New year (nearly) and new opportunities to challenge myself. I'm in for my first Thunderdrome challenge.
|# ¿ Dec 31, 2013 18:47|
|# ¿ Jun 19, 2019 01:12|
Block 89 1249 words
I push the gun into her head. I feel her push back so I kick her hard in the bottom of her spine. The base of her neck was glistening with sweat, her ponytail was matted with blood. Joey didn't like her tone when we came into the house so he produced a full-stop to her sentence in the shape of a swift smack with the bottom of a 9mm pistol.
The house has no carpet. The walls have mould with more life than half the residents in the block and the dust has settled in all the areas it could.
Her daughter was motionless on the couch clutching a yellow bear with one eye. Behind her sat the orange skyline of Block 89. The huge skyscrapers bursting out of the ground almost like fingers reaching for something better.
The soles of her feet are black. I don't know why I am so upset by this. I tell her to get down and go and wait in her room. She jumps up and in a flash is gone. I see a fresh looking wound on her arm as she goes past. Looks like someone had carved “mine” into her.
“It's been four days Louis. We need to see some of the money”
Joey usually did all of the talking. I wanted to keep my mouth shut, literally at times with the squalor we have to do our work in.
“I have some.” She nods towards a Buddha statue place on the fireplace.
I pop the head off and immediately see a roll of money that was going to mean nobody is going home any time soon.
“It's all I could get, please. I'll get more by next Wednesday. I need to get Lexi working more”
Lexi - her 12-year-old daughter – was known to be working for Louis. I often saw Louis dragging her from door to door of the Block 89 offering her around. Most turned them away. Other times the door stayed open and the two eventually faded into the darkness of the house as the door closed behind them.
I hated these jobs; too much emotion and very little reward. Joey and I had been working together for about 3 years. He can hold his drink and a conversation so I didn't argue with the pairing.
We floated around freelance for a while; hearing jobs in the underground pubs off Block 12, posting cards in the immigrant offices whoring ourselves out whoever could pay. lovely jobs from lovely people. We are good at our jobs so eventually Tony invited us to work for him. Tony owned Block 89 and everyone in it.
The thing with Tony is he liked little girls. He liked to hurt them. I heard some poo poo about how he liked to write his name onto their bodies with a hot knife. I was about ready to shoot this gently caress in the face when I heard but Joey reminded me what was outside of the Block. He was right of course but I didn't like it.
Unfortunately a few days ago Lexi went to see Tony. This meeting didn't go to plan and a refund was requested. We are here now to get it.
“Please, I haven't anything more right now. Why don't you go into her room and have some fun for a while? She isn't very experienced but you can do anything you want to her. She doesn't make a sound.”
I feel the base of my throat become hot with bile. I want to be sick all over this woman. I want to go home and go to sleep and dream of a place away from here.
I mustn’t have put the safety on while searching the house. I haven't been sleeping lately I suppose. That must be it.
Louis' head burst open down the left side, some of her teeth protruded through the hole in her cheek and her tongue was twitching in her blood filled mouth. I kneel down and brush her wet hair away from her eyes.
“What the actual gently caress have you done? Jesus. She's loving dead.”
Louis' pulse collar started to beep, we knew we didn't have much time before the alarm sounded. We needed to get her out of here: an unwarranted death would lead to our bounty collector licenses being revoked and a nice 12 month stint up in Tower 2.
“Get the girl.”
poo poo, Lexi. I knew we had to take her with us; she was a witness and I didn't want her to be left alone either. I knocked on her door and beckoned her out. Her eyes didn't leave the floor as she came to me. She saw her Mum's corpse and I swear for a second I saw a flicker of a smirk.
I hear Joey's gun click behind me. I turn around and feel the wind of a bullet fly past me. A soft fleshy thud makes me turn back towards Lexi. Joey had shot her in the neck. I feel a warm shower of blood up my neck and onto my face. Her eyes meet mine and I catch her before she collapses.
“Joey. Man, what the gently caress are you doing? poo poo.”
Joey wipes the sweat from his forehead and picks Louis' body up.
“C'mon man, we have to get her out of here. They'll think it was robbery or some paedo poo poo or..i don't loving know man, let's go.”
