The question is, "what does he want"

I woke up stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor all night. I got to my hands and knees, then with the help of my rocking chair, I climbed to my feet. I removed my lap-blanket from the back of my chair, then with my eyes closed I slowly walked to the wine cabinet until I bumped into it. Eyes tightly closed, I threw the blanket over the mirrored door. 

My stomach growled, and i realized I hadn't eaten my supper. In the kitchen I found the steak cold and stuck to the frying pan. I dumped it into the trash, along with the wilted salad. I settled for a bowl of cold cereal. After I finished eating I washed all the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

From the wine cabinet I took down the bottle of wine I'd been saving for a special occasion. I unscrewed the cap and poured a healthy glass full. I placed it, and the bottle on the tv tray next to my recliner. I then went to my bedroom, got down on my knees and dragged out the wooded box from under my bed. I flipped up the latch and opened the box. There, wrapped in a large handkerchief, was a .22 caliber Ruger. I unwrapped the gun and checked the cylinder. The gun was fully loaded.

Back in the living room, I sat down in the recliner, the gun in my lap, and took a deep drink of the wine. I admit I was a little disappointed with the wine. I expected ten dollar wine to taste much better than my box wine. I leaned my head back and watched the traffic outside. An hour, or maybe three I finished the wine.

It was now time. Time to get rid of that old man for good. I reeled over to the wine cabinet and removed the blanket. There he was, staring back at me. I grinned at him, and he grinned back. Then I put the pistol to my temple.

BANG!

The End

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