Thursday, April 28, 2011

Porcelain Garbage F3 – Cycle 28 – The 700 Club Open to pg. 70. Choose the 7th sentence. The title of the book is A Game of Thrones by George RR Martin

With the closing of busy season for taxes and wrapping up the 1st quarter financials and analysis at my day job as a controller, I didn't think I would be able to submit for this week's prompt.  This week's prompt was difficult for me, I have no experience of ever writing crime fiction in any shape or form.  That being said here's my short shot at this week's prompt.  Heck, I didn't even know how to name the thing, maybe the name is appropriate. 

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     Arya wanted to scream.  However, the faint step and drag of Zeus's hobbled gait grew closer on the other side of the door.  Her heart thundered in her ears.  No way he would let her live this time.  He had promised her that the next unsatisfied customer to emerge from her cell would be her last.  Her mouth dried as the chipped gold enamel door knob twisted and the dingy, off-white door swung inward, the soft squeal of old hinges a melancholy theme song, that introduced Zeus's towering form.

     She backed away and cowered in the corner, unshed tears in her eyes as he advanced across the room.  The slow rhythmic manner in which he spun, then unwound the soiled towel in between his hands, hypnotized her.  In one quick motion he uncoiled the towel, it swooped and a quick twist of the towel choked off her air as her tiny, half-clothed, pre-pubescent frame lifted away from the grime-coated hardwood floor.

     "Hey, you know that missing persons report regarding the 12 year old girl, came in 'bout a month ago.  Her body just turned up in a dumpster two blocks over from that diner up on Dunston Street."

     "Anyone been assigned?"

     "Not yet"

     "What're we waitin' for?"  Karl grabs his overcoat and heads for the precinct door, with his partner Graves close on his heels.  "This makes the third, in the last six months."  Another waste of time where no one saw a thing, but may have heard something untoward.  Sheesh! And to think I could have joined the Merchant Marines.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

When Men Were Men!

Prompt: THEMED WORDLIST – Fist, Jab, Knuckle, Spirit, Fighter, Rhythm

     "Looks like this night's gonna get a bit more interesting", "check out who just stepped through the door".

     I continued drying the freshly dipped glasses [washed would be too strong of a word] and setting them upside down on the front shelf, for easy access.  "Grady" as we locals liked to refer to him, always entertained and seldom in a politically correct manner.  The funny thing being I've never heard him referred to any other way and the old goat responds in kind.

     "Hey Rummy, I could use another drink over here! ...a err shot a jack this time"

     I slide the shot down the bar with aplomb.  I'm Rummy by the way, in case you haven't guessed.  The regulars kinda gave me the name, on account of,  if you ask for a drink nondescriptly, you get RUM, the cheapest in the house, 'Mr. Boston Light Rum' to be exact.

     "Rummy!  Aint'ya got the fight in dis place!

     The sour stench of stale wine wafts from Grady's direction, whether from the all too familiar dark gray sweater jacket or his breath, who knows.  "Grady pipe down! It ain't for another hour or so. You know we got the fight tonight!  Any man with two marbles upstairs, can see this ain't the normal weekend crowd."  The place definitely has a different rhythm tonight, feels like the bar itself just might be holding its breath in anticipation.  I walk over, remembering at the last moment not to lean forward on the bar in my usual pose, not with Grady.

     "What's got you so worked up, aren't you always claiming that the fighters nowadays 'got no heart', one might think two of those Danbury, bare knuckle fighters you go on about,  will be fighting tonight."

     "Nah, nothin' like da real men of yor', when men were men!  But, dease two boys in da main got real spirit dough.  Mastah o' da jab day call one of 'em."  He slaps the bar top with a weathered hand, anticipation dancing in his glossy steel gray eyes.  He smiles displaying what's left of his teeth.  Easier time counting the ones he has left, rather than what's missing.

     A glass shatters on the floor, as a minor altercation starts up at the opposite end of the bar.  "Hey, break another one, and you'll see some fists flying, right here and now."

