He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last. He opened his eyes wide with a murderous stare, as if the roles between him and the soldiers were reversed; him with the gun, and the soldiers with none. He sees one of the soldiers adjust their grip on their gun and the other one wipe the sweat off their damp cheeks. His inscrutable presence was enough to make them quiver. He lets out a sinister smile as the soldiers cock their guns and wait for the officer’s order. The officer raises his hand just above his shoulders, and soon folds his fingers to form a fist. Mitty held his breath as the cracking sound of the Webley-Vickers sent the piercing projectiles straight to his heart. Pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. Without hesitation, he…
“Mister, I’m afraid you have to leave the premises,” a young lad eagerly said. Mitty stares at him with a distraught expression. The young man points at the sign near the door that says, “No Loitering.”
“I’m sorry, I was just waiting for my wife in the drug store,” Mitty said.
“Uhh, this is not a drug store sir,” the young man said.
Mitty discovers that he is in front of a toy store. He observes the jubilant smiles of the little children as they hack and slash each other with the wooden swords. It made sense since the person he is having a conversation with is wearing a colourful vest with stars and cute animals on his name tag.
“Oh, I guess I should start looking for her then,” Mitty said with a nervous smile. He walks away from the toy store without looking back, so he does not see the derisive look from the employee. As Mitty turns the corner to the drug store, he sees his wife exchanging dialogues with a man.
“Speak of the devil,” Mrs. Mitty exclaimed as she cuts off her discussion with the stranger. “Where have you been? I told you to wait for me and you aren’t even capable of accomplishing that one job,” Mrs. Mitty said as she increases the volume of her voice, not caring about the public or the man standing beside her.
“Somewhere,” Mitty softly whimpered. The stranger slowly shuffled away from Mrs. Mitty like an innocent soul desperately attempting to escape the wrath of the demon’s light.
“Get in the car this instant,” Mrs. Mitty demanded. Mitty was staring at the ground, and made a slight nod just enough to illustrate, “yes,” without looking into her eyes. As they drive home, they pass the toy store where Mitty saw that same employee in the building trying to separate the children due to a sword fight that got out of hand. They arrived home, with minimal eye contact between them for the duration of the ride, just as Mitty wanted. “Go get changed and do it quickly. We will be late for the party if we kept getting delayed by your sluggishness,” she said.
“Okay,” Mitty mumbled as he proceeds into the room. He did not execute his task in an abrupt-manner. Instead, he brushes his hair firmly and later became conflicted as to which suit to wear in the party; the black suit or the blue suit?
… Bert and Ernie place the armor around Mitty’s body. “You are crazy. You are no match against it,” Grover exclaimed.
“You underestimate me, my friend. This will be quick,” Mitty said as he puts his helmet on.
“It will kill you,” Grover uttered, “You still have a chance to forfeit, and I recommend that you should take it.”
“Do not doubt me Grover,” Mitty said, “Now hand me my sword.” Grover hands him the divine weapon.
“You think the finest metal of Jeebus is enough to slay it?” Grover asked.
“Even the most powerful weapon would be meaningless if its wielder is weak,” Mitty said as he marches towards the opening gates.
The cheers and the shouting of the audience is deafening, but Mitty focused his attention on his opponent, who is none other than the Devil itself. There were bodies around it; lifeless and covered in blood. The Devil’s sword is leaking blood from the previous victims that it sunk it sharp edges into. Its long, sharp claws are splashed with red. All this violence and not a scratch was inflicted upon it. The Devil looks at Mitty with a malevolent smile. Mitty is paralyzed. He is unable to move any of his body and he became a sitting duck. Sweat runs down his cheeks as he shivers like it is the Arctic. There was nothing he could do except watch as the Devil slowly walks towards him and listen to the crowd shouting, “Kill, kill, kill!” As the Devil drives its sword into Mitty, the crowd goes silent.
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