“Please God; let me live long enough to put a bullet in that scum’s head. That’s all I as-k...”
His face twisted and he dropped his gun. It was as if God answered his prayer by dropping an elephant on his chest. His one good hand fumbled for his pills. They spilled!
He fell to the ground and groped in the moonlight until he scooped them up along with a handful of dirt. He placed a pill under his tongue. The nitro burned. He waited. Nothing. He took another. The elephant got off his chest. The second pill did it. He was going to live!
“Thank you God!” He said.
He was back on the trail.
It’s a good thing ol’ Rock didn’t have to take a third pill, because the instructions clearly state that after the third one, to call 911 and go directly to the hospital. Doctors get kind of pissy about not following their directions. I ought to know.
Anyway, I seem to need that second pill more and more these days. Every time I take it, it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I guess it’s all good as long as I don’t have to take a third nitro, right?
But I should count my blessings. I’ve started going to the Healing Room because of it. Wow! Each visit is like being transported to Heaven.
They don’t even know me, but the words they get from God blow me away. They say that God is going to do something mighty.
Third pill or not, I’m excited.