|Au Revoir, Je T'adore
Author: craziunderurbed999 PM
Del's last goodbyes. Rated T for cursing, for a bit of sex hinting, and for mice and men dying.Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Friendship - Words: 3,117 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 1 - Published: 02-23-11 - Status: Complete - id: 6770765
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I know my death is comin' soon. But I'm still fuckin' happy.
Still a part of me wishes I could have seen that crazy son of a bitch fuck Percy in his ass. The look on that mouse-killing son of a bitch's face was classic. And when he pissed himself...my god, hysterical!
Boss Edgecomb's a good man. Really wish I could have met them in a better place. Now he's sittin' with me, and Brutal's leanin' against the bars of my cell. I'm throwin' the spool. Mr. Jingles happily catches it.
I'm happy. I know that I'm about to have electricity zapped through me body and no longer will I be alive, gonna be able to play with my mouse and witness that little fuck of a guard's further humiliation, and never again will I be able to speak in French or experience the joys of life, but still, I don't think I've ever been so dem happy. Boss Edgecomb, I know, had developed a liking for me, and would feel sorrow watching me be 'French fried' and Johnny would be sad because he wouldn't have much company, and I knew that Boss Edgecomb would take good care of my mouse while I'm gone. There would be people (and a mouse) missing me, that's for sure.
But that short, asshole guard...the one who pissed his pants and broke my fingers...he would be the one at my execution, I knew...Fuck 'em.
All o' a sudden, Boss Edgecomb says, 'What about Dean? He's got a little boy who would love a pet mouse, I bet.'
The thought horrifies me. 'How could a boy be trust with Mr. Jingles?' I ask. 'Maybe forget to feed him. And how he keep up with his training? Just a boy - n'est ce pas?'
Mon sourris brings the spool back to me and I toss it yet again. This breaks the silence barely. The sound of Mr. Jingles' little paws and the spool scratching against the ground I can hear vaguely.
Boss Edgecomb says, 'All right, I'll take him.'
This satisfies me. I knew that Boss Edgecomb was a good man. He would do anything to take care of Mr. Jingles good...but there was a problem.
Nicely, I reply, 'Thank you kindly, merci beaucoup, but you live out in the woods, and Mr. Jingles, he'd be scared to live out dans la foret.'
'He whisper that in your ear?'
I nod. I can swear, he a magic mouse, Mr. Jingles. Again I toss the spool and my mouse goes for it. I can tell Boss Edgecomb is tryin' hard, thinkin' of ideas to give my mouse a life.
'How about Mouseville?' the big guard pipes up.
Automatically I query, 'Mouseville?'
Boss says, 'Tourist attraction down in Florida. Tallahassee, I think. Is that right, Paul? Tallahassee?' He looks at Boss Edgecomb, who has this real weird expression on his face.
'Yeah, that's right. Tallahassee. Just down the road apiece from the dog university.'
Deep inside of me, I know they're lying, just pulling this shit out of their imaginations so that perhaps the last of my time on this earth would be a lil' better. There are two parts of me here. One is the part of me, that little French child living in Louisiana, barely speaking any English, believin' in anythin'. The other part of me is the more realistic part. I'm an evil killer and a rapist and an arsonist, that's exactly what I am, and fuckin' with me isn't so easy. I know they're not tellin' any truth. But still I appreciate how they're tryin' to make me feel.
I can see the big guard's face. His mouth twitches slightly and I can tell he's tryin' real hard to make a straight face, and that he has in his mind this great big grin. He also gives Boss Edgecomb the eye. He's thinkin', Don't fuck this up for him.
'You think they'd take Mr. Jingles? You think he got the stuff?' asks the big guard.
Edgecomb says, 'Might. He's pretty smart.'
I decide to play alon' with dem. 'Hey! What dis Mouseville?'
The big guard takes this conversation. 'Tourist attraction, I said. They got this big tent you go in to -'
'Like a cirque? You have to pay?'
'You shittin' me? Course you pay. Dime a piece, two cents for the kids. And inside the tent there's this mouse city made out of boxes and toilet paper rolls. Plus they got the Mouseville All-Star Circus. There's mice that swing on trapeze, mice that roll barrels, mice that stack coins...'
Too good to be true. But of course, I still clung on to that childish fantasy...
'Dat's it! Dat's the place for Mr. Jingles! You gonna be a circus mouse after all! Gonna live in a mouse city in Florida!' I explode with happiness. I knew that Mr. Jingles could understand me, and he too, was overjoyed.
I toss the spool with every bit of force in my body. It slams against the wall and bounces off of it, and then goes through the bars and in to the hall. My mouse goes after it with anticipation, too focused on the spool to hear the footsteps of little feet clacking on the green floor.
It's all too much for me to register at once.