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Flash Fiction Friday, Doc's Inaugural Prompt: Someone caught with their pants down, A Fool. Title: Only The Young

For this week's prompt I'm taking one of my first blog posts and giving it a major makeover.  I think it would be perfect for this weeks prompt.  Have a little fun Show us a good fool, someone caught with their pants down

     Walking through the mall, a cinnamon bark suede jacket attracts my attention through the window of the SYMS Store.  I wonder how that would matchup with my suede high-tops.  My mind wanders, creating a visual of the two items worn in concert.

    "Strings, C'mon!", the faint echo of the words, dissipates quickly.

    The squeak of my shoes, similar to the sound of an athlete's sneakers on a gymnasium floor, is the only reply I give.  I accelerate forward, zigging and zagging my way through the throng of the busy hall, as I skirt the corner, while heading towards the exit.  I spot Izzy exiting the second set of double doors, moving abreast of the Coca-Cola Machine outside the entrance.  I increase my speed, closing the distance between myself and Izzy.  Outside, I can see the heads of Paco, Jake, and Mel bobbing along as they enter the parking lot.  In my rush to catchup, I disregard the precarious position of my drooping  dark blue jeans.  And just as it seems that I'm succeeding in closing the gap , my jeans slide down to my knees, tripping me in the process.

     My hands instinctively begin windmilling, trying desperately to keep my balance. I manage to salvage some portion of my dignity, by tucking and rolling to my feet at the last moment.  Whew! That was close.

     In congratulating myself, for averting a face flop, I momentarily forgot about my pants being below my knees.  Now, displaying my underwear to the unsuspecting  public would be mortifying enough.  However, today being NO DRAWERS WEDNESDAY at school (who would have ever thought that concept would take hold.), I am completely naked from hip to knee.  This to the astonishment of a gaggle of girls off to my left, .  Though, my nude modeling debut is only for the briefest of moments, each guffaw of laughter is like a lash from a wet whip to my pride and psyche.  With one swift jerk,  I return my pants to their proper position, [two inches below my waist].

    An eternity later, I emerge from the second set of double doors of the mall, into the beginning of the first stage of dusk.

    I find Izzy, Paco, Mel, and Jake waiting curbside, in a dingy, white Cutlass Supreme.  I squeeze into the back seat, feeling like my hair should be on fire, to signify what had just transpired inside the mall.  Thankfully, there are no questions, as I lean back and close my eyes, the car speeds away.

     A short while later, we pull into a townhouse community, we stop and Jake exits, and knocks at the door of the far left end unit.  A cute, caramel complexioned, girl of around 16 years old  in black shorts and a faded black sleeveless t-shirt with large pink lips adorning the front, answers the door.  After a brief conversation, Jake looks across the parking lot to where we're parked and gestures for us, to come on.  Inside the house, I hear pieces of the ongoing conversation as I wander from room to room to alleviate my restlessness.  Suddenly, I cease roaming about, they can't be discussing what I think.  Just then, Izzy peaks around the corner and relates to me, Linda's mother, will not be home for another two hours, and Linda would like very much, for us to come up to her room.

     Unbelievable, we can't be this lucky, do girls even do this sort of thing.

     As we enter the room, Linda lays back onto the queen size bed and with sultry eyes asks simply "who's first".  Pushing and shoving ensues, as a five-sided argument begins about who should have the honor.  I blink my eyes and Paco is standing in nothing but his boxer shorts and socks.  So, with that it appears, he has won the argument, however, I must have accounted for myself pretty well in the debate, as I currently stand in the second position.

     "LINDA!  I'M HOME!", a slight boom punctuates the statement, as the door to the house slams shut.

     Linda whispers "oh my god! It's my mom.  Quick, get in the closet", while shooing us all toward the closet with near frantic gestures.

     After an hour in the closet, peeking through the slit between the double metal sliding doors, I see Linda sit down onto the bed.  Jake taps me on the shoulder, drawing my attention.