Louis' pulse collar was beeping faster. Every resident over 16 in the Blocks had to have a pulse collar. The crime rate had dropped by 62% in the 3 years they were introduced. If a person's heart rate drops to zero and stays there for 5 minutes an alarm is sounded, the whole floor is shut down and the local block police are called.
I put my finger into the gaping hole in her pale neck. It stemmed the blood slightly but she needs a medic. Lexi's face was glistening with sweat, the orange hue of the dawn sky lit half of her face up. She looked beautiful.
“I'm not going.”
“Get up.” Joey said, switching our radio channel off at the same time. “Come on. Up”
“You shot a kid Joe. A loving child.”
Doors began to open down the corridor. The bleeping loudly fills the air.
“I can't leave without you. I need you to fix this. They'll send me back, I can't leave her here alive.”
“Then shoot me Joey, I can't leave her. It's not right.”
Lexi began to convulse, dark clumps of blood began to ooze from her mouth. She was already dead but I couldn't leave her. She grabs my hand and I pick her up and rest her body against the wall, I pull her legs over mine and scoot underneath to support her. Her nightie has ridden up over her bruised legs. I pull it down.
The beeping from Louis' collar begins to beep so fast it becomes a constant high-pitched screech. Joey pulls his gun up and aims it towards me. He drops Louis' body to my feet and smiles.
“You went crazy. I'd never seen you like this. You started shooting.”
Joey shoots himself in the leg. He drops to the floor.
“I tried to stop you. I didn't want to, man...but.”
He lifts his gun up towards me. I turn to Lexi. She has gone. Who was going to stay with me?
|# ¿ Jan 1, 2014 01:27|
First Thunderdome done and dusted. I need more punishment.
|# ¿ Jan 7, 2014 14:24|
Who Needs Gods 1194 words
“Smash it! Come on you idiot – even Sasha hits harder than that.”
The old Fiat put up more of a fight than Danny could ever match. Danny was all bones - his skin barely clinging to his frame. He was a fighter though and that's why Joe kept him around.
Joe sat on the edge of an old oil barrel, a smirk slowly spread across his face as the bat bounced off the side of the car. The sweat poured from Danny and he hadn't stopped biting his bottom lip since Joe had decided to encourage him.
“Give someone else a go man. You're not even trying.” Joe said.
Sasha was smiling. Joe had to duck the stone she threw at him.
“Typical girl: can't throw for poo poo.”
Sasha threw an insult back but the desert wind caught it. Joe threw some water into his blistered hands and wiped his eyes. The sand was a permanent companion around here but sometimes Joe longed for loneliness.
Danny was swinging the steel bat with everything he had got. Shame it wasn't much.
Joe jumped up and walked over to the car. He made sure to skip when he walked past Sasha, the dirt blew into her.
“Joe, just let...”
Joe grabbed the bat and ushered Danny back. Joe swiped his brown hair from his forehead and got to work; He dented the hood, his anger embedded into it forever; the windows exploded, a piece of glass glanced off Joe's lip. He pinged the side-mirror off and it careered violently into the side of a wall.
Everyone watched Joe. The group had always looked toward him for advice or leadership, he was the oldest at 19-years-old. Age still mattered to some in this world - mostly to the people who needed it to.
Sasha gets up and walks off to the bunker shaking her head as she disappears through the door.
The sound of rhythmic pounding filled the silence as Tommy emerged from the dirt cloud blowing in from the North.
“Dead! Died...someone has dead, died.”
“Slow down. Breathe.” Joe pulled the bent over Tommy up.
“Joe. Someone has died. Up in Birmingham. She was 45 and she died from a heart attack or something.”
Sasha watched from the bunker. She looked around the airfield and the kids were silent. Death hadn't been discussed in this world for a long time. Sasha brushed the dust from her faded red dress and walked towards Joe.
“Joe, is it true?” Sasha said.
“I don't know,” Joe looked off into the distance “I don't think so.”
Sasha ran her fingers up her left arm; the dust fell away as she did. “Yeah, typical bullshit probably. Some kid trying to scare people”
Joe looked off into the distance and he saw huge black clouds that emerged from the Earth, like tumours that spread through the sky, everything left infected. A faint wind started to whip through Sasha's blonde hair.
“Looks like a bad one Joe, I’ll get the spare generator on.” Sasha walked away before Joe could respond.
“I'll get everyone in the bunker. You need anything?” Tommy asked.
“No. Make sure you bring some blankets in before you shut the store room.”
