a story of sorts
As I mentioned in my previous entry this place will not only be a place for me to rant about the frivolous little things that bother me from time to time but will also be a place to house whatever project I have going at the time.Late last year I started writing some random little story to pass the time it doesn't really make sense and merely is just a way for me to practice my writing(which I'm kind of bad at...I'm much better at script writing,which is what I mostly do)but I decided to post it here anyway as a way to get it off the computer.
SCRAMBLED EGGS AND THE HAWTHORNE AFFAIR
We woke early the next morning only to discover that Uncle Ira still wasn’t there. The house was drafty as we trudged about the hallways searching for him but as the first few rays of sunlight peeked through the windows it started to warm up. We pulled on our clothes in a daze and went down to the 50-degree kitchen to cook breakfast. Once we had managed to scrape something halfway satisfying together we went to eat out in the garden. There were over turned flowerpots and overgrown bushes and the lawn chairs were sagging just enough to remain comfortable as I looked on towards the dilapidated gate I thought about our current circumstances. “I think we should go and look for Uncle Ira,” I said amidst the crunching of toast and the slurping of eggs. Grant just gave me a sour look as he crept back to his mountain of scrambled eggs Vance looked as if he was going to say something but thought better of it and shuffled back to the house mumbling something about vinegar.
Vance’s attempts to stay sober never lasted long but his new methods seemed to be working as he had adopted the consumption of other liquids such as balsamic vinegar and the like. “How do you expect us to find him?” Grant asked as he stabbed his sausages with his fork “We haven’t heard anything from him, we don’t even have a number to reach him by. Mom and Dad said he was away on business and should be back by the time we got here but he wasn’t and we don’t even know where he could be…hell! We don’t even know what he does for a living!” He looked livid as he often did and only gave me another discontented look as he viciously ripped into his toast and guzzled down his mug of orange juice. I was sullen as Vance staggered back to his seat with a bottle of vinegar and began to gulp it down as if it were water. “I know there’s not a whole lot to go by but we have to do something! We can’t just sit around here all winter and he never comes back. What if he’s hurt or something?” I asked and Grant only gave me another dirty look as he firmly set his plate on the ground and glared daggers at me before saying “Well that’s his own fault then isn’t it? He’s always been mister secretive never giving away too much about his work or personal affairs and I guess now it’s biting him in the ass since if he had told us anything we might be able to help him now but we can’t”.
It’s true our uncle had never divulged much about his life he had always told us that what he did was very important but never actually told us just what it was. So we grew up never knowing what our uncle did for a living I always imagined he was a secret agent, Vance always deduced that he was a hit man for the mafia, and Grant put a whole kibosh on both our fantasies and said he was probably just a pencil pusher. We never did find out even now we had no idea what he did for a living and this rate it was becoming clear that we probably never would. Just as I was about to give Grant a piece of my mind I realized that Vance had disappeared into the house again only this time when he came back he was carrying a large brown box. “What’s that you’ve got there?” asked Grant as he got out of his chair and walked over to get a better look, the package was non descript save for the label with the address we looked it over wondering what was inside. “I found it on the porch” Vance said with a shrug of his shoulders “I heard someone knock on the door but by the time I got there they were already gone and all they left was this package,” he explained. “Then why the hell did you bring it to us?” shrieked Grant jumping back from the package “For all we know there’s some kind of horrible disease in there! Or worse! A bomb!” he cried as he threw his hands in the air, I just rolled my eyes as I inspected the package examining the address I realized that this package wasn’t meant for us but was supposed to be delivered down the street to a guy named Mr. Hawthorne.
“Mr. Hawthorne…” Vance trailed off dousing his innards in more white vinegar and gazing at me with a look that said, “so what should we do now?” I just looked at him and mouthed, “How should I know?” I looked up at the overcast sky. It was severely dreary out here, cold and everything was the same dull shade of gray, it was only 10 in the morning but it was dark due to lack of sunlight and the trees were stripped bare of leaves by the winter winds. I liked winter but this was just starting to get depressing. Grant was still cowering in the brambles and unkempt bushes as Vance guzzled more vinegar and stared at the box. “We should bring this to him” I declared and faintly heard a sob of distress echoing out of the deepest reaches of the bushes “Damn you and your good natured crap” wailed Grant as he dragged his fingers down his face and crawled out of the branches covered in leaves and pieces of spider webs. “It’s the right thing to do and he is Uncle Ira’s neighbor maybe he knows where he is,” I said calmly although I was secretly fighting the urge to beat Grant senseless after all his whining.
“Fine so we deliver this seemingly dangerous package to this Hawthorne guy, and then what? What if he doesn’t know a thing about where Ira could be? What do we do then Mr. smarty-pants?” he asked in a condescending tone, I was so close to bashing his nose in, and how good it would have felt too, but I managed to restrain myself and growl out “If he doesn’t know where he is we ask if he knows anyone who would, anyone we could see, any number we could call, and if that doesn’t work we’ll just come back here and make grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup and call it a day, that sound like a plan to you?” I said hands on my hips and standing in front of him nose to nose. Grant reared back and gave a mirthless laugh and drawled “Sure! Why the hell not? It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do! By the way I like that condensed tomato soup that you add water to”. Vance made a face like he had just eaten something unsavory and I just rolled my eyes as we made our way back into the cold house, tossed our dishes in the empty sink, and pulled our coats on and began our walk done the street with Mr. Hawthorne’s package.
