Storm

Storm



Nurse, open the blinds, please.  Thank you.



It’s going to storm soon.  Mama always said to count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder, and you’d know how far away the storm is. One… two… three… miles.  Not far.



I know I signed the permission form. I want this, but first let me have a few minutes to watch the storm.  Asinine, ridiculous disease; the pain is unrelenting, of course, but the uselessness, the frustration, the waiting while it eats away at my insides like a wasp larvae in a living host… did you know I was a botanist, a scientist, doctor?  In fact, I discovered that drug in the needle you’re about to stick in the plastic line snaking into my heart. 



There goes the lightning… one… two… When it’s here, you can inject me.



Twenty-two years I spent in the jungles, another twenty-something in the lab.  And my greatest achievement is in your hand.  My crowning glory.



One… oh.  The thunder and lightning, together… here.



I always wanted to ride the lightning.  I’m ready now.  Yes, I’m going to watch.  It’s only fitting that the last thing I see before I die is the green liquid death I invented.