Tommy was 16-years-old - although in this world your age didn't matter: it was what you could do that counted.
Joe met Tommy a few years back – or months, it's hard to keep time when it doesn't matter any more. Tommy was trying to fish out an old car motor from the lake behind the valley. Joe helped him, knowing the motor was useless. Tommy felt he owed Joe a favour – Joe did too.
The group had stumbled upon on old convenience store in the next town a few days after Tommy joined the group. By the time they had dragged the trailer to it, two men had began to move the stock onto their truck.
“Stop them.” Joe said.
Tommy ran to the first man and jabbed the blunt end of a pick-axe into the back of his head, falling to the floor the man began to convulse. Tommy was breathing slow, shallow breaths as he waited for the other man to exit the shop. The man opened the door
his eyes shielded from the midday sun with his arm - unfortunately for him Tommy too. The wooden shaft of the axe smashed into his mouth, knocking a few teeth down his throat. Tommy slowly walked around to stand over the man, the raised pick-axe shielding the sun from the man's eyes.
“Alright.” Joe walked over and took the axe from Tommy. “Good.”
Tommy liked the violence; he had scars all over his hands and he was covered in crude, tattoos he had done himself; Skulls, snakes – the usual. Tommy had used his key to his old home the first time he gave himself a tattoo; a lightning bolt on his right hand. The reason: Tommy's Father had decided to go across the water to find some work.
“Take care of yourself Tom. Don't forget me boy, y'hear?” He gently placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Seeing his Father leave wasn't anything to Tommy, just another name to forget in time.
The storm grew stronger as the group sat in the bunker, the rain started to hit the tin roof; like a million ball-bearings being fired from the sky, or like one of the kids said “like an army of small people skipping across the roof .“
The group huddled up on the dusty benches in the bunker, the lights flickered as the two generators struggled with the unexpected extra work. Some of the kids were crying as thunder began to rumble overhead. Joe's insistence that the storm wouldn't hit being proven false.
Tommy noticed Sasha holding her cross.
“You going to pray? For this to stop, hmm?” Tommy snarled.
“I pray everyday for you not to be such a prick Tom.”
“How many loving times have I told you not to call me..” Tommy was interrupted by Joe's hand grabbing his arm.
Joe agreed with Tommy though: he rejected religion years ago.
“Who needs Gods when we can outlive them? We're all Gods now; unbreakable, watching decades go past in the blink of an eye.” Joe had told Tommy once. Tommy tried to inscribe part of it onto his arm but the pain got the better of the inspiration. He only got up to “Who needs Gods.” He liked it that way.
Sasha broke the silence “What if it's true? About the woman up in Birmingham.”
“It's not.” Joe stood up and stretched. “It's not true now and it will never be true again.”
Tommy was staring at the floor. He looked up and said “Don't you wonder what it would be like Joe?”
Joe sat down, looked up to the ceiling and sighed “No. Not for a long time.”
“I suppose you stop questioning life when death isn't the answer any more.” Sasha said, letting go of her cross.
The storm rumbled on, with no let-up in sight. The group huddled together and waited.
They just waited.
|# ¿ Jan 9, 2014 22:30|
Depths - 100 words
“HOLD ON” the captain screams.
The ocean roars, blue and white fly into the sky. The ocean needs violence. The ship is held in the ocean's grip, waves billow towards the pitch black sky. With a cruel jolt the ship falls hundreds of feet back into the depths.
“Boys, this will be a fine death” freezing salt water shuts the Captain up, filling his belly - pushing the bravery deep down somewhere silent.
The ocean is tired and wants company, a wave folds the ship into its dark belly. Eighteen men, lost in the womb of the water.
|# ¿ Jan 14, 2014 15:39|
I look up to the sky and don't see God there. Just the smiling face of a Djin.
“A God without worship is just a lonely man” The Djin's face looms out from the purple sky, his eyes crackle with a thousand lightning bolts, he spits out fire that tears my flesh off the bone. I try to cry out in pain but the Djin won't allow it.
“I'm your God now boy. You will worship me with pain”
This can't be it. I stand up, charred chunks of smoking flesh fall to the ground.
“I worship nobody Djin”
|# ¿ Jan 14, 2014 20:20|
Thanks in advance for the crits of the last Thunderdome.
|# ¿ Jan 14, 2014 21:10|
If anyone wants a crit from me for their story from the last week's prompt, post a link to it in the next day or so (and no, it will not halve your word count).
