08-24-2021, 03:10 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-24-2021, 04:47 PM by Solomon. Edited 3 times in total.)
Content Warning
This post contains content that may be unsettling to some readers, including:- Mild Gore
@Flynn
Solomon Bishop remembers everything as he dies. Every fuckin’ detail. He remembers his humans — the ones he worked for — pointing one of those deadly ass weapons that the humans hold in their paws at him. The ones that make the loudest bang and completely cock up his sensitive ears — they’d be ringing for days! He’s used to that sound though, it only took him a few months and then a few more months of getting used to the damn tinnitus that came with it. Oh, the ringing still bothers him, but he’s almost used to it…almost.
Only, after he hears the bang, or actually it was before, his human yelled for him.
Bishop! Bishop! Come the fuck here, yeah?!
He came like the moderately good boy he was, not understanding why his friend was in such a god damned rush. Licking his chops of the coppery taste on his lips he tilted his head to him. That’s when he’s being pointed at point blank by one of those paw weapons, it shoots fucking metal — deadly those things are. The barrel held straight between his eyes. Solomon doesn’t move, he doesn’t fear his human, but he wonders just exactly why he’s pointing that death machine at him. The hell did he do?!
‘M sorry, boy, but you shouldn’t ‘ave fuckin’ done that.
BANG!
And there he goes, brains splattering all over the dirty fuckin pavement. All over the horse shit covered streets. Blood mixes with the puddles of rain on the grimy walkway as his large body falls limp, massive head practically split in two.
He’s dead. He falls. No thoughts, no recognition, no nothing, mind blissfully blank.
As he falls, he feels like he’s swung into and through the ground, upside down, and into a whole ass circle, waking up in the same position he was in just as the bullet split his head. Standing, head tilted, gaze skyward. It all happens within a split second, maybe even half a second. He blinks; once, twice, three times, and inhales a startling gasp. As if he’s been resuscitated by fuckin god himself, feeling right as rain, minus the headache. Solomon knows he’s dead, knows he’s been killed. He knows what those weapons do. They work just as his teeth do.
Finally snapping out of his stiff pre-death posture he looks around him. It’s sunny and warm, there’s some good looking trees and such too. And oh look, a mountain in the distance — how pleasant.
He looks down at his paws, clearing his throat and blinks a few more times.
“Well fuck me, mate.” He grumbles to himself. “Never thought I’d go to fuckin’ ‘eaven if I went and died now, eh?” He looks around once more and thinks, a slightly constipated expression overcoming him.
“Huh.” He hums as if he’s not impressed. “Guess I shouldn’t ‘ave ate all those fuxkin’ kids. Wrong answer ‘m realizing now. Could’ve done bettah, yeah.”
A deep frown overcomes his face then and he just shouts out into the distance as loud as he can —
“FUCK!”
He stumbles, paces, and bangs his head on a nearby tree. “Bish ya fuckin’ cocked it all up ya fuckin’ moron!” He can’t stop the word fuck from coming from his lips for more than a second or two at most. Until his anger passes and he stands with his head against the tree, looking sullenly down to his paws. “Fucked it all right up, I did.” Those last words are hardly above a raspy whisper.
Thinking of his friend he says finally, echoing the man’s words. “Sorry, mate, guess I shouldn’t ‘ave fuckin’ done that, eh.”
Doesn’t matter now. Solomons fucking dead and so is his old life. Time to figure out what to do next…after he sulks a bit more of course.
the staff team luvs u
Solomon Bishop remembers everything as he dies. Every fuckin’ detail. He remembers his humans — the ones he worked for — pointing one of those deadly ass weapons that the humans hold in their paws at him. The ones that make the loudest bang and completely cock up his sensitive ears — they’d be ringing for days! He’s used to that sound though, it only took him a few months and then a few more months of getting used to the damn tinnitus that came with it. Oh, the ringing still bothers him, but he’s almost used to it…almost.
Only, after he hears the bang, or actually it was before, his human yelled for him.
Bishop! Bishop! Come the fuck here, yeah?!
He came like the moderately good boy he was, not understanding why his friend was in such a god damned rush. Licking his chops of the coppery taste on his lips he tilted his head to him. That’s when he’s being pointed at point blank by one of those paw weapons, it shoots fucking metal — deadly those things are. The barrel held straight between his eyes. Solomon doesn’t move, he doesn’t fear his human, but he wonders just exactly why he’s pointing that death machine at him. The hell did he do?!
‘M sorry, boy, but you shouldn’t ‘ave fuckin’ done that.
BANG!
And there he goes, brains splattering all over the dirty fuckin pavement. All over the horse shit covered streets. Blood mixes with the puddles of rain on the grimy walkway as his large body falls limp, massive head practically split in two.
He’s dead. He falls. No thoughts, no recognition, no nothing, mind blissfully blank.
As he falls, he feels like he’s swung into and through the ground, upside down, and into a whole ass circle, waking up in the same position he was in just as the bullet split his head. Standing, head tilted, gaze skyward. It all happens within a split second, maybe even half a second. He blinks; once, twice, three times, and inhales a startling gasp. As if he’s been resuscitated by fuckin god himself, feeling right as rain, minus the headache. Solomon knows he’s dead, knows he’s been killed. He knows what those weapons do. They work just as his teeth do.
Finally snapping out of his stiff pre-death posture he looks around him. It’s sunny and warm, there’s some good looking trees and such too. And oh look, a mountain in the distance — how pleasant.
He looks down at his paws, clearing his throat and blinks a few more times.
“Well fuck me, mate.” He grumbles to himself. “Never thought I’d go to fuckin’ ‘eaven if I went and died now, eh?” He looks around once more and thinks, a slightly constipated expression overcoming him.
“Huh.” He hums as if he’s not impressed. “Guess I shouldn’t ‘ave ate all those fuxkin’ kids. Wrong answer ‘m realizing now. Could’ve done bettah, yeah.”
A deep frown overcomes his face then and he just shouts out into the distance as loud as he can —
“FUCK!”
He stumbles, paces, and bangs his head on a nearby tree. “Bish ya fuckin’ cocked it all up ya fuckin’ moron!” He can’t stop the word fuck from coming from his lips for more than a second or two at most. Until his anger passes and he stands with his head against the tree, looking sullenly down to his paws. “Fucked it all right up, I did.” Those last words are hardly above a raspy whisper.
Thinking of his friend he says finally, echoing the man’s words. “Sorry, mate, guess I shouldn’t ‘ave fuckin’ done that, eh.”
Doesn’t matter now. Solomons fucking dead and so is his old life. Time to figure out what to do next…after he sulks a bit more of course.
the staff team luvs u