deadheadphones one shots

[deadheadphones]

Okay, so my name is jessica
not*okay from tbp.net
and i write one shots.
If you want one just ask. i do take requests.
i will post the 2 i had on tbp.net

rating- 15+'s for sex drugs and just bad stuff.

drug,chemical,dead - pg 1
truckstops are Shi.t. - pg 1

[deadheadphones]

Drug, Chemical, Dead.

“I needed a hit. Now. f**ksakes, I haven’t paid the dealer, since like. I don’t know. GET THAT f**kING CAMERA OUT OF MY FACE!” I got out of my chair and threw the camera across the cold black room. People, in uniform, ran in the black room. Tackling me down. The ceiling turned in to clouds, suddenly I was flying. Greatest feeling in the world. No one was holding me back. This is what I wanted in life. Or was it? Gerard stop ruining this high. Talking to your self now aren’t you? I open my eyes. The sun is shining in them. I can’t see anything but the light. A finger pulled my eyes open. Dropping the other eyelid. I relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

I never woke up.

Producers Pov.

Gerard was on the show “Intervention,” his was one of the sadder stories. One of the few deaths we have had on the show. We have hidden most of them. The media wanted to know about this one though. Gerard turned back to drugs at age 43. He is now at age 51, and is taking up to 3 hits a day. Gerard just took a hit, he is hallucinating now. He got up from his chair. Picked up the camera and threw it. We called 911 since he was getting violent, and the camera landed on my brother’s foot, almost breaking it. Paramedics rushed in. Getting Gerard down on a stretcher. Gerard struggled with them, ending up with him on the floor. When the paramedics went to pick him up, for now he was frail from all the drug use, making it very easy. Gerard started to flap his arms, trying to fly away. The paramedics put a calming medicine in him so he would stop before he hurt him self, or others. We laid him on the stretcher now, and pushed him in to the ambulance. The main paramedic pulled open his eye and shined the flash light in his left eye. It was limp. Then in his right eye. Rolling around in the back of his head. f**k, he wasn’t going to make it. The loud beeps slowly crawled to a stop.

He never woke up.

[deadheadphones]

truckstops are shi,t


The old crippled man slowly and painfully crawled over to the door of the truck stop. That truck stop has been here for over 80 years, at least. The man looked 20 year older than the truck stop. His tattoos were faded, his clothing baggy, and his beard like a birds nest. His hazel eyes poked out under his bushy eyebrows. He reminded me of my grandfather. I recognized his face from my sister’s poster. He used to be that guitar player, from that band you know. I think it was “chemical loving?” I don’t know. I was obsevering this mysterious man though the security cameras. Sure enough he was pulling a crack pipe out of his coat. He sat down on the old duck tape chair, lighting up. I hoped he didn’t go into the store where I was. I was working alone; my husband wasn’t working since he was sick.

Wait the man was leaving the truck stop. What’s the lump in his jacket? What the f**k. The glass door opened. The tattooed guy walked in. Oh, thank god, another trucker pulled in to fuel up his truck. The tattooed one wouldn’t try anything stupid now, would he? The younger trucker, the one that had just pulled in, was pumping his gas. I fiddled with the gun that was hidden under the counter. Could I take a mans life even if he was going to take mine? The young trucker walked in, paid for the gas, and left.

There goes my chance of escape.

The weathered man looks misplaced in my clean white store. He staggered though the aisles. Taunting me. Moving slowly, I’m not sure if time was just going slow for me or if he was really walking slows. His hand fiddled with something under his coat, pulling out his gun. I slowly reached for the gun, still holding in under the desk.
“Please don’t do this,” I pleaded with him.
I heard his crinkled voice for the first time.
“Well it isn’t that much fun staring down a loaded gun is it?” His hand slowly lifted his hand with the gun, I mirrored his action. I pulled the trigger hoping to blow him away.

I didn’t, but he pulled the trigger. Hitting me in the chest. He started to yell.

“WATCH ME,”

He swiped his finger though the crimson liquid draining from my body. He started to swipe his finger in it, and writing on the ceiling. He left me to bleed out and die.

[angila]

I read the first one on tbp.net, and loved it, but I've never read the second one! It was equally as awesome!
You're a pro one-shotter, Jessie! <33