Very much appreciated.
|# ¿ Jan 16, 2014 01:29|
He knows what he likes - 995 words
Professor Lindoff perched on the edge of his oak desk, he removed his glasses and placed them into their case.
“You three again. We are trying to mould young men here at Farmsbridge but you three are continually trying to pull everybody down.”
Alex, Phil and Steven sat on an old bench against the back wall of Professor Lindoff's office. It was quite obviously too far away to have a normal conversation from but Lindoff spent £11,000 on his marble floor and nobody was to move any furniture.
The three sat there trying not to laugh. A loose cork, trying to hold a bulging dam's water in.
“You know why I have called you here. We had an incident yesterday and I won't leave until I get to the bottom of it.”
Phil let out a tiny squeak.
The professor's forehead formed a thin layer of sweat across it. He sat down behind his desk. “There was...there was faecal matter left in...”
Alex let out a small raspy giggle.
“I will not stand for this!” The professor jumped up, his chair rocked back and he immediately dropped to his knees to inspect the floor. The three watched as his hand appeared above the desk and pointed to a handkerchief covering something on the floor underneath a huge portrait of Lindoff.
“Over there. I found some... faecal matter underneath my painting.”
“Faecal matter Sir?” Phil asked.
“poo poo!,” Lindoff sprang to his feet “Somebody had a poo poo in here! Somebody had a poo poo underneath my painting and I want to know who did it.”
“How big? Because if it's huge then i'd imagine Phil is the culprit.” Alex said.
“OK, this is not fair. I have normal sized shits, stop trying to make this a thing Alex. Ste?” Phil looked to Steven.
“I reckon you could build a row of huts in Africa going by the size of your last one.”
Lindoff had slowly been massaging his temple while his left foot tapped in time to his increased heart rate.
“Listen, I know you think you're all very clever but let me tell you that I have evidence that you all left your dorms yesterday evening.”
Alex replied “I was studying at a friend's house. Ask the dorm guards.”
“I went for a few drinks with my Dad, check the guest book.” Steven said.
“What Phil? 'Well' what?” Lindoff had started to click his Parker pen in and out.
“Aren't we supposed to have our student president here as a witness?” Phil rubbed his neck, he noticed Alex lean forward.
“I've notified your teachers, this can take all day.” Lindoff stopped clicking his pen.
Alex was trying to catch Phil's gaze “Where did you go Phil?”
Steven started to whistle, Alex was still leaning forward looking at Phil.
“This is bullshit.”
Steven's whistling stopped.
Alex stood up “You went to see her again didn't you? You prick.”
“Language gentlemen.” Lindoff had a thing about other people using “bad” language. He was perfectly fine using it himself though. He once suspended someone for saying vulva.
“You came here didn't you Phil? You got my keys, you walked in and you did a huge abnormal poo poo in my office.” Lindoff's foot started tapping again. “Just admit it, your admittance will help lower the severity of the punishment I promise.”
“I didn't do it” Phil said
“I have a print! I found a print in the hall outside and i'm willing to guess that it was the culprit who...who made that mess over there.” Lindoff put his glasses back on and walked over to them. “ I had the lab make this plastic mould of the print this morning. Hold up your foot”
“OK Sherlock” Alex lifted his foot up. It was too small.
“You, lift” Lindoff looked at Phil. Lindoff went to lift Phil's foot but Phil put pressure down causing Lindoff to fall slightly into Phil's shin, knocking his glasses. Lindoff looked up to Phil – his glasses sitting wonkily on his face.
“Oh you bloody poo poo. I've had enough of you Philip Thatcher. First it was the fire in the locker rooms, then it was replacing all birth control pills in the nurse's office with Tic-Tacs...”
“Abortions left, right and centre but at least everyone's breath was fresh” Alex said.
Lindoff stood up and threw the mould away “I will make sure the three of you will never be in the same class again. I will keep you in separate dorms. Do you hear me? You want to poo poo in my office? On my floor?”
Lindoff's dog bounced in. His muddy paws made Lindoff's eyes bulge and beads of sweat join together, forming long salty streaks down his face. The dog looked at the painting, shuffled over the handkerchief and without breaking his gaze from the painting he slowly squeezed out a fresh one.
