“Three minutes”
Joseph, sitting next to me, reads the time off of a stop watch.
The people sit inside the restaurant while we sit outside in a black Lincoln. They couldn’t find us if they tried.
The license plates were stolen off an SUV in a rental car lot. We can only see the people’s silhouettes as they sit inside eating rack of lamb or shrimp scampi. Probably some pretentious food that’s overpriced, they’re trying to be exotic.
Talking and smiling. Lifting there forks up and down from their plates to their mouths.
The dynamite attached to the bottom of each table, and wrapped around the support beams of the three story building should do the trick.
“Two minutes”
People are starving around the world, not that you didn’t know that already.
We go on diets, we get fat. Other people around the world don’t have the choice to go on a diet. We have to cut back on our access of food supply; the others can hardly stand up because of a lack of food.
Some people have trouble getting the waiters attention; others have trouble fighting through the crowds when the UN drops bags of rice near their town via helicopter.
I want to make a difference my own way, not the way our parents taught us.
“One minute”
My palms are staring to sweat; I’m just excited.
Where did I get the nerve to do this? Somewhere in my life, my positive energies turned negative I guess.
I just need to get the world’s attention and tell them the truth about what they’re doing.
“Thirty seconds”
Any last words? No? Ok, maybe you’ll thank me when it’s all over.
“Twenty seconds”
This is just the beginning; soon this five star restaurant will be gone and will only exist in your memory. But it won’t be the end of me; I still have work to do.
“Ten seconds”
With me face pressed against the car window, I can almost taste the progress I’ve made.
The sad thing is that they don’t know what they’ve done to deserve this; but I do, I know it all.
“Five seconds”
This is the sound of a man who finally stood up!
“3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .”
Bang, like a lightning bolt blasted throughout the whole building. The windows of the restaurant shattered and flashed outward through the air. Fire shot through the whole building and jumped out the windows like an Olympic hurdler. All of this happened in an instant, and the pulse of it rang through the air like a subwoofer that shook the car window. Now all you could see in the three story building was fire and a collapsed roof.
I jammed the car into gear and drove away with the tires screeching behind me.
From a pyrotechnic point of view, it was beautiful.
From a humanity point of view, it was a horrible tragedy.
From a media point of view, they might call it terrorism maybe, maybe not.
From my point of view, drastic yes, necessary maybe. How many people were in that building? Damn, I need to think bigger.