Jared and Gnat - Part Five - Already Dead
Lightning flashed outside as Jared sat up agitated. Of course, it had to be stormy, didn't it? Being calm and quiet would mean Jared would finally get some fucking sleep, and we don't want that, do we? He sat on the moth eaten couch looking down at Gnat, who was sleeping soundly. Gnat always slept well. It's all he ever fucking does.
Without hesitation, Jared reached underneath the couch and pulled out a handgun. He cocked it, put it to his head and pulled the trigger. Click... The weasel growled. Click click. He sharply stood up and hurled the gun at the wall. As it crashed to the floor, Gnat opened his eyes, ears twitching, but simply curled up tighter. He knew it was best to just let Jared get all the anger out of his system.
The distraught weasel picked up the gun and reloaded it with ammunition from Gnat's stash, but the bullet wasn't destined for his brain this time. He slammed the door behind him and marched down the street. Jared didn't have shoes to protect his feet from the wetness of the pavement: he didn't have the money... Barely enough for food. If the place he lived in wasn't abandoned he would certainly have to pay a rent he couldn't afford. For that much, he was thankful, but it was the music industry that turned its back on him, and they were going to pay. Someone is going to pay.
It was a long walk into suburbia from where his dilapidated house lay, but that's okay; it gave him time to think. Only a portion of the street lights were working, but that number increased the closer he got to town. He hacked and doubled over; fresh air was something he wasn't much used to, and didn't care for. After picking himself back to his feet, he noticed he was standing outside a barely usable building that he was very familiar with... It was his manager's office and label. He snorted, for his nose was cold and entered the building.
The office wasn't much nicer on the inside than it was on the outside, but he didn't care. It was much more liveable than his current quarters: nice wooden reception desk, couches that weren't moth eaten and actual wallpaper; though he didn't much care for the shade of green. To his surprise, Jared noticed that the reception was completely empty. Maybe the PA had left for the evening and forgot to lock the door on his way out. Either way, he was here now, and he was going to kill Jack Sheppard tonight.
The light was on behind the polished, wooden office door. A spider plant grew next to it on the floor, which looked like it was well tended to it. "Bastard," thought Jared, "He cares more about plants than he does about me." Standing outside the door, Jared decided this was it, and kicked it open. The rat that sat behind the desk startled, almost falling out of his chair. Jared glared at him as he met Jack's eyes. Suddenly the fear in Jack's expression turned to confusion. "Jared?" he asked, squinting, "Jared, is that you? I thought you were dead!"
"I am!" He shouted and stepped aggressively towards his manager. "Woah, woah! Take it easy," he said, arms outstretched and backing up against the wall.
"Jared, you've been gone for ten years. How the hell was I supposed to know? If I knew you were alive-"
"Shut up!" commanded the very aggressive weasel. "You knew what I was going through. You knew that I developed a habit, lost my house, lost my friends. When I went missing you didn't try to find me. I even called you, from the number that you have five years later. You sent me straight to voicemail. You never gave a shit about me, or Gnat."
"Jared, I'm sorry," he begged.
"Oh, you will be," Jared said and drew his revolver, pointing it straight between the eyes of the rat.
"Jared... You were dead!"
"No, but you will be."
He stared down the sights for what seemed a very long time, furrowing his brow. "NO!" shouted Jared, and brought down the gun with force across Jack's jaw, sending him crashing down in agony.
When Jared returned home, he slept soundly through the thunder.