Four men sat in silence and watched the dog leave as casually as he had entered.
Lindoff's secretary stumbled in with the dog in her arms.
“He keeps getting off the leash Robert, i'm so sorry” She backed out into the hallway bowing apologetically as she left.
Alex turned to Phil “Can you smell faecal matter Phillip?”
Lindoff's head slipped through his hands and his sweaty forehead rested on his desk “Get out.”
Phil said “Yes, I think that is a slight whiff of faecal matter I detect in the air.”
Steven walked to Lindoff's desk “An apology?”
The Professor slid down off his chair, and lay on his floor. The marble felt fantastic on his burning forehead. He tilted his head and watched the boys congratulate his dog from under the desk.
Lindoff felt like he was melting into the floor, he spread his body out and let the cold floor take hold of him. He ignored the smell of fresh poo poo that attempted to enter his nostrils.
“I love this loving floor”
|# ¿ Jan 18, 2014 00:59|
Completely deserved the loss this week. Didn't really have time due to work but didn't want to skip a week either.
In for this week. Based on this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maschalismos
|# ¿ Jan 21, 2014 16:14|
Tonight- 972 words.
I died a thousand times last night.
I woke up to a blurred world. I ran my fingers across my belly, feeling the hundreds of scars deep on my body's landscape. Each one telling a cruel story; a swipe with a poison-tipped knife, broken bottles tearing at my flesh and a hundred other vile full-stops to that current life, a punishment to a deed I had long forgotten
It once told me that it hurt when I was breathing. My every breath was a dull ache in its stomach, my every blink was a crashing symbol inside its head. That's why it killed me. That's why it will always kill me. “It's not personal.”
I got up and stumbled into a damp wall. It felt smooth to the touch and was covered with a cloudy liquid that smelled like copper. I looked to where I had woken and noticed a dark stain marking my last end. I had to keep moving otherwise it'd find me again.
Every one of my deaths is carefully etched onto my memory, the pain sings a song I can't ignore. Sometimes I can remember things from my past life; the sun on my neck on a Summer's day, my baby's fingers wrapped round my index finger or biting the bottom of my boyfriend's ice-cream cone and laughing as the contents ran down his hand.
I heard a patter of feet scurry past behind me. A cacophony of noise began to clatter in my head. I held my head in my hands and began to scrunch my long hair as the noise increased. I needed to find it, I needed silence.
Running quickly between the narrow walls, my feet splashing through the shallow water, I didn't need to look where I was going: these walls felt like home.
It was shivering in the corner when I first saw it. It had a long robe on with a large hood covering its face. I felt like every time it breathed I could feel my blood begin to boil inside, my heart beginning to sizzle and burn.
I ripped its hood off and looked into its eyes. I felt as though I tumbled into them, spiralling into the dark. Then I saw the faces of a million people scream out of the darkness as I continued to fall. They all looked at me with despair, their eyes filled with tears and I remembered them all. I had killed them. I held their life in my hands and after ignoring their pathetic pleas I crushed them.
It pleaded with me to let it go, to let it scurry off into the dark again like a rat. Before I could respond I was digging into its back with my hands. I was tearing the flesh away from the bone, my nails began to scratch against its spine. I wrenched part of the lower spine out, the nerve endings flopped between my fingers, it felt like cold spaghetti.
The screams entered my head and I sang along with them. A song to score my beautiful act, a gift for a job well done.
“It's not personal” I said
I sat next to the corpse for a while and waited. My lower back began to burn, I tried to stand but my legs couldn't help me any more. A dull pain pulsated through them as the burning in my back intensified.
A light began to emit from the corpse's eyes. I looked into them and felt myself lifted away. I saw a blonde woman lying on a bed. She was sleeping and I sat next to her and smiled. I looked down and saw I was wearing dark bloody overalls. I was holding a large knife.
I was violently dragged backwards out of that place. A million memories began to flick through my head; in handcuffs on a warm Summer's day as screams rang out, holding my baby's hands before I dropped him in the bath and beating my girlfriend for making me spill ice-cream on myself.
I was back sat on the cold floor, the pain in my back had spread up my back. I couldn't feel my legs, my arms began to tingle and I felt the dark trying to seduce me, trying to make me go into it, never to come back.
