The Legend Of Tommy Levi
"I don't wanna die; I sometimes wish I had never been born at all..." - Dawkins













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I Don't Wanna Die; Sometimes I Wish I'd Never Been Born at All

7/13/2001

He had been in his home for a couple days now, drowning his feelings in BriskDrivers, a seductive combination of Vodka and Lipton Brisk, as well as many, many cans of his favorite malt beverage, Steel Reserve 211. He sat in a simple metal folding chair, right in front of his front door, holding, of all things, a two by four with a nail sticking out at the end. He stared at the empty space on the wall... the space that once cradled Lucia and Anthony. She had died on the table minutes after giving birth to him, and that one quick snapshot was the only picture he had of mother and son together. Minutes later, her eyes slowly shut, and her pulse became weaker and weaker. He shut his eyes...

It's a boy! Oh, baby, we... YOU did it! He's so beautiful...

Just like his father...

The doctors handed the infant to her, and she laughed as Taylor had fumbled with the frickin camera in his newfound parental nervousness. She cradled him, holding their faces together, and smiled. In his mind, she had never looked more beautiful. That's when the doctor's voice boomed through

She's fading fast! Someone get me-- and I need a-- NOW!

He watched her slip away, standing there numb to the whole scenario. He managed to walk over to her, and grasp her hand into his, kissing it repeatedly, begging her not to go. She weakly squeezed his hand, and whispered

I'll never leave. I'm with you forever...

Then that stupid, wretched, God damned machine let out one long, monotonous beep, which Dawk thought would never end. The doctor's checked for a pulse, removed the oxygen mask for good, and began to cry. Taylor lifted his head from her chest, and stared into her open eyes, now rendered lifeless. He screamed at the doctors to save her

Save her, you fucking bastards! GOD DAMN IT, SAVE HER! She's NOT READY to FUCKING DIE YET! She's NOT FUCKING READY!

Now he found himself back on the chair, holding his medieval weapon, staring again at the space that held that photo. His jaw trembled... and his whole body followed in from. He freed the two by four from his hand, standing up, walking haggardly to the empty place on the wall

Save ME! God DAMN it, GET OFF YOUR ASSES AND SAVE ME!!!

His neck snapped to the right, as the phone rang once... twice...

Hey slutass, you've reached Dawk, but I ain't in right now, so leave a frickin message, and if you ain't from SoCal, then maybe I'll give you a call. If you ARE from SoCal... ain't that a pisser?

Beep

Hey Dawk, it's Jake, I know you're home man, just pick up the phone. I got something for you, and I know this will help you out. Come on, man, pick up the phone. Ahh, whatever. I'll be over in a little bit then. Just... I'm sorry, man...

Click.

The pain was turning into hatred, and his eyes were simply shields to prevent that rage from escaping. Trash the house? It crossed his mind...

Screw Levi. Screw Levi. Saturday, Saturday, Saturday. That son of a b'tch. Screw him. Saturday, son of a b'tch. Levi, Saturday. Screw him. I'll kill him. I'll frickin kill him when it's all said and done, I swear to God I will... I'm gonna kill him. Kill...

But the loss of his wife, and the pain of not having seen his son in months; he lived in Seattle with his parents, and life on the road made it hard to see him often. But he never missed a birthday, and he never missed a holiday, and he sent nearly every dime he made to his boy; it mounted. And he collapsed to the floor, fetal position, bawling, bawling like a newborn who had just lost his mother.