Procrastination Kills

"Why do I always wait until the last minute to do anything?" James asked himself aloud while driving through the rain. It was midnight and James had just left work. James is 20 years old, a smaller guy, and not very athletic. James is the 4-12 manager at Wendy's and if he isn't at work then he spends most of his time playing video games and reading. It had just started to rain half an hour ago and was just a light rain but his windshield wipers were less than ideal. With less rubber on his wipers than an ultra-thin Trojan, they were causing more of an issue than helping. The wipers going across the windshield sounded like nails on a chalkboard and left messy streaks. Coupled with the cloudy skies and no street lights, James might as well have been driving with sunglasses on. James had bought the replacement wipers two weeks ago but there they still sat in his backseat in the plastic AutoZone bag. The drive home is only 15 miles long thought James, I can make it if I drive slow and pay attention. He cranked up his radio and as Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer screamed through his speakers, he continued through the dark rainy night. The drive home is all back roads, with mostly horse barns, and not many other cars on the road at midnight. About 3 miles into the drive, James noticed that the rain was picking up to a downpour, and it was getting even harder to see anything at this point. He knew there were trees, telephone poles and he always saw deer at this time of night so James pulled his car over and stopped on the side of the road. It was raining too hard now to see anything. He pulled out his iPhone to check the radar, and there was no end in sight. James sat there for a few minutes pondering his options. He could sit in his car for an hour or longer and wait for the rain to let up, he could continue to drive at turtle speed and hope for the best, or he could just change his wipers and be on his way. The most logical choice wasn't his favorite, but he thought it is better to just suck it up and change his wipers. James wasn't a very handy guy, but he figured it couldn't be too difficult. He watched a quick YouTube tutorial, turned on his hazards, zipped up his coat, and out in the rain he went.

A half-mile down the road at Tom's mini-mart lay a woman dead in her own blood. The woman later would be identified as Stacy Green, a 42-year-old mother of two working the midnight shift. Stacy had been in the backroom doing inventory when she surprised a would-be robber, a heroin addict named Rusty rifling through the cash register. Rusty looked frail and thin and wore ripped jeans and a dirt-stained t-shirt, and had track marks up and down his arms that you could play connect the dots with. He is a fiend and will do anything he needs to get his next fix. He had been in and out of jail for the majority of his 27 years of life. Before Stacy could get to the phone, Rusty lunged at her and stuck the knife deep into her chest. As blood started to leak out of the stab wound, Stacy fell to the floor and Rusty slit her throat. As Stacy lay dying in a pool of her own blood like a slaughtered animal, Rusty grabbed the last of the money and was gone leaving Stacy to die.

As James continues to try replacing his windshield wipers, the rain is picking up harder and is now windy. Trying to hold his flashlight in one hand, and put the wipers on with the other hand was beginning to be impossible. The replacement wipers are not like he remembered where you just slide the old worn down rubber piece off and slide the new one on. The new ones had certain clips to go onto the wiper itself, and James said "Fuck it" and decided to get back in his car and wait it out. As James sat scrolling through social media posts, Rusty lurked close by.

Rusty had left the mini-mart after murdering Stacy, and he was walking down the road when he saw a black Honda on the side of the road with its hazard lights on. At this point, Rusty was seriously Jonesing for his next fix and was fed up with walking in the rain. He walked up slowly along the driver's side of the car, and as he got closer he saw the reflection of James' phone. Between the sound of the rain, and the complete darkness James never saw Rusty coming. Rusty made up his mind that he was going to kill whoever is in the car and take it. He continued walking until he was right in front of the driver's side window, and before James could even see him, Rusty smashed the window with the butt of his knife and plunged the knife twice into the left shoulder area of James. Rusty opened the door, stabbed James twice in his stomach, and pulled him from the car. As James lay in the road bleeding out, his blood and the rain mixed together like a can of tomato soup. Rusty jumped in the car, put it into drive, and not knowing there weren't any windshield wipers on the car, he floored the gas pedal and drove off. Once Rusty realizes there are no wipers it's too late and he slams into a tree and is ejected out of the front windshield and lays dead in the road not far from where James is bleeding out. James is quickly fading and is dying. The last thing James can think of is that he wishes that he didn't wait so long to put his windshield wipers on. Procrastination Kills.