Fighting the Good Fight

Well, tonight, as I hang from a ledge by my fuchsia pink fingernails, I find that I have a few moments of time on my hands (ha ha) to pause and contemplate how difficult it can often be to fight the good fight...

You see, it all began innocently enough...

There I was, at Borders in Concord, looking through the astrology section. I have never really given much credence to astrology but I have flirted with the idea of predestination to some extent.

Recently destiny appears to be rearing it's ugly head... you see, much as I attempt to deny and rage against fate, my career as a Saltminer of some sort, somewhere seems to be following me around like a bad smell...

Anyway, back to the story at hand.

There I was, perusing the in-stock offerings on destiny, when I heard a commotion from the back of the store.

Moments later, two men came rushing past me, shouting that someone was on the roof and threatening to jump.

This intrigued me. You see, though I have been depressed and disheartened, the real idea of just ending it all has never seemed like a viable option to me. Frankly, I consider suicide to be horribly selfish. But that's just me.

Anyway, curious as ever, I sauntered on my spiky red shoes to the back of the store. There was a large crowd of employees just standing there, wondering out loud what to do, other than to call the Concord PD. It only took about 24 seconds before I found myself growing irritated by the crowd's hesitation to act... So I spoke up,

"Hey, I can talk to him. Where is he?"

I must say, it's just like I've always thought...the majority of people are more than happy to let someone else take charge in a crisis... even someone like me, who clearly has no idea what they heck they are doing.

So I went up to the roof and there he was... it was Jericho, my old comrade from South Boston.

He was standing by the edge of the roof, hunched over slightly, peering down at the ground. When he heard me approach he turned. He appeared completely unsurprised by my appearance, which bowled me over because I was shocked as hell to see him.

As per usual, I opened the negotiations with some of my incredibly witty banter, saying,

"Hey."

He, seeming less than impressed, turned back to his search for a painful landing spot. He allowed me to come within about three feet of him before saying,

"Don't even bother PQ. It's over. Besides, I've heard all about your troubles from Seymour, you haven't got any more to live for than I do, so don't even try to tell me 'it's all gonna be alright' or any bull to that effect."

When I first arrived on the roof to see him, I'd been shocked, then sad...but now...

I was pissed.

I fought down the urge to just kick him in the ass with my red shoe by biting the inside of my mouth and taking a long, slow breath. Hoping that somehow inspiration would suddenly come to my rescue in the event that some higher power failed to speak through me, I opened my mouth and started to speak... what came out was a shock even to me... I said,

"I find your whining purile and self serving. If you're really ready to kill yourself and not just making a pathetic cry for attention, then you better do it now before the police get here and put themselves at risk trying to save your disease ridden hide. Honestly, you make me sick with your whining and complaining. Exactly what the hell are you waiting for?"

For a moment his spine straightened and he turned to look at me, considering me seriously for perhaps the first time of our entire acquaintence.

Now it was his turn to look shocked, and then furious.

Thankfully, at this point he was so pissed, he took a step toward me and away from the edge of the roof. Unfortunately, at this point, a siren sounded, startling me and Jericho both.

That would have been fine, if the roof hadn't chosen just that very moment to shift under our feet.

Oddly enough, the roof of Borders in Concord has been leaking for some time... actually that was the reason why Jericho had been allowed to get to the roof, someone thought he was a contractor... It must have been the steel-toed boots...

Anyway, the roof began to, well, slide. Small pebbles began rolling off the roof, as the metal listed to one side. The movement threw both of us flat down to our stomachs. Within seconds my nose was full of dirt and my eyes stung.

'Well, this is just freaking great,' I thought, as I felt myself sliding ever nearer to a painful death.

In another instant my feet were no longer touching anything solid, next went my legs, my torso, and eventually everything with the exception of my brightly polished fingernails. Somehow, I'd managed to find some sort of purchase on the edge of the slipping, sliding section of roof (Mother of Carlos I love aliteration).

This, as I stated at the beginning of this story, gave me just the time I needed to ponder fighting the good fight...

I suddenly realized, that I've somehow been fighting all my life... usually for other people.

This time I was fighting for me.

I don't know how I did it... how I'm doing it...

But I'm holding on with all my might...

Damn.

I hope rescue arrives pretty damn quick.