SCRAMBLED EGGS AND THE HAWTHORNE AFFAIR
We woke early the next morning only to discover that Uncle Ira still wasn’t there. The house was drafty as we trudged about the hallways searching for him but as the first few rays of sunlight peeked through the windows it started to warm up. We pulled on our clothes in a daze and went down to the 50-degree kitchen to cook breakfast. Once we had managed to scrape something halfway satisfying together we went to eat out in the garden. There were over turned flowerpots and overgrown bushes and the lawn chairs were sagging just enough to remain comfortable as I looked on towards the dilapidated gate I thought about our current circumstances. “I think we should go and look for Uncle Ira,” I said amidst the crunching of toast and the slurping of eggs. Grant just gave me a sour look as he crept back to his mountain of scrambled eggs Vance looked as if he was going to say something but thought better of it and shuffled back to the house mumbling something about vinegar.
Vance’s attempts to stay sober never lasted long but his new methods seemed to be working as he had adopted the consumption of other liquids such as balsamic vinegar and the like. “How do you expect us to find him?” Grant asked as he stabbed his sausages with his fork “We haven’t heard anything from him, we don’t even have a number to reach him by. Mom and Dad said he was away on business and should be back by the time we got here but he wasn’t and we don’t even know where he could be…hell! We don’t even know what he does for a living!” He looked livid as he often did and only gave me another discontented look as he viciously ripped into his toast and guzzled down his mug of orange juice. I was sullen as Vance staggered back to his seat with a bottle of vinegar and began to gulp it down as if it were water. “I know there’s not a whole lot to go by but we have to do something! We can’t just sit around here all winter and he never comes back. What if he’s hurt or something?” I asked and Grant only gave me another dirty look as he firmly set his plate on the ground and glared daggers at me before saying “Well that’s his own fault then isn’t it? He’s always been mister secretive never giving away too much about his work or personal affairs and I guess now it’s biting him in the ass since if he had told us anything we might be able to help him now but we can’t”.
It’s true our uncle had never divulged much about his life he had always told us that what he did was very important but never actually told us just what it was. So we grew up never knowing what our uncle did for a living I always imagined he was a secret agent, Vance always deduced that he was a hit man for the mafia, and Grant put a whole kibosh on both our fantasies and said he was probably just a pencil pusher. We never did find out even now we had no idea what he did for a living and this rate it was becoming clear that we probably never would. Just as I was about to give Grant a piece of my mind I realized that Vance had disappeared into the house again only this time when he came back he was carrying a large brown box. “What’s that you’ve got there?” asked Grant as he got out of his chair and walked over to get a better look, the package was non descript save for the label with the address we looked it over wondering what was inside. “I found it on the porch” Vance said with a shrug of his shoulders “I heard someone knock on the door but by the time I got there they were already gone and all they left was this package,” he explained. “Then why the hell did you bring it to us?” shrieked Grant jumping back from the package “For all we know there’s some kind of horrible disease in there! Or worse! A bomb!” he cried as he threw his hands in the air, I just rolled my eyes as I inspected the package examining the address I realized that this package wasn’t meant for us but was supposed to be delivered down the street to a guy named Mr. Hawthorne.
“Mr. Hawthorne…” Vance trailed off dousing his innards in more white vinegar and gazing at me with a look that said, “so what should we do now?” I just looked at him and mouthed, “How should I know?” I looked up at the overcast sky. It was severely dreary out here, cold and everything was the same dull shade of gray, it was only 10 in the morning but it was dark due to lack of sunlight and the trees were stripped bare of leaves by the winter winds. I liked winter but this was just starting to get depressing. Grant was still cowering in the brambles and unkempt bushes as Vance guzzled more vinegar and stared at the box. “We should bring this to him” I declared and faintly heard a sob of distress echoing out of the deepest reaches of the bushes “Damn you and your good natured crap” wailed Grant as he dragged his fingers down his face and crawled out of the branches covered in leaves and pieces of spider webs. “It’s the right thing to do and he is Uncle Ira’s neighbor maybe he knows where he is,” I said calmly although I was secretly fighting the urge to beat Grant senseless after all his whining.
“Fine so we deliver this seemingly dangerous package to this Hawthorne guy, and then what? What if he doesn’t know a thing about where Ira could be? What do we do then Mr. smarty-pants?” he asked in a condescending tone, I was so close to bashing his nose in, and how good it would have felt too, but I managed to restrain myself and growl out “If he doesn’t know where he is we ask if he knows anyone who would, anyone we could see, any number we could call, and if that doesn’t work we’ll just come back here and make grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup and call it a day, that sound like a plan to you?” I said hands on my hips and standing in front of him nose to nose. Grant reared back and gave a mirthless laugh and drawled “Sure! Why the hell not? It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do! By the way I like that condensed tomato soup that you add water to”. Vance made a face like he had just eaten something unsavory and I just rolled my eyes as we made our way back into the cold house, tossed our dishes in the empty sink, and pulled our coats on and began our walk done the street with Mr. Hawthorne’s package.