I do not like green eggs and ham

I’m walking to my own death, Justin thinks to himself. Part of him wants to laugh, the other wants to cry, and somewhere deep inside of him wants to scream and kill these three men that are planning to take his life from him. My life. He still can’t believe how much had happened in the past few months. He had gone from attending PIFA, interning at Vanguard and trying to reconcile with Brian… to this. People that he loved were dead. His family was dead, and now he had a smaller, beautiful family… and he was going to be taken from them. It really wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. Life really did suck. But he had choices, right? Life didn’t have to suck. He could make something more from it. Fuck, he had many a lot of wonderful things out of it. He married the love of his life. He was taking care of his sister. He was becoming the successful artist that he always strived to be. Life didn’t suck. This moment sucked. This moment where death was waiting for him. Sighing, he asks, “How much farther?” He knew he had been told to shut up, but they didn’t really expect him to be quiet, did they? “Shut up.” Okay, maybe they did. “Don’t I get last words or something?” Justin replies with annoyance and again he is surprised that through all the emotions he’s feeling, it’s the annoyance that seeps out in his voice. Stopping in front of a large building, the shorter man pushes the door open and the four men step inside. Coughing, Justin asks, “When was the last time anyone dusted in here?” He didn’t care if he was acting snobbish, that was his given right considering the circumstances. “Don’t worry,” the second man comment snidely, “We’ll be sure you land on a soft blanket of feathers. How does that sound?” Fuck off. Justin only smirks. Making sure the door is securely closed, the larger man pulls out his gun (not the taser) and sighs, “Let’s get this shit over with.” “Wait!” Justin exclaims quickly, “I need to say my last words! That’s the rule.” “What the fuck?” The third man argues. Justin nods his head, “You can’t just kill me without letting me say or do something. That’s the rule.” “Says who?” The larger man asks, though he seems amused. “Everyone.” Justin counters. Chuckling, the man leans against one of the crates, “Alright, I’ll let you have this. You got one minute.” Justin’s face falls, “Only a minute?” They surely can’t be enough time. “Clock’s ticking.” The third man replies. Fuck.