signaling death danger. It was navigated by all the people around competing for the big instant cash prizes. But no one, only officially, could get in his way. He knew he would become solid but cheap entertainment for millions until the very end, hardly did anybody survive or come the winner.
The first idea springing into life was going home to get himself ready reducing his terrible handicap because no one would suspect that the future prey, no matter how dumb one was, would do such a foolishness. He was wrong, though. Since then he had to get used to the fact that the eager, malicious, annoying crowd watched every desperate maneuver of the potential victim, including WC privacy. His second idea was speeding away in his tenth hand, rusty car. He did not happen to start on the engine, bad luck.
"Great" ideas rushed to his mind since then. He tried them, failed, but all his wretched action took some time at least. He had difficulty walking slowly but could not run anymore, finally he taught the lasso a lesson at crossroads dancing among the dangerous cars. The dumb lasso followed, trying to imitate, but was cut, run over before it metamorphosed again. The hunted was awfully starving and thirsty, stopping by his friend's bar. Having no money, he got kicked out. A true friend! Depressed, he kept on walking, cursing, even interviewed.
A bike saved him no matter the reporters shouted "...the bastard stole a bike running away, coping...our hero is a criminal..." But the road was full of broken glass and nails. His fans, naturally, were true ones. And the camera eyes kept up. The desperado was really mad, needing privacy, deciding to go underground, though he hated the sewerage.
When on the point of collapse, his ex-girlfriend showed sympathy letting him eat, drink, take a shower, rest a bit, and have sex with her before the hidden cameraman sneezed, making the hard prey hang on like a cornered animal. She betrayed him. The lasso was there and touched his hand. In pain he yelled with terror as the skin burned. Things got rough and no one dared to lock any door or tackle him in some way anymore. Even one moment, it lasted a few hours, he thought he had gone insane, unaware of where he was going and why.
Later he found out he was conservatively dressed, except his Christ sandals painfully worn-out. He may have visited some luxury shop without using a credit card, making bombastic publicity. But he was driving the same vicious circles, thinking of his genius to finally mark a breakthrough in this damn hunt. To his own surprise he got it, setting a simple lace-yourself-lasso trap, which also worked just for a while. Many people bored to death fell away on seeing the extraordinary bastard still coping with success.
Accidentally he met another player on the run. This one was a real train killer. The fittest survived, so the bastard did not understand why he kept walking. The big money was transferred to his empty bank account - the sum he needed to make his triumphant plan work. Finally in the bank, he took rounds to withdraw the money, sign, count, say thank you and wave goodbye. Remembering good manners, he could not stop, pursued by the lasso. Even borrowing a quarter, he bought that turn-point thing only the very rich could afford and, self-confident, approached Mr Rico's gold skyscraper, intending to pay him a visit throwing back the lassoful of death. Not even the bodyguards could stop him because he had enough ID, the bastard was immune.
Mr Rico was shocked, begging for mercy. But this time no bribe could do any good. The bastard used that turn-point thing. The lasso at once changed its target doing away with Mr Rico before long, for he was too fat and full of remorse to go on, though there was only 5 minutes left till the end. Bad luck, really. The unfortunate bastard lay on the floor, totally exhausted, disgusted at the world, the life, himself, swallowing tears.
How he had always hated his inherited social status, being poor, unemployed, miserable! He did not seem to realize that things were dramatically changed for the better. He was the winner, hence the brand new horizons, the bright American sun.
A beautiful middle-class girl asked him to marry her in a hurry, to which he nodded like an idiot.
"Tomorrow we're leaving the town to really live one quality life together. I gotta sleep, with you, honey..." concluded the lucky fiance, not a bastard anymore, and kissed the treasure on her cheek.
XXX
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After 4 days withour power, I do not have paper to scribble on, I am back, at it. I could fetch a pizza, frisbee much ? https://www.buymeacoffee.com/lsouralF
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