Written by Justin Plante

It seems that when the chips are down…nothing matters anymore. You don’t hold back. You let go, forget your humanity. Judgment still bears its heavy load on us even in our darkest hours. Nothing gets by.   I sit here, behind deceitful bars. I made a deal with the devil, and I got burned. The families I destroyed, the men I dishonored. Everything drops with the ball.   3   It’s almost time; the end is here.   2   When that final second ticks, the decision has to be made.   1   This is it.   New Year strikes and the time for repenting has come and gone. I have to atone for my sins. My actions, my deceits…time for it all now.   Time to give it up.   The chips are down…I have to act. No time to think.   I feel the sweat on my brow. I grab the gun. The cool metallic feels like ice on my palm. I stand, but it feels like I’m floating. No ground, no earth; just me, the gun, and my target.   He has to pay for everything. I will unleash my sins unto him. He will feel my pain, my angst. Everything he represents…everything he is has to be destroyed.   I have no feeling. My mind is numb; my hands, my fingers; totally numb. I look up to God for an answer. He sends me the light. He makes it clear.   I take a step towards oblivion. The gates of hell draw me near. I know my destiny; I’ve accepted it, now he must accept his. Another step echoes like a .45. I feel the gaze of the men I let down, the men I led to their death. This is for them. For all the men I’ve failed. This is for them.   This is it, the final step. I approach the target. His life lies on my fore-finger. God pulls the trigger. His time for judgment has come.   Darkness.   Death is a funny game. Like Richard Dawson on the Match Game, Death deals out stupid lines, funny quips and the occasional twist. Like when guy who has won 5 days in a row loses to a stupid girl with a pretty face…That’s what Death is like.   It’s done. The trial is over. The jury has gone home to their families. The judge is drinking his whiskey in his office. The sentence has been given. I have met my maker, and the wrong men died. My target, my enemy, my…partner…spits on my carcass.   I’m nothing. I deserve what I got…the men I deceived laugh at me. My target laughs at me.   The devil welcomes me into his home, his kingdom. I look into his eyes, and every bit of me laughs.