God is Dead

Mene Thecel Phares

*On a typical humid day, mid-summer,  in Keram's mini-office/living room, wrapped around with posters of Crysis, Counter Strike and other legendary video games. There was a loud music played in background. It was Don't Stay by Linkin Park*

"Scorching day?" asked Keram with a mouthful of cereal. Focused on his bowl like it was his last meal after a summer day. Enjoying the loud song with a modest headbang.

"Whew.. Dammit, Ram, how can they enjoy firing at this kind of temperature?" Replied Ted, panting like a dying old dog yet sweating like a pig. He unstrapped from a huge-ass military-type sports bag.

"Well. Let's just say that they enjoy firing in any temperature. They actually prefer warmer fields for more intense action experience. You know what the customers want."

Ted opened the fridge, rummaged in like a mechanic and reached for the 1.5L Cola.

"Ohh for crying out loud, leave some for me Teddy bear!"

"Drinking from this bottle means 'You're welcome for delivering the ammo re-orders nice and hot." and Ted chugged it like refilling a thirsty gas tank. 

Keram has been working his ass off for almost 3 years now. His businesses were almost stable. Some days the income were just below the profit margin, sometimes they were high. Typical business income fluctuation. He just can't choke people to get in his firing range for some fun, and then chill in his inland resort's pool after.

Managing business at his age of mid-twenties isn't new, but it isn't that common too. Most millenials would just be at their silly, and stinky couches lying drunk with their puke all over their faces and others would be working monotonous corporate jobs. But Keram and Ted weren't like most of millenials. Best of friends since high school, they were ambitious entrepreneurs. Always seeking higher ground and not willing to wait for apples to drop into their backyard. They'd grab a ladder and hack the entire branch. 

Inland resort and gun firing range seems to be a fair business start up for them two. Keram owns 80% of the two properties, 20% for Ted. Keram saved a decent amount of money from working on a cargo ship and purchased 2 commercial lots after a few years of work. Ted contributed to pool funds with Keram after inheriting some of his dad's assets. 

But one share one thing they liked in common. GUNS! 

"So how's the range doing?" Asked Ted after wiping his cola-wet lips.

"Well. You wouldn't be claiming re-orders of ammos if they were hitting the floor right?" uttered Keram with his mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah very funny. No seriously, how much have we made this day?" 

"Around 320 bucks. Including the income from the paintball matches."

"Hmm.. Have you been firing some rounds, bruh?" 

"Just a couple of mags." 

"A couple of mags? And I have to carry this entire shitload of ammos in this bag?"

"Come on, Ted. We're profiting above the line. We can't lose having fun, bruh. We're still young as hell. Remember?"

"Aright. I'll go have a swim then." Ted wiped his sweat.

"Whew.. You sure have to go shower first before immersing yourself. Otherwise, I'd have to tell the pool guys to pour in 1 bag of chlorine powder more. Hahahaha!"

"Fuck you, bruh."  and Ted left. 

Not in the mood, eh? Keram thought. Well it's a hot day. He's tired. Most of the guys at the field and pool would be hot-headed as well in this kind of hot and humid tropical temp. Still with his eyes fixed to the bowl, Keram enjoyed his last spoonful of cereal. The TV is on, but there's not much interesting show to watch.