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Jack, Fred and Knute were hanging out on the roof. They weren’t supposed to be there, but whatever. Knute sat by the busted door. For the record, he was scared of heights. He sat absently fiddling with a piece of gravel. Meanwhile, right over there, Jack was walking along the ledge, his arms out like Jeff Bridges in Fearless. Fred was leaning over the ledge backward; his body arched staring at the corona glowing off the cityscape in the distance. They didn’t have anything else to do. “Hey Knute why don’t you come over here,” Fred shouted his head dangling. “Knute’s not going anywhere,” Jack responded, looking down at his feet. “Why,” Fred asked. “Didn’t you know? Knute’s scared of heights,” he replied. “Ain’t that right, Burt,” Jack shouted in Burt’s direction. Knute stood up and walked over to the ledge and shoved Jack. He went quietly tumbling twelve stories down and landed with an unimpressive thump. Fred righted himself in shock. He was too stunned to say anything at first. He just looked over the ledge, and back toward Knute, who had returned to his spot next to the door, fiddling with his gravel shard. “Why did you…what… do that? What have … man…you… why…you done? Why? Why?” “What?” Knute responded, not a little incredulous. “Looks like he was the one who was scared. Doesn’t it?” “No dude.” “Well, that’s the way I feel.” They remained frozen in their respective positions, like actors blocked in a scene. They stayed that way for several minutes until they left.

Date Written: July 10, 2005
Author: scoop
Average Vote: 3.125