Moments Before Execution.

Imagine My Life in That Man's Hands While He's Just Decidin'

Is this the right spot? Is this where I'm supposed to be? I can't see anything. Where are they? Wasn't it supposed to happen by now? Why'd we have to do this today? It's Martin Luther King Day; that's bad mojo anyway you claim it. Where are they; it's getting late. God I'm hungry; I should've eaten before I came. At least I don't have to pee. That'd be bad. Maybe not as bad as that time I had gas and almost blew it. I still can't believe they thought it was a pelican. I didn't miss it, did I? Of course not, I've been here the whole time; I would've HEARD something. Right there. Over there by those leaky pipes - I wonder what that is; probably water, but it don't look like water - I hope it wasn't those OTHER leaky pipes downstairs! No, no, he told me specifically: second floor, inside the air duct with the grill that had the red painted bar. Still, what if something went wrong? What if they were jumped outside? What if they were hijacked from their car? What if ... this is all a set-up against ME? No, why would they do that and then give me a gun - it IS loaded, right? Yeah, it's loaded. This isn't a set-up. But still, what's taking so fucking long? I'm getting pretty sick and fucking tired of waiting here! They always make me do this. Leave me sitting - crouching - in some dark, smelly, leaky warehouse until they decide to grace me with their fucking - oh shit!