The Consequences Of A Lead Migraine Essay

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The Consequences Of A Lead Migraine Essay, Research Paper The Consequences of a Lead Migraine He looked as his watch, a drop of sweat dripping from his forehead, his heart beating 20 to the dozen. McNeill was scared as hell. It wasn?t his first mission for the LAPD SWAT team, but it was possibly one of the most scary. Set in a cramped house, with nothing but darkness all around (The LAPD don?t ?negotiate? with terrorists, they said) he crawled past another darkened room, his MP5 constantly raised in preparation for a gunfight. The fact that he felt ill didn?t help either, and McNeill tried to put it down as the flu that had been going round the precinct. He checked his watch again. 3 minutes until the terrorists execute another hostage. ?Damn?? he muttered under his breath.

?Russian extremists, bunch of fools. Why can?t they just get JOBS!? McNeill angrily thought to himself. Frantically, he checked his watch again. ?Good,? he thought ?30 seconds till rendezvous? He rounded the corner and spotted the rest of his team. They were crouched around a locked door, with Agent Johanssen setting up plastic explosives on the door. ?Stand back, it?s gonna blow? Johanssen’s voice crackled down the Comm system. The soft hiss of the fuse got faster and faster, McNeill held his breath. Any second now? And then he felt a hand on his shoulder. McNeill turned his head, only to hear the door blow open behind him. As he turned, he saw an ominous figure standing with a toothpick in between his teeth. The face, was?was almost skull like? ?Morning son, how?s you?? Death

said cheerily McNeill stood in silence. All kinds of random thoughts rushed into his head, but the first one was to run away. As he spun round to run, a small red light centred on his head. He looked up, only to hear the click and shut of the firing mechanism in the gun, and a silenced bullet escaping a barrel somewhere in the room. He closed his eyes tightly shut? A sudden sensation of being caught in a gust of wind hit McNeill. He felt as though he was being thrust upward, toward the sky. He opened his eyes to see what was going on. He wished he hadn?t. Because were he was didn’t make him too happy. As he looked around, he realised he was in some kind of lift -a glass elevator to be precise- and was hurtling towards the sky at hundreds of miles per hour. He turned around to

see Death leaning against the walls of the elevator, cursing profanely under his breath at something or other. Death looked up, embarrassed. Death began what appeared to be a speech that had been said over and over until it quite literally bled from Death?s mouth. ?Behold ye, ye dead spirit. For thoust are dead. Thy hath been chosen by God to join him in his armies of heaven. May thoust have a good eternity? Death appeared to say this with such lacklustre appeal, that McNeill wondered if this was for real. ?So in other words I?m?? McNeill began Death cut in, ?Yes. You snuffed it, you?re dead, you hit the big one, you caught the last taxi, you?re pushing up the daisies, you?re riding the last train. You. Are. DEAD.? ?Oh, and I think you owe me a new tooth pick.? Death added.

McNeill slumped against the walls of the elevator, attempting to put these things in perspective in his brain. ?This? this is all so? so soon? McNeill stuttered ?Ah well? poor you. At least you didn?t have to crucify Jesus Christ.? Death quipped sarcastically. The elevator slowed to halt, and with a loud ?DING!? it stopped. The doors opened, and hissed Star Trek style. They stepped out of the lift and onto a silver road. The horizon was dotted with clouds, and the air was fresh and relieving. McNeill breathed a sigh of relief; being in a lift with Death wasn?t his ideal vacation. As he began to think of his ideal vacation, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Death pointed towards a bright light in the distance. Somewhere near the horizon, a large golden arch reached out of the silver