I sit here in the middle of the room. Feeling great, a million dollars.
'You got it?' some punk says, itching to get a good look at me.
He thinks he owns me, but I'm nothing to him. Tomorrow someone else will be pining over me.
'First things first,' this other guy says.
He's been loitering in the corner, his eyes all over me. After a piece of the action too of course.
'May I?' he continues. This is the bit I hate. They leer and feel me up. I shiver as their greedy fingers run through me. They want to make sure I'm the real deal.
A moth flutters from the other guys jacket and he looks like he's going to do something stupid. The moth, he just circles the bulb above, swinging his wings about.
These guys have thrown themselves under cars just for a look at me. They have killed and been killed to get close.
But they never stay close for long.
I will never settle down.
This guy has been pretty good to me. I like to be kept on show. Keeps me fresh and keeps him edgy.
I must have been burning a hole in him.
'I want to see it first,' my man says. Must be having trouble letting go.
The other punk has seen me now. His eyes say he can't leave without me. He's fallen for me big time. They always have that same look. It lets me know they will do anything.
'Not until I've checked she's all there,' this desperado says, as he edges towards me.
'Looks like we have a problem.'
These kids pull out their toy guns and I pray for a bloodbath. Just don't spray anything my way.
I want to see all these scumbags suffer.
The way they have treated me and my poorer brothers and sisters down the years. Passing us around like so much loose change.
We are more than that. We can work for each other.
You just have to go for everything at once. All right now.
'Show me it. Then we can get the hell out of here.'
This idiot he pours over. He gets a feel of what I would look like in his hand. Imagining what he is going to do with me.
'Ok,' he says, and drags these two cases over from the door. Opens them up.
'Excellent,' my guy says, as he leers at me one last time.
He goes over to the cases. They are full of guns.
I'm worth more than that. Not that I would want to put a value on it. But it suits me fine. Just watch all you beggars kill yourselves.
He starts to make for the door, a case in each hand and sweat on his brow.
My new man pokes me, his greasy fingers leaving their mark. He's the desperate, clingy type. Sometimes hard to shake.
'Don't move,' he says, holding up a handful of me, guns pointing at this cheap-skates head. 'Where's the rest?'
The cases drop to the floor.
'I need this stuff. I can get the rest in a couple a days.'
The gun gets closer to blowing his brains out.
'Screw that. We had a deal.'
He draws his piece and they are both dead.
And I am all alone. But I will never be free.