chiral
03-26-2004, 05:19 PM
Here's some shit i wrote when i was bored.
u like?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He didn’t know what he signed up for. The black box in the corner pumped out country music like it was rock music. He hated country.
The gum in his mouth began to feel hard. He gave it a few more extra vicious bites and spit it out. He missed the trash can, but he didn’t think anyone cared. From his pocket he produced another stick of gum. He hated the old-school “sticks”, the pellets were so much better. He stripped off the fire-engine red skin and popped the pink stick onto his tongue. Whatever got the taste of blood out of his mouth was good enough for him. The cinnamon pepper taste assaulted his taste buds and he caught himself humming along to the horrible country tune. He mentally slapped himself. If he had a gun he would riddle the fucking box with holes.
Things would be so much easier if he had a gun.
If he had a gun, he wouldn’t have the taste of blood in his mouth right now. If he had a gun, he wouldn’t have signed on this shady deal. If he had a gun, he wouldn’t have to listen to this fucking country shit.
He stood, threw the gum wrapper into the trash, and headed for the box.
“So what’s his deal?” Taylor asked, her eyes on the boy as he swaggered toward the radio.
“He’s what we are looking for.” Jerome took a drag on the Camel.
“How can you tell?” Taylor sipped on her green tea. She hated smoke but that never stopped Jerome before, so she stopped trying to object.
“I was there when he tore out the poor sob’s throat, with his teeth.”
“Run that by me again?” Taylor raised a perfect eyebrow.
Jerome threw his hands in the air like he always did when he was exasperated by women’s need for him to repeat things. “Okay, I was walking down Young and Twenty-Fourth--”
“What were you doing walking down the murder district?”
“What the fuck do you think? It’s the perfect place to pick up candidates.”
“Watch your language. You packing?”
“Pfft, of course I’m packing.” Jerome waved his cigarette in the air, “I’m wearing a Kevlar vest, got a Desert Eagle modified for hollow rounds and a Colt-45 for backup. Plus I got two knives hidden in my shoes and an electric taser in case I was feeling generous and didn’t want to kill anyone.”
“Push your machismo elsewhere, Jay. Get on with the story.” Taylor hid her smile with the china cup.
“All right, all right, woman, be like that. So I was walking down the street and I see him.” Jerome nodded toward the boy, who was playing with the radio dial.
u like?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He didn’t know what he signed up for. The black box in the corner pumped out country music like it was rock music. He hated country.
The gum in his mouth began to feel hard. He gave it a few more extra vicious bites and spit it out. He missed the trash can, but he didn’t think anyone cared. From his pocket he produced another stick of gum. He hated the old-school “sticks”, the pellets were so much better. He stripped off the fire-engine red skin and popped the pink stick onto his tongue. Whatever got the taste of blood out of his mouth was good enough for him. The cinnamon pepper taste assaulted his taste buds and he caught himself humming along to the horrible country tune. He mentally slapped himself. If he had a gun he would riddle the fucking box with holes.
Things would be so much easier if he had a gun.
If he had a gun, he wouldn’t have the taste of blood in his mouth right now. If he had a gun, he wouldn’t have signed on this shady deal. If he had a gun, he wouldn’t have to listen to this fucking country shit.
He stood, threw the gum wrapper into the trash, and headed for the box.
“So what’s his deal?” Taylor asked, her eyes on the boy as he swaggered toward the radio.
“He’s what we are looking for.” Jerome took a drag on the Camel.
“How can you tell?” Taylor sipped on her green tea. She hated smoke but that never stopped Jerome before, so she stopped trying to object.
“I was there when he tore out the poor sob’s throat, with his teeth.”
“Run that by me again?” Taylor raised a perfect eyebrow.
Jerome threw his hands in the air like he always did when he was exasperated by women’s need for him to repeat things. “Okay, I was walking down Young and Twenty-Fourth--”
“What were you doing walking down the murder district?”
“What the fuck do you think? It’s the perfect place to pick up candidates.”
“Watch your language. You packing?”
“Pfft, of course I’m packing.” Jerome waved his cigarette in the air, “I’m wearing a Kevlar vest, got a Desert Eagle modified for hollow rounds and a Colt-45 for backup. Plus I got two knives hidden in my shoes and an electric taser in case I was feeling generous and didn’t want to kill anyone.”
“Push your machismo elsewhere, Jay. Get on with the story.” Taylor hid her smile with the china cup.
“All right, all right, woman, be like that. So I was walking down the street and I see him.” Jerome nodded toward the boy, who was playing with the radio dial.