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gently caress it, I need to try this at some point. In.
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Jan 26, 2017 00:26
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Prompt: "The greater an object's value, the more vulnerable it is to theft. And the world's most celebrated art is no exception." Ears 1397 words "She doesny even look good." "…We’re on the other side of the room and there’s a ton of glass in front of it. Of course it doesn’t look good." Can’t believe I let Ricky drag me here. Of course he wants to spend our last day in Paris gawking at bits of paper that some dead Italian fucks jizzed on like we don’t have a loving job to do. "Nah but, yir expecting this grandiose thing, and she’s just this wee smiling lassie. Whit’s the point?" "loving hell, it was your idea to come here. I couldn’t give two shits about any of this, I’m just here to make sure you don’t gently caress things up. Besides, it’s frowning, not smiling." Ricky squints at me. I’m pretty sure he’s going blind. "She isny frowning." "It loving is." "Terry, I’m sure Mona Lisa wis a real person–" "And if she was, she’d be sitting in DiCaprio’s office loving frowning because she doesn’t want to watch him wanking for hours at a time." "Da Vinci." "Look, does it really matter?" "It does to me," whines Ricky. I smile and point towards the sea of marks gawking over the most protected piece of jism in the world. If he wants to find out, he can brave the waters and I can gently caress off to the airport without him. He’s about to go for it, but then he realises that he doesn’t want to be torn apart by the rabid art critics waiting to pounce on him for not knowing whether the bitch is frowning or smiling. "Aye, alright, I guess it doesny matter." I’m about to sigh a relief, but then the biggest lightbulb ever made explodes in Ricky’s head and he gasps at me. "Here, you lot need a wee bit culture in yir lives, what if we–" "Jesus Christ, don’t even think about it. The walls have ears." "Nah but, I’m sure they widny mind if–" "Look, I know what you’re about to suggest, and I don’t know how you could be so astronomically loving stupid. That case is made of bulletproof glass, and there’s literally no way for us to remove the painting without superpowers or whatever. It’s probably been tried hundreds of times before without any success." He’s disappointed now. I think he’d deluded himself into thinking he’d be able to phase through the glass, take out the painting and leave with everyone grovelling like he’s just become the king of France. Or he’s about to be lead to the guillotine. "Aye, well, whit bout that one?" Ricky points to a load of Greek fucks in multi-coloured togas dotted around these columns and over these balconies and there’s someone in a halo and oh Christ that’s Christ isn’t it. Ricky really wants this piece of papist propaganda. "gently caress off." "Nah, but, it’s got–" "Look, Ricky," I want to say something along the lines of, I dunno, you’re a fenian prick and as soon as we get out of here you’re falling in the Seine, but I have a feeling the boys wouldn’t appreciate Interpol finding us off a murder lead. "How do you propose the pair of us, just, just you and me, how should we get this loving goliath outside?" He quivers like I had actually threatened to make him go in Seine, and suddenly I die inside because I came up with that horrible pun. "Aye, okay. Mibby the, uh," he finds the strength to lift his Parkinsons-addled finger towards some woman with a dagger. "Well, okay, that one’s small and there isn’t bulletproof glass around it, but do you really want to go through with this in broad daylight?" "…Nah, nah, I thought we could come–" "Have you forgotten that we have somewhere to be tonight and we can’t waste time loving Matrixing our way around security lasers or whatever to find one of these cumstains?" Ricky nods and mumbles a half-hearted acknowledgement. Christ. I didn’t expect him to tense up like this, but it’s the only way he’ll learn. If you don’t want to get caught, the most important thing is not to gently caress ....around. Like I used to all the time when I was green. All the loving time. poo poo. What am I doing? Ricky’s young. He doesn’t need to be dragged into this poo poo. It’s only his first international job, for gently caress’s sake. If we’re compromised, he’ll be dragged down with us and if he was hosed before he found us...nah, this isn’t right. "Look, I'm sorry. Have you ever been inside?" "Inside…you mean inside a-" "Walls have ears. Yeah." "Wis in Saughton for a year when I wis eighteen." "Saughton?" "Aye, in Edinburgh. Stole somedy’s car. Wish I hudny done it, but now I’m here." "Saughton," I sigh. "God, you…you don’t know how dangerous this could be, do you? You’ve never been inside – I take it you’ve never been to Vietnam before?" He slowly shakes his head. "Yeah. Don’t go there. Went there for a job once and I ended up in this shithole outside Ho Chi Minh for five years. The loving guards beat me every day until I ended up having to fight back, and when I did I ended up in this loving disgusting solitary confinement. I’m amazed that I never ended up sick, because the doctors are brutal there, and…" I can’t tell if Ricky’s amazed, or frightened, or both. I can’t tell what’s going through his mind or anyone’s loving mind and I don’t even know what’s going through my mind except I shouldn’t have loving done that and I can’t stop thinking about that place and I’ve said too much. Oh, Christ, I’ve said too much. They’re onto us. They’ve been listening into this entire loving conversation and they’re on the loving phone to Interpol right now. I need to get out but I’m going to be thrown back into prison but but. Ricky’s face hasn’t changed. loving. Breathe. Focus on Ricky. "…and I just, I don’t want you to end up in that situation. I mean, Christ, you’re still young, I’m loving thirty-five now and there’s probably so much wrong with me that…" "Aye." I flash him a smile. "You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, you know? I mean, yeah, you’ve been inside before, but that doesn’t mean you’re done forever. You can set up somewhere else, and you know, you’ll be out of the game and safe and that." "Aye. To be honest wi you, Terry… I’ve no been feeling great about the job since I started here, you know?" "Yeah." I breathe for a bit. "When we get back to the hotel I’m going to phone Kyle and tell him we’ve been compromised. I mean, I don’t know if we have, but anyway, I’ll say we’ve been compromised and we can hop a train to loving Austria or wherever." "That’d be great, aye," he says with a smile. *** Voicemail. Of course Kyle’s left his loving phone off. Hope Ricky hasn’t followed me down here. I leave the message, and I head over to the Pont d’Austerlitz. …God, that’s weird. I don’t know anything about art, but I remember the name of this bridge from my first international job. There was a contact living on the other side, and the boss – poo poo, what was his name? – my boss just tells me as we’re going over, the bridge got its name from the Battle of Austerlitz, and that song about the Pont d’Avignon popped into my head, and for some reason I sung "sur le Pont d’Austerlitz, wankers cross with piles of blow", and the entire truck just burst into laughter. Christ knows why, it wasn’t funny. I don’t remember a single person with me at the time, but that’s stuck with me forever. Forever. Huh. This is forever, I guess. Really glad Ricky isn’t here. The sunset’s turning the river into the most beautiful stream of piss in the world. That makes me feel better, knowing that I’m about to …the phone buzzes, and I haul it out of my pocket. Kyle. Nope. It crashes into the river like a skimming stone on a pond. Guess I’m about to become the world’s biggest skimming stone then. I become one with the Seine with a splash. The current sweeps me away as I drift into blissful annihilation.
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Jan 29, 2017 19:31
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steeltoedsneakers posted:I'll do a line by line if someone wants it, too - either for this week or for one of the two weeks I judged recently (ineptitude/cursed yearking). Sure.
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Jan 29, 2017 20:48
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