Most Holes Wins
It’s so dark in here that I all I can see is my breath. Well, if I had any. Breath, that is. I stand guard and listen and wait until the doors open and I’m allowed out, to do my duty, mark my time, and hope that, even if they don’t thank me, at least they’ll ignore me. And let me go back in, unbothered, unscathed, and with no additional holes in my head.
They’ve become quite proficient and competitive, with their aim as accurate as it is forceful. And they have unwavering patience, to wait and enjoy my pending and guaranteed arrival, their childish laughter in stark contrast to their macabre determination to add more evidence of their marksmanship. My fate was sealed when they mounted me beside the dart board and turned a blind eye while their murderous little children made me their unwilling target.
And so I wait and listen, without free will but with eternal hope. It’s almost seven o’clock and the doors are about to open again.
“Cuckoo.”
“Missed!” Murderous child number one.
“My turn!” Murderous child number two.
“Cuckoo.”
“Ugh! Missed. Good thing we have five more tries!”
It was only a matter of time.
