by C.E. Wilder
A strange execution takes place in a small suburban town.
Well, all the green things died when Ronnie moved to this place
He said, "Don't you dare ask why I'm cursed to wear this face."
Now we all know why the children called him Ronnie Frown
When he pulled that gun from his pocket they all fall down, down, down
Ronnie shuffled his way across the platform, looking up just in time to watch the sun set behind the noose awaiting him. The town had put the makeshift gallows together as quickly as they could. Ronnie wasn't even sure it would stand long enough to strangle him, but what did that matter? If they failed the first time, he was sure they'd have fun thinking up another way to kill him.
"Ronnie Frown! Ronnie Frown! Had a smile but pushed it down!"
Ronnie's head snapped towards the audience to search frantically for the source of the chant. His wide, dark eyes swept the crowd, searching for a pair of baby blues, lip pulled into a venomous sneer. A sea of toothy grins blurred into one as his eyes rolled, laughter and cheers drowning out the sound of the familiar chant.
There! He thought he saw her hiding behind her father. That infuriating, golden haired brat! Ronnie made for the end of the platform suddenly, but the man behind him jabbed him in the back with his gun, directing him back to his fate. With a low growl, Ronnie continued his solemn march, cursing under his breath. It wouldn't the first time he'd told this town to go fuck itself, but it might be the last. He turned to face them again as he waited for the noose to be fitted around his neck. Beyond the manic crowd, houses blinked at him in shades of pastel blue and pink while bright green lawns glared back, judging him for the dark red scarring their lush perfection. I man stood with a hose, trying to wash it away.
The volunteer executioner cinched the noose tight, bringing his attention back to the present. He closed his eyes tight as the block beneath is feet wobbled. The breath held around him was palpable. They waited impatiently. And just like that, he block was kicked from beneath his feet unceremoniously. The moment the rope snapped taut, he heard another voice, clear through the cheers.
"Oh, Ronnie," his mother's voice tutted. "What will I ever do with you?"
Ronnie's eyes snapped open and the last thing he saw before his neck snapped was his mother's smile as she drew a finger in a curve over her pearly whites.