The longest most desperate gasp for air followed by a never ending series of "Fuck"Fuck"Fuck". I was back home, bigger yet I'm still alive! First thing I do when I wake up per the arrangements, the team propping me up on my EZ chair in the living room, and I wake up from being sedated I instinctually grab my balls, Yep still in one piece! But seriously something went sideways that gasp for air, my adrenaline racing off the charts, my head in a daze, it was briefly like the shock of falling through the ice on a deep lake.
After I gained my senses I just happened to check my inside suit pocket, Yeah I where a suit, on the clock, and it's a damn fine one, Black, Armani. There was a hand written note on a standard sheet of paper folded in 4's. It was from the "Director".
Confessor, at some point even a lucky scrub like you with a high security clearance in the field can hear to much and die for it. Bigger men than us gave me a choice. A 20 minute session with you and you live, anything your ears heard over 21 minutes and you were on a one way trip. "The Boss" highly suggested I go a full hour and spare no expense to get my edge back, what ever it took, I had to painfully argue on a 20 minute session with you, and prove without doubt I didn't choose a short session with you because I gave a fuck about your life. Even "The Boss" can not lay eyes on our mission and not pay the price, so I rather thought he wanted to send you on a one way trip to be spiteful. I simply wanted one man to bear witness to my legacy and sacrifice. "Live Well Confessor", the Director. P.S.: I know your not some AssHat who is going to save this note for his scrapbook, burn it...
I couldn't get that meeting with the Director out of my head. Know interview before caused me to lose this much sleep over a session. The Director boomed,"33 missions..we have killed this man 33 fucking times! dammit this mans soul knows no peace, why can't we just let this man rest with his maker...Than I remember the real reason we make this noble sacrifice". and than the Director spoke so low I couldn't make out a word of what he said other than "looking glass".
My personal cell phone started ripping across the room, and pulled me out of my trance with a huge adrenaline rush, than I recognized the personal ring tone. It was Fucking Kanye, I crashed across the living room and started hyper ventilating. I answered the phone trying to control my breathing and excitement, I didn't want to sound like some"bitch ass fan", "Kanye what may I do for you dear sir?" "Did I catch you at the wrong time Confessor, you so outta breath I thought you might be busy fucking or something son", Kanye mused back and continued. "Now shut up and listen, this is serious life and death shit, I have chosen your for something extremely critical mother fucker, be ready exactly in one hour, you know the routine, make sure you leave your phone on the counter, I'm also not asking you if you have the time to come through for me so you have 30 seconds to agree to this before I hang up on your ass"."Fuck Yeah", I said."Kanye...click...dammit, never mind shit, it was a shitty question about a Red Head. Kanye, Super Star, Legend calls you in a time of need and all you could think to ask the man was about a young red head from some after-set party in Hollywood last year. I got 40 minutes to get ready, My mind is about to disconnect once my ass hits the Limo Kanye is sending over to pick me up. To go from near death to being on top of the world in one hell of an apocalyptic fashion, unreal.
I hear the horn honk, grab my bag, run out to the driveway hella geeked up ready for the lifestyles of the rich and famous, and my heart sank. I was nearly brought to tears. A raggedy ass 20 year old Toyota Corrola with one off color passenger door, and tinted windows was my limo service? I cautiously approached the driver side of the car. The window slowly unrolls and the biggest maddest looking black guy was behind the wheel.
"What the fuck you waiting for? The giant barked,"If you think Im getting my big ass outta this car to open the back door for you...get in the back boy, I'm claustrophobic as it is in this tiny motherfucker, that's how you know this mission is for real life and death shit, the fact I'm wheeling this raggedy piece of shit to pick your dumbass up so we can be extra low key, My name is Ray by the way". Without haste I jumped in the back seat panicked because even a fantastic trip to see a legend is going sideways fast. Ray in a nicer tone says"Kanye knows your taste for clothes, we are doing this shit like Jason Bourne, ditch the suit, there's a pair of Vans, jeans and hoodie for you, we luckily had your clothing measurements from the exclusive guest list". "Ray can I stop at this gas station ahead, I want to grab a pack of cigarettes and a drink?" "Fuck no", Ray hammered back. "Wait, and if you even think about smoking while i'm driving this raggedy mother fucker I will beat your ass ", thundered Ray. I think I hate fucking Ray...I'm afraid to ask at this point where the hell it is we are going...
