Gambling: The Sport of the Weak Man

Kenneth Johnson was a cripple. He received pity from strangers, resentment from his family and friends. His furious and prideful attitude turned others away from him. He was all alone in the world. No one loved him. No one cared about him. If he died, he would be the only one at the funeral. But today his life would change. For the first time in his life, he would walk again.

Kenneth sat in the black car, staring out the dark, tinted windows watching the pouring rain run down the glass. He knew this would happen eventually. His father always told him, "Gambling is a weak man's sport, Kenny." His father's words ran through Kenneth's head. But what did his father know, he was a drunken asshole. The large man sitting next to Kenneth frightened him. He wore a blue sports coat, and black dockers. The man had large, bulky hands that could strangle a lion. He had no hair to cover his protruding forehead which showed off a jagged scar running from the top right corner of his hairline to the corner of his left eye. He had blue eyes that would not remove their cold gaze from Kenneth's frightened face. Those blue eyes pierced into Kenneth's soul. They were unbearable.

The car came to a halt. The large man stepped out of the car and slammed the door. He walked around to the trunk of the car. Kenneth remained in his seat, watching him from the inside of the car. He saw the man open the trunk and pull out Kenneth's wheelchair. He pushed the wheelchair up to Kenneth's door, which he opened and pulled Kenneth into the chair.

They were at an old warehouse that looked to have been closed down for years. The large man walked up to the tall doors and opened them. Kenneth was pushed inside. Not by the large man, but by another man; The Driver.

There was nothing in the warehouse but two men holding AK-47s in their arms surrounding an empty chair in the middle of room. He was pushed into the center of the room facing the chair. Then the driver and the large man stepped away from Kenneth and faced the other two men on the opposite side of the room. He sat in silence for about thirty seconds when the doors that he had entered through opened again. He heard footsteps walking toward him. They stopped when they were directly behind him.

"Hello Kenny." a dark, hoarse voice whispered into his ear. Chills ran down his spine. A tall man with grey hair and wrinkles came from around from behind him.

"Johnny!" Kenneth said, "listen, Johnny, please! I just need some more time! Please just a little more time!"

"Shut up!" The man yelled, "Do you know what would happen to us if we gave you more time? Huh? All the other Low-life scumbags that can't pay their tax payment once a month are gonna come crying to me-like you are now- begging me for just a little more time. And I would have to give it to 'em, because I was so generous to you."

"Please, Johnny, please! I've got nothing left, please!"

"Good, then you have nothing to lose." Johnny looked at the Large Man and nodded. Kenneth felt an acrimonious pain in his neck. His head was held steady by the Large Man's colossal hand. "You know, guns are are so messy, so unethical, so... traceable." a small, vacant syringe was thrown on the floor in front of him. "So," Johnny continued, "we like to use this chemical. We call it Venom. It was created by a scientist who was trying to find the cure for cancer. Uh, Riggs, I think his name was. Henry Riggs. Looks like he discovered the opposite of what he was looking for. It takes five minutes to kill you. With a fair dosage. Now, Kenny. You've got five minutes left on this Earth. Anything you wanna get off your chest?"

"I-" Kenneth tried to speak, but the words couldn't escape his mouth, "I- I want-"

A man ran into the room from behind Kenneth and yelled, "Johnny! It's the police!"

Johnny cursed, "What are they doing here?"

"I don't know," the man said, "I think someone tipped 'em off!"

Johnny turned to Kenneth, then to his men,"Put him in the freezer!" Immediately, Kenneth was pulled out of his chair and dragged across the room. He was carried over to a thick metal door. A man holding an AK-47 opened the door, and Kenneth was thrown into a cold, icy fridge. As he lay on the raw, frosted floor he heard the door that entered into the warehouse open, and instantly, there was gunfire. The Large Man stood at the entrance of the fridge. He turned around and was slugged in the chest by a piercing, metal bullet. he fell backwards into the fridge and pulled himself up to the handle of the door and slammed it closed, locking him and Kenneth inside He Reached up toward the frion and grasped onto it with his big, beefy hands. He tried to pull himself up, but the frion broke off the wall, and the pipe it was attached to started to release icy, cold air. The Large Man screamed, his arm was completely frozen. he fell to the ground rolling around in pain. this was the last sight Kenneth saw before falling into blackness.

Kenneth awoke in the freezer. He was amazed that he was alive. But something was wrong. He wasn't cold. In fact, he was warm. he looked up to see the broken pipe still filtering out the cold air. He looked at the ground. The Large Man was perfectly frozen. Kenneth looked at his hands. They were an icy blue. He bent his fingers. They were still flexible. He stood up. His legs worked! He didn't know how, nor did he care. This was going to be the best day of his life. But first, he had to get out of the overwhelming heat of the freezer.