A day in a life

The dynamite sticks were shoved into the loops along the leather belt attached to his body. A single wire ran from each stick to a central connection and from this connection ran the detonating wire along the man's arm to a device that rested in his hand. His thumb hovered over the button which would send the spark of electricity simultaneously into each nitro candle.
"You have your instructions. Remember at the moment of detonation Allah will welcome you into Paradise. I wish it were me," said Ahkmed checking the wire connections.
Mohmar, through profuse sweat, smiled. He was 16. His father had been killed in a riot in Jerusalem two years past. His mother had received shrapnel to her back severing her spinal cord in a separate confrontation of Palestinian and Israeli soldiers.
"It will be a huge explosion, won't it?" he said. His voice quavered.
"Stand up! Strengthen yourself! It is Allah's work you do. He smiles on you. Your life here is nothing but misery inflicted by Israeli dogs. I would be honored to do this but I have important business for our brother Palestinians. You were chosen when you volunteered."
"Will my brother be there to greet me?" Mohmar's brother had been shot in last week's raid on the Israeli camp.
"Of course he will. He died for his brothers. Paradise was immediately his. All right. Here is your jacket. It covers the bomb nicely. You'll just walk into the market at noon and yell Allah be praised, then push the red button with your thumb. You will kill many. That bomb should take out two city blocks."
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Today, I have to mow the grass. Then I have to clean the yard. My dad wants me to wash his car. Shit! Why does this always happen to me when I want to go to the mall.
There. My FB entry for this morning. It's so comforting to be able to pound out my anger in this site.

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Mohmar walked with his head held high into the street. It was 11:30. Ahkmed walked with him to the corner then turned in the opposite direction. He picked up his pace. When Mohmar turned for encouragement his mentor was nowhere to be seen. He slowed his steps. Twelve o'clock was fast approaching. I've been in this world sixteen years and all that time lead to this moment. I will do something of great importance here. As he walked he looked into the pram beside the street lamp. The baby looked into his face and cooed a laughing gurgle.
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Let's see I have to go to the market to get everything for the dinner tonight. My husband's boss likes his vegetables crisp and plenty of them. This promotion could mean doubled salary, so it has to be perfect. So have to leave you now FB to shop.
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The baby's smile brought tears to Mohmar's eyes. He'd had a baby brother but at six months he'd died of fever. The market was in sight now.

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Why, oh why, can't I find anything on this TV? 150 channels and nothing to see. I'll just check FB.

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LIfe was hard here for his people. He looked at the Coke machine as he passed. His throat was parched. "Damn Americans. Always helping the people in power and never giving us a thought except to take our money in these machines." He stopped and kicked a dent in the machine.

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My girlfriend dumped me today. After 2 years she dumped me. What the hell happened? She saw someone else she wanted more that's what. He makes a salary twice mine and drives a Porsche. And we were so much in love. What happened FB?

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The market was bustling today. All the stalls were filled with buyers chucking money into the vendors' hands. Arguments sounded in all corners as each tried to get the best value from the other.
Mohmar looked at the clock on the shelf next to him. "Want a nice clock, boy?' asked the seller.
"No." he said. The clock read 11:50. "Is the time right on this clock?'
"Yes, of course it is. It keeps very good time. I'll give it to you for a good price."
"I don't need your clock."


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Dammit I was up til 3 this morning. I just couldn't sleep. I have that big test in 2 days and can't seem to understand any of it. What the hell do I care about parsecs and tachyons? I'll just go on line and write up another entry.

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11:55. Sweat matted his clothing. Five more minutes. What does one do for five minutes when he knows they are his last? Mohmar wiped his hands on his jacket and tensed his thumb over the button.

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Donna and I are going to the movie. It's the one they've been advertising for a month now on TV. Oh, you know. With, uh, hmmmm.. I can't remember now but it ought to be good. I'll check TV That ad's been running every half hour lately.
News is on. Some kid just blew himself up in a Jerusalem market. 300 people killed. How awful.
Oh here it is. At the bijou. Tell you all about it when we get back, FB.
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