Old salts at the banquet hall, #'s 6-10
6) Nike Pegasus shoes. Remember those? He had a pair. They were size 14 and he ran like a tank. He watched gory videos and kept things inside. Some people thought he was creepy, others thought he was putting them on, using his behavior as some sort of false front. Neither was true. He found himself one day sitting on his step dad's hammock and twisting flowers apart. He didn't know how he got there. Two days later he moved out of town and never came back.
7) Nachos dual mode operation, hundred man quip fest, green line dissociative method. These were just a few of the necessities that were indicated. Lost, with a penchant for evil, a set of dangerous circumstances arose. They all met one evening by coincidence and boy did the fantastic explosion take place as predicted. The various sets of boundary conditions and required tasks/processes were known to be incompatible and inversely related to one another in a horrific way. The dried puddles that remained were an acknowledgement to their lack of knowledge. They should have never done it.
8) He waited quietly outside the convenient store. It wasn't the first time he planned to rob somebody. Hell, just last week he smashed a guy's face and took his bag of candy. Good stuff in there actually - peanut butter M&M's and a Score bar for starters; things that gave him a brief but intense sugar high. Tonight he considered getting some smokes and a lottery ticket, provided the given target doesn't scratch the fucker right in front of the clerk. He didn't have to wait long. A middle-aged and worn out woman came in. Her hair was in the style of '89 and she was atrophied from the speed. Her normal activity was brought to a quick end next to the pay phone. The crook found one losing lottery ticket and no smokes. In the struggle he lost a good portion of skin on the left hand. He went home and ate his fruit loops.
9) She smiled and walked into the traffic. She didn't know any better. Her seeing eye dog had lost it that day. That was it, he figured, he was done with this bullshit. What did they think he was anyway? A fucking machine? He was exhausted after a brief life that included always watching for trucks and considering different routes. He understood very little in actuality, but worked with what he had. He did well. He didn't ever get to participate in normal activities and was very resentful. Today he had enough. They both got crushed into bits by a large van.
10) Witherman was a hunched over fruit bag. He whistled through his nose and delighted in hopping off retaining walls. His face was crooked and his eye was leaning. He laughed with a screech and belched with a bark. He smelled of carrot juice and burning ceramic. Some thought he was a secret genius, but he was a true idiot. Their assumption was based on his ability to predict easily predictable futures. If anything, he was instincual. Last week he swallowed a marshmallow whole and choked for 10 minutes. He knew he lost some brain ability, but knew he would just keep on livin', same as ever. His abilities had no effect on his life. He dwizzled on and on and on and never became a hero in the traditional sense.
7) Nachos dual mode operation, hundred man quip fest, green line dissociative method. These were just a few of the necessities that were indicated. Lost, with a penchant for evil, a set of dangerous circumstances arose. They all met one evening by coincidence and boy did the fantastic explosion take place as predicted. The various sets of boundary conditions and required tasks/processes were known to be incompatible and inversely related to one another in a horrific way. The dried puddles that remained were an acknowledgement to their lack of knowledge. They should have never done it.
8) He waited quietly outside the convenient store. It wasn't the first time he planned to rob somebody. Hell, just last week he smashed a guy's face and took his bag of candy. Good stuff in there actually - peanut butter M&M's and a Score bar for starters; things that gave him a brief but intense sugar high. Tonight he considered getting some smokes and a lottery ticket, provided the given target doesn't scratch the fucker right in front of the clerk. He didn't have to wait long. A middle-aged and worn out woman came in. Her hair was in the style of '89 and she was atrophied from the speed. Her normal activity was brought to a quick end next to the pay phone. The crook found one losing lottery ticket and no smokes. In the struggle he lost a good portion of skin on the left hand. He went home and ate his fruit loops.
9) She smiled and walked into the traffic. She didn't know any better. Her seeing eye dog had lost it that day. That was it, he figured, he was done with this bullshit. What did they think he was anyway? A fucking machine? He was exhausted after a brief life that included always watching for trucks and considering different routes. He understood very little in actuality, but worked with what he had. He did well. He didn't ever get to participate in normal activities and was very resentful. Today he had enough. They both got crushed into bits by a large van.
10) Witherman was a hunched over fruit bag. He whistled through his nose and delighted in hopping off retaining walls. His face was crooked and his eye was leaning. He laughed with a screech and belched with a bark. He smelled of carrot juice and burning ceramic. Some thought he was a secret genius, but he was a true idiot. Their assumption was based on his ability to predict easily predictable futures. If anything, he was instincual. Last week he swallowed a marshmallow whole and choked for 10 minutes. He knew he lost some brain ability, but knew he would just keep on livin', same as ever. His abilities had no effect on his life. He dwizzled on and on and on and never became a hero in the traditional sense.
posted by fiestawizard at 11:26 PM
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