     "Tell her to open the window", he whispers

     I instantly relay the message, wait a minute, open the window?  "For what?"  I whisper in Jake's direction.

     "We're jumpin out!", whispered Mel fiercely, from the other side of the closet.

     Were they mad? Surely, there's a safer way outta here

     "We saw bullets for a nine millimeter handgun in one of the kitchen drawers", whispers Izzy.

     "Great, this just gets better and better", I mutter.   Maybe we could still...

     BOOM!  The right side metal door topples out onto the carpet, just as Linda opens the window.

     In succession, Jake and Mel bounce out of the window and into the open air!  Before, I can begin to argue that this is madness, Paco dives through the opening head first.

     No question, they've done this before.  At least, Izzy has the brains to hang down out of the window before dropping the remainder of the two story distance.  Robotic steps move me forward to take a sitting position in the window opening.  As I turn to plead with Linda one last  time about letting me hide under the bed, her forceful shove, leaves me free-falling in mid air.  I close my eyes and hope for the best, before miraculously landing in a crouch, a split second later.  Grinning maniacally, while running my hands over portions of my body, I dash away into the night, leaving behind a couple specimens of completely flattened shrubbery.

     Thank God for weekends, is the thought on my mind as I exit the library, effectively, ending my shift.  The evening air is cool against my skin, as I spot Izzy and Kay waiting outside, to offer me a ride.

     "Remember those girls from over on Garrison Street", Kay says, as he turns around in my direction from the passenger seat.

     "I think so", not really, but if girls are involved,  I'm there!

     "Well, anyway they want you and I to keep them company, while, they watch movies in Crystal's basement."

     "That's what's up", finally, my luck is starting to turn.

     I greet Jessie as she lets us into the backdoor, while, Crystal holds the family German Shepherd, forcing him out into the backyard.  We pair off and settle down in opposite directions with scattered grids of soft light from the outside street lights, illuminating patches of the dark basement.  I yawn as Silence of the Lambs [the third movie] is coming to a close.

     "Come up to my room"

     "You're parents aren't home?"

     "Asleep. You'll have to be quiet though, my dad is sleeping on the living room sofa"

     "Lead the way!"

     I nudge Kay as I walk by, he stands up, and he and Jessie follow us up the stairs to the foyer.  The sound of hard snoring smothers the fall of our footsteps as we creep up the stairs, using our hands to remain as low as possible.

     Crystal locks her bedroom door and immediately, she and Jessie begin to sway back and forth, in simulation of beginning a strip tease.  The handle of the door jiggles up and down and a baritone voice booms!

     "Crystal, is everything alright in there, I thought I heard something!"

     "Daddy, Jessie and I are just trying on different outfits, in preparation for tomorrow."  She motions us toward the window.

     Rather, she motions me toward the window, for as I turn my head, I see that Kay has already climbed out of the window, disappearing to the left of it.  Ugggh! Not again!  Am I the only one who doesn't jump out of windows? Since when did this become the new trend?  With an audible sigh, I turn and move to the window, sticking my head out, to view the route Kay has taken.  It's quickly apparent that Kay's spiderman impression is beyond my abilities, as he steps from the right side of the chimney to the top of the six foot wooden fence and jumps down.

     I decide to try Izzy's method from earlier in the week.  As I lower myself down, my hand slips and I plummet towards the ground into the waiting embrace of a thorn spiked bush.  Even with thorns pricking me every which way, not to mention the one that punctured the center of the palm of my right hand, I relax and breathe a sigh of relief.


     I roll backwards out of the bush and in two steps gain the top of the fence.  However, my injured hand would not allow me to pull myself up and over, resulting in my failed lunge, succeeding in only breaking the top of the fence and dumping me face first onto the other side of the fence.  Picking myself up and scampering into the night, one thought reverberates through my brain, HOW DO I KEEP GETTING MYSELF INTO THESE SITUATIONS!