The Program by Lucille Gallegos
	The gun in my hand was still smoking after I fired off that last shot. Man, the head of that last one just exploded. It seemed so much different then the last one. His eye nearly popped right out of its socket. I can't help but feel some sort of pleasure as I use these crazed lunatics as target practice. The idea of how much pain that they have caused to so many people. Oh well, when I heard about this program, I couldn't help but sign up as soon as possible. The thought of another child's agonizing scream or the feeling of pain just disgusts me. It serves the bastards right; who do they think they are, anyway. Thinking they can keep getting away with their filthy, disgusting ways. The door swings open again, and another man starts to run out of the building. He is even younger than the last piece of worthless human waste. He begs for his life as I shoot him in the leg. I think I will let this one suffer more then the others, he looks like a real pervert. He probably didn't mind it when the child that he put his hands on begged and pleaded for him to stop. Yeah, this one looks like a real twisted fuck. Take your time, I had to talk myself out of wanting to just waste his sorry ass, right here and now. Make him suffer, I kept telling myself, he never thought about how much pain and torture he would make the children and families go through. It's okay, he's the sick one that deserves to die, don't forget. You let him live and he'll just be free to do it again. Another bullet explodes from its chamber, and whizzes through the air, connecting right above the knee cap on his other leg. Screams of agony and pain fill the air from the man that has made his own destiny. The next shot is fired right through his heart, dropping him instantly to the ground. "Time's up," says the woman behind me, as she takes her 9mm from her gun case.
	Copyright © 2006 Lucille Gallegos