Lying there I felt someone's presence in the room. I heard them drag the man's corpse away, fearing I would be next I let out a noise I thought would be “Who's there?”
“Don't worry dear. This one is finished, he's going to pay his dues now.”
I tried to lift my head to see who this person was but that proved impossible: my whole body was limp.
“Lie still, another one will be along soon. You're not done just yet”
With that my body fell through the floor. I hurtled backwards through the air as I watch the ceiling disappear at a rapid pace. Freezing cold air whipped through my bloody clothes as I continued to fall.
I wondered where I was going. I began to wonder if the scars weren't inflicted on me, maybe my body had to take some of their pain. The suffering I gave them had to be paid back to me, my body a canvass for a painting centuries old.
The dark took me into its arms and held me for a while. I woke up on a damp floor, I looked at the walls and they were covered in a cloudy liquid. I had to leave before it got me again.
I saw a shadow flit past to the side of me. A voice deep in me told me what had to be done.
“It's not personal” I repeated to myself.
I died a thousand times last night and tonight i'll die a thousand more.
|# ¿ Jan 24, 2014 21:27|
Ah poo poo. I forgot to link the article in the post and i'm not sure on how strict the "no edit" rule is.
I will be sick on myself as punishment.
|# ¿ Jan 24, 2014 21:28|
In, with the 00s. Or the "Noughties" if you plan on never being my friend.
|# ¿ Jan 27, 2014 23:05|
So I did. Watch this space.
|# ¿ Jan 28, 2014 06:43|
I'm going to have to be a coward and bow out of the prompt this week. Work has won and i am a broken man.
Had a quick bash at the viking story before i collapsed with exhaustion:
Lothar looked closely at the slab of meat on his table. It took a while to banish the drink from his head but he saw it eventually: a belly-button.
Lothar jumped up and pushed his chair tumbling backwards.
“Stop eating. What is...”
Elma started to laugh. She unsheathed her axe and began clinking it along the floor as she approached Lothar.
“You should sit down.”
Lothar's vision was already closing, he stumbled backwards over his chair as he reached for his weapon.
“I told you” Elma said.
Lothar looked at the slumped bodies at the table. His Son was fighting for breath, a white froth filling his throat was winning that battle easily.
“Freja the Wanderer was cut apart by you and your friends. You left me with a reminder of your visit”
Elma lifted her fur tunic to show an 8 inch scar across her stomach.
“I never thanked you for this”
She stood over Lothar. She kissed her fingers and then placed them on his forehead. She took a step back and as the strength of her family ran through her she took Lothar apart.
Elma took the crown from Lothar's head. She wiped the red mush from it and walked over to his throne. She placed it on the seat and knelt on one knee.
“Lo, there do I see my Mother
And my Sisters and Brothers.
In the Halls of Valhalla,
Where the brave may live forever”
Mr_Wolf fucked around with this message at Feb 4, 2014 around 17:44
|# ¿ Feb 3, 2014 16:41|
In with Cobalt.
Seeing as though i missed the last prompt i guess i'll take a flash rule too from someone kind.
|# ¿ Feb 4, 2014 17:50|
Disgusting newbie here. What is toxxing?
Mr_Wolf fucked around with this message at Feb 5, 2014 around 11:54
|# ¿ Feb 5, 2014 11:46|
|# ¿ Jun 19, 2019 01:12|
Dust to Dust - 1191 words
I stand at her door. I still can't quite believe she has said yes. Bloody Hannah Moffat has said yes to me. I'm a giant knob-head, what is she thinking?
I check my watch and realise I have been standing here for 10 minutes. 11 minutes. OK, i'm just being silly. She said yes, this isn't Punked and nothing bad will happen when I ring that doorbell.
poo poo, what's wrong with me? Oh no, I hear footsteps coming to the door.
“Hello Son, I saw you from inside. Do you know how doors work?”
“Dad! I told you not to talk. Come in Dean, I’ll be ready in a minute.” her Dad glugged his beer and opened the door wide.
I walk into the house and immediately want to leave, go home and go to bed. This isn't for me at all.
“What's your name kid?”
“Dean Sir? That's a silly name isn't it?”
He looks up the stairs and then turns back to me. He raises his beer, then arches his eyebrows. He shuffles off to the living room. I see the football is on, the volume is loud and the table is full of betting slips.
“I'll be down in a minute.”