The stupid asshole cunt motherfucker piece of shit stamps on my mouse, and one of the only things I ever loved in this world comes to an end with a light snap. I scream and sob in sorrow, throwing myself at the bars and sobbing. I can see out of the corner of my eye that rad bastard smiling at the other two guards, and he gives them this evil smile.
'Knew I'd get him sooner or later. Just a matter of time, really.'
And that bastard just walked away, leaving my mouse die in a pool of his own blood.
'You killed my mouse! You bastard!' I snarl.
He just continued strolling up the mile. Tiny bones, broken, are showing through Mr. Jingles' fur. My grief pours out. Tears start to form in my eyes, but never make it out before Johnny, my best friend here, says, 'Give'm to me.'
John's massive had somehow manages to squeeze out through the bars. All hopeful, I look up. I remember how he made the boss' dick all better. Cured him. Could he maybe...?
'Give'm to me. Might still be time.'
I look at him. I know he doesn't belong here like I do or like Billy the Kid belongs here. I know he didn't do anythin' to get himself in here. I think he must be a miracle. And I trust him.
Boss Edgecomb scoops Mr. Jingles up off of the floor, lettin' out a lil' wince. It's not like I would have been in a better state, though, scooping my dead mouse up off of the floor.
'What are you doing?' asks the big guard.
He doesn't know.
Boss Edgecomb places Mr. Jingles in to John's hand. He pulls him in through the bars. Gently, he places his other hand over it, currping my mouse so that all I can see of him is his little tail hanging out the side.
'Paul, what the hell -'
But the Boss motions silence. Good. Now he can hear me begging.
'Please John, oh Johnny, help him, please help him, s'il vous plait...' I manage to say weakly. I'm on the verge of crying.
Two more guards come over and watch. Now we have more of an audience.
He inhales and puts his mouth near his hands. He raises his head and I can hear these sounds of him choking, and I'm about to reccomend somebody giving him the monouver...
Surprisingly, the big guard notices before I do.
'Oh, dear Jesus. The tail. Look at the tail.'
The tail is vibrantly full of life, full of movement, and back and forth it goes, back...forth. Back. And forth.
But John. I sure hoped he was okay. He made this gagging sound as if he were trying to cough something up. Just like last time, out of him comes these black insects, and we all watch in awe as the turn white and then...they're nowhere to be found.
The tall man bends down and releases my mouse. He's so happy, scampering through the bars and over to my cell. I laugh and cry and I hold my darling mouse. Me and my low attention span. I was so in to Mr. Jingles right then I couldn't have cared less of a shit about what everyone else was up to.
And then the tiny guard came back to my cell again. He saw me playin' with Mr. Jingles, and this was the second most fucking priceless expression I've ever seen in my life. I give him my best 'Cava bien' smile and he fucks off, speechless. John Coffey smiles at me from the other cell.
And I spend my last time on this earth sayin' my good byes.
It's pissing rain out. I can hear the thunder clap up in the sky. The thought of electricity isn't helpin' me much. These last few days haven't been so bad, especially since I've spent it with people who I knew don't hate me, and, I know that these people are the first in my life that haven't viewed me as a monster. But witnessing my execution would be all those people who hated me with the passion of the burning sun and...
...And I couldn't blame them. Who could blame them?
And that was the worst part about it.
I lovingly stroke and pet my mouse between his ears. His whiskers twitch. I want to keep him as close to me as I possibly can. After this, I'd never see him.
Boss Paul, Boss Brutal, and Boss Harry appear in front of my cell.
'Hi, boys,' I greet them. 'Say hi, Mr. Jingles.'
I know it breaks the Boss' heart to do this to me. Somehow. I have decided to face my death with dignity and without fear. I'll accept what is and what will never be.
'Eduard Delacroix, will you step foward?' Boss Edgecomb asks.
'Boss Edgecomb?' I had a question for him.
'Don' let nothin' happen to Mr. Jingles, okay?'
He nods, and I know he's sincere. It's a deal, then. I rise from my seat and step to Boss Edgecomb.
'Here, take him.'
I put my hand up and Mr. Jingles walks on to Paul's shoulder without even thinking about it. Good. Mr. Jingles likes him.
I know he means no offense by what he says next. 'Del. I can't have a mouse on my shoulder while...you know.'
John pipes up. 'I'll take him, boss. Jus' for now. If Del don' mind.'
That sounds like a good decision to me. 'Yeah, you take 'im, John. Take 'im til dis foolishment done...bien!' I regret saying to this to the Bosses in some way. 'After, you take him down to Florida. To dat Mouseville?'
Brutal is a little hesitant while answering. 'We'll do it together, most likely. Maybe take a little vacation time.'
Then Mr. Jingles is understand when Paul moves over to John's cell and runs in to John's big hand.
I won't shut the fuck up in immaturity. 'People pay a dime apiece to see him. Two cents for the kiddies. Ain't dat right, Boss Howell?'
'That's right, Del.'
