he stands in the dark, in front of the glow of the stereo. the empty bag from the record store. this is the cd he bought. as the song ends, creasy hits the back- up button. "blue bayou" begins again. creasy takes the 9mm from its holster. as he sits back in his chair.
creasy sits in the dark with his 'blue bayou'. creasy does not look right. holding the 9mm, he ejects the round, tries to catch it on the back of his hand. no good.
as the song repeats, creasy chambers yet another round. feels like he misses a beat as he loads one shell into the chamber. pinta sings along oblivious. suddenly the barrel is at his forehead and the trigger has been pulled. no gun shot. a click. hammer against shell. creasy is confused. he ejects the shell and catches it in the palm of his hand. macro photograph .  a small dimple on the back of the shell is the only evidence of his actions. pinta still dances.
fingers putting the special bullet into an old matchbox. it takes it place of honor front and center on the shrine. next to the marlboros and scotch. the new testament is set down nearby.
creasy sits in his chair drinking scotch. all alone needless to say.
creasy's finger presses play. "blue bayou" begins. plaintive, haunting. as he moves to sit in his chair, he passes the scotch bottle. it has gone unopened.