I loosen my bow-tie. I check my watch and see we have a good hour until Prom starts. I know I should have stayed home a bit longer. I could have got a wank in.
I go into the dining-room. The back wall has a huge portrait of the family, with individual portraits of the family lining the other walls. I'm a bit scared with the whole family looking at me so I turn to leave.
“One minute Dean, I swear.”
Back in hall i notice a small area behind the stairs. I see a beautiful blue bowl with flowers around it. The light shines through the window and illuminates the bowl, throwing a beautiful shade of blue against the back of the wall.
In History i remember reading about how they coloured old glass using cobalt. I tried to tell Hannah her eyes were as pretty as cobalt but I said cobble instead. I said to an actual human that their eyes are like old roads. I'm so smooth I could be James Bond.
She's not the prettiest girl in school but apparently she let Rob finger her in Science so i've got a good chance of getting something. What can I say I’m an old romantic at heart.
A hair-dryer starts upstairs, I poo poo myself. A little dog runs out from the living-room and stares at me.
I see there's something inside the bowl, I go over and lift it up. The dog starts to bark at me, i can see in its stupid eyes it wants to eat my tongue and lips. This dog needs to shut up because I don't want to deal with Hannah's Dad.
I take one step towards the dog and it charges. What the gently caress is going on? I'm going to die. This little poo poo runs at a speed I don't think possible and runs between my legs, nipping every inch of my ankles.
I try to kick it away but this dog is a nightmare; a blur of fur and teeth and ...holy poo poo.
I drop the bowl and both of us freeze. We both watch the bowl break into a thousand pieces and a plume of dust explodes from the impact.
The dog looks at me and I swear it smirks. It walks away, showing me its arsehole and its tail wags like no tail has wagged before.
I turn to try and hide this mess and I see it: a funeral picture. Her Mum's dead? She said she left when she was young. Oh my God. Her mum was in the bowl. Now she is all over the floor.
For some reason I think the best plan of action is to kick the glass and dead lady under the stairs. I soon realise this won't work, I scoop up the ashes and put some in my pocket. I'll get away with this and put my willy in a girl's mouth tonight. I just need to play it cool.
The hair-dryer stops upstairs and I hear shoes clicking along the wooden floor. She bounces down the stairs and greets me with a huge smile.
“What do you think?” She spins round and I watch her yellow dress gently lift around her knees and her blonde hair brushes my arm. She is actually really pretty.
Oh my God. Act normal. I have a dead woman in my pockets but Christ I need to act normal.
“Is that a bow-tie?” She steps forward and pats my bow-tie. I can smell her perfume, it smells like strawberries and I immediately fall in love with her. Either that or I want to have sex with strawberries.
“Yeah, I thought I’d make an effort. Seeing as I’m going to Prom with the most beautiful girl in school.” I almost baulked at how cheesey that was.
She steps forward and kisses me.
“Will you look after this for me?” She takes her flower off and puts it in my pocket. Her lip gloss is still on my lips so I forget to stop her.
“What's this?” She looks at the weird dust on her hand. Hannah turns and sees the crime scene.“MUMMY” She begins to pick up the broken pieces in shock. She keeps chanting to her dusty Mummy as my brain tries to formulate a plan to make sure I won't get throttled.
“Delilah?!” Her Dad is awake now. Oh great, I'm going to be murdered. In a bow-tie too, they'll put that on my gravestone. I'll be a laughing stock even in death.
“He put a dead woman in his pocket and died wearing a bow-tie”
He runs out of the living-room and gasps as he sees the broken blue glass mingle with the ashes of his lovely wife.
He drops to his knees and begins to scuttle across the floor scooping up the love of his life.
I see a dustpan and brush and my stupid brain thinks it could help then I realise I am the worst human being in the world and I walk to the door.
Hannah spins her head round like the girl off the Exorcist and says “Don't you tell anyone about this”
Oh thanks for the warning Hannah. I was looking forward to telling the entire school about how I didn't get any sex on Prom night because I threw the ashes of a dead woman all over the floor and kept some in my pockets as a souvenir too.
I walk outside and hear birds tweet in the trees. The sun shines in my eyes as a punishment. Mother Nature knows what I have done. I tear my bow-tie off and throw it into a bush.
I knew I should have stayed in bed.
|# ¿ Feb 8, 2014 09:19|