They're both liars, that's fer sure. But I understand. 'You're a good man, Boss Howell. You too, Boss Edgecomb. Wish I coulda met you bot' somewhere else.'
I look at my mouse for the last time, and, being the big whirlwind of patheticness that I am, I start to cry. 'Au revoir, mon ami. Je t'aime, mon petit.'
And that was the end.
Down comes the rain. The clouds are spitting it out, emptying theirselves. It hits the roof. I'm glad I can't hear what those people are sayin' about me.
Then I see him. The Boss Percy. That cunt piece of shit...why, if I had a knife...no, better yet, I'd throw him in to the cell with crazy ass Billy...I'm horrified, though. To have him be the one to kill me. Why couldn't I have been killed by somebody else? I guess that was my punishment.
Boss Edgecomb gives my arm a squeeze and I know he's trying to reassure me that everything'll be alright. But it's not working. My legs are loose and I think my limbs are falling apart with every step I take, and my stomach and head aren't much better. Edgecomb leads me foward...
...And I make it to Old Sparky.
Clamps are used and I'm bound to the chair real tight. It's good that I can't move my limbs, because then I'd be shaking like jello.
The bastard says, 'Roll on one.'
The lights are so damn bright...and the machinery hums. So much electricity must have been used to generate this thing. But none of those thoughts are relevant. But still, in spite of the fact that my life is coming to an end, I can feel something else going on. I don't know what it is, though.
Then the bastard says, the hum in the background of his bitchy little voice, 'Eduard Delacroix, you have been condemned to die by a jury of your peers, sentence imposed by a judge of good standing in this state. You have anything to say before this sentence is carried out?'
Yes, yes I do. My lips are chapped. My throat is dry. I open up my mouth to speak but the words don't come out that time. Then I lick my lips, lubricating them, and start over.
'I'm sorry for what I do. I'd give anything but I can't take it back, but I can't. God have mercy on me.' Then I whisper to Paul, 'Don't forget about Mouseville.'
He and Brutus nod and then there solemn looks turn to stunned looks as Percy makes an announcement.
'No such place. That's just a fairy tale these guys told you to keep you quiet. Just thought you should know, faggot.'
I'm stricken severely by this comment, even though I knew all along. Both guards look like they want to punch Percy in the face, which I would have loved to see before I died, but I know that's not gonna happen now. But I can see Edgecomb giving me a look that says 'Je regrette' and I forgive him. I wish I'd given him more recognition, though. I understand. Percy just gives them a look that asks, 'Now what in fuck are you suckers gonna do about it?'
Paul nods to the other guard who takes the black mask from the back of the chair and puts it over my head. There goes my visual. At least now I can't see nobody's face. Only the top of my bald scalp is ecposed.
Then what feels like a dry sponge is put on top of my head. I'm unfamiliar with the procedure, so I don't question them. The thunder I can hear makes a loud boom and lightning I know came before that.
'Electricity shall now be passed through your body until you are dead, in accordance with state law. God have mercy on your soul.'
I can hear Edgecomb's agonizing scream of 'No' and I know only a bad thing has come afoot, but before I have the chance to think about it, Boss Percy says, 'Roll on two.'
A flick of a switch. Zap!
An extremely large amount of physical pain zooms throughout my entire body, and I find myself tipping foward, biting my lip and trying my hardest not to scream. I don't think I've ever had pain this excruciating in my life, and I lean foward. I hear a loud crackling sound. I feel like I'm on fire and I can smell smoke. I can't pay attention to anything but myself and all the pain I'm in, and in the chair I fidget, my face moving harshly and abruptly from side to side, my legs moving. Please...I beg of you! Please make this pain go away! I can smell my own burning skin and I can hear a pop. My face! Oh...mercy! Have mercy!
And an awful, animallike scream erupts through the room, and I'm terrified. I continue to try to get out of the restraints. I eventually come to the realization that the hysterical screaming I'm hearing is escaping my own mouth, and I'm being burned and pained in to oblivion. And I know the pain isn't over. I'm slamming back and forth in the chair. I can hear my bones breaking. Screams of terror besides mine. I now cannot see even blackness. My face is in flame literally.
And then...the pain dies. Instead, I don't quite feel numb, but rather, something pleasant, and I feel myself drifting, drifting through darkness made beautiful by the opalescent moonlight. I don't know where I'm going. I can only hope that here I will rest undisturbed. Forever.
All I know is that I've reached the end of the mile. I'm done now.
But for the others, there are still games to be played.
Del's point of view of his own death. I cried at this part in the movie. Del and John are my favorite characters in the movie, and they all die at least once. I don't think Del should have died the way he did, so in his honor, I wrote this. The title translates to me 'Good bye, I love you'. I think I did an awful job on making Del's thoughts match up with his quotes. Though I did use some French to make it a bit better. I hope you all enjoyed.