Another Story!
Okay, finsh another story. Did most of this one today (I'm so proound of myself), and while I'd like to have more time to go over it and make changes, I can't. Oh, well, I got it done, right?
Thanks to Seth for catching some of my stupid mistakes (I know there are tons in there.)
Hmm.... I like the potential polt behind this one. But because I felt rushed to finish it I ended up rushing the story too. Stupid me.
Anyway, I hope those who read this like it. And as usual comments and crits are enjoyed and welcomed.
=D
A Rain Storm
“Christ, Ethan, turn the damn windshield wipers on. You’re gonna freaking kill us!”
“Clay, look, I’m driving. I’ll turn the windshield wipers on when I freaking feel like it,” Ethan waited for a few moments and then turned on the windshield wipers.
“So, where do you guys wanna go?”
No one answered for a few minutes. They all just sat in silence, trying to thinking of some place to eat and letting the car’s rumble and pattering rain speak for them.
Rustle, who was sitting in the back, leaned forward and suggested, “Hmm… what about Denny’s?”
“God, no. Worst food and waitresses ever. You have seen the waitresses there, haven’t you?”
“Yea, they’re not that bad -”
“Clay, after we kill Mr. Thames let’s off Rustle, too.”
“Fuck you, it was just a suggestion.”
“And I was just yanking your chain. You need to loosen up, learn to take a joke.” Ethan turned around and winked at Rustle. Rustle didn’t like that.
Clay sighed and then said, “Both of you shut up. We’re going to Mickey D’s so there’s no need to argue.”
“Wait, why do you get to pick? I’m driving.”
“I’m picking because if I don’t, you both’ll keep fighting like little babies and I’ll end up cutting your balls off. Got it?”
“McDonald’s it is. I love their chicken nuggets.”
Rustle leaned back and shifted to the left-hand side of the car, “I’ll just have a Whopper,” he said staring out the window.
Clay and Ethan started to laugh.
a
“What?” He demanded. No answer. “What?!”
Ethan answered him between laughs, “McD’s - dosen’t have - Whoppers. That’s - Burger King.” He finished the sentence with another insult.
The two kept laughing. Rustle scowled.
Trying to sink into his seat, Rustle tried to explain, “I didn’t know.” Neither of the men up front heard him over their laughter.
* * *
“How’s that Whopper treatin’ ya, Rustle?” Ethan smirked as he stuffed some French fries into his mouth.
“Mphf, mif vwey goof!” he chirped up from the backseat. His mood had improved a great deal from twenty minutes earlier. Ethan had noticed food seemed to boost Rustle’s mood and kept him from being snappish.
Rustle didn’t bother to clear his mouth as he messily devoured his Big Mac.
“I swear, if you mess up my upholstery.... This car is brand new,” Ethan warned.
“Turn here, at the light,” ordered Clay. He managed to launch a french fry out of his mouth and on to the floor of the car.
“Pick that up.”
“Christ,” Clay murmured, “It’s just a freaking fry.”
He leaned down to pick up the fry just as Ethan started the turn. Moving his feet to correct his balance, Clay stepped on and smashed the french fry into the carpet. “Opps.”
“Opps, what?” Ethan looked down, “Jesus Christ! You dumbass! You’re paying to get that cleaned.”
“Shut up! Do not piss me off!” Clay’s breathing was heavy, his face was turning red.
Jesus, this guy’s fuse is short. I’d better just let him have his way for now.
“Fine, forget about it.”
After that, no one spoke for a while; they all just sat draped in discomfort. Clay would break the silence every now and then to give directions. They were headed across the bay to the uptown.
Why does Lou have business with someone from uptown? Most of the guys up there are connected with a different family... Unless...
Ethan stopped that line of thought almost immediately. There was no way Lou would betray them.... He didn’t think.
“Anyway, what’s the plan?” Ethan had suddenly remembered he hadn’t been briefed for this run.
“Same old, same old as far as I know, why?”
“Eh, nothing. How close are we?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
Rustle, “I’m getting hungry again.”
“Jesus, we just ate an hour ago.”
“I know.... but, I’m hungry. I can’t help it.”
“We can’t stop. We’re already late as it is. Ethan, step on it.”
Ethan sped up as much as he cared to with the rain coming down so heavy.
* * *
“Okay, next right and the house is number 423.”
“Fuckin’ finally. Why is Lou dealing with guys way out here anyway?”
“No idea, but let’s just get this done, okay? I don’t want to be out here any longer then I have to.”
Ethan pulled into the driveway. The two men in the front got out. Rustle was asleep in the back.
“God damn it! Go wake Rustle up. Of all the times to fall asleep, Jesus.”
After rousing Rustle and getting him on his feet the two men walked towards the house. Ethan and Clay drew guns.
“Okay, basic hit plan. You two in the front, I’ll take the back.” Clay headed around the side of the house.
While Ethan stood out of sight, Rustle rang the doorbell. A light went on upstairs and they could hear someone muttering something unintelligible through the glass and wood..
Finally, someone answered the door. It was an older man, probably around fifty. “Who the hell are you? And why are you ringing my doorbell at two in the morning?”
“Mr. John Thames?” Rustle asked.
“Yes,” The man replied, his scowl deepening. “What do you want?” Rustle merely smiled and stepped to the side, Ethan stepped into view and took his place next to Rustle, he pointed the gun at the man’s forehead. “Because we can. Now, hands up, get inside and no noise. One peep out of you and I’ll splatter your brains all over the floor.”
All three men walked into the house.
* * *
Out back, Clay was having a much harder time. He was cold and wet and had discovered, after scaling the fence and climb up the deck without making excessive noise, that Mr. Thames kept two very large dogs as pets.
“Ah, fuck it all.” he had started, but the two dogs were already after him. With each bound he could feel the deck vibrate, the dogs must weight over one-hundred pounds each! Doing what he did best he drew his gun, and fired.
* * *
Rustle checked his watch: 3:04 A.M. It’s been.... three hours since he’d last had food. He’d need some soon. Normally it took about four hours before....
“Keep an eye on him, will you? I’ll be right back.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“To get some food, I need it.”
“Food?! Why the hell do you need food right now?!”
“Just because! Keep an eye on him!” Rustle was yelling.
“Fine, go, but make it snappy. See if you can find Clay while you’re back there.”
Rustle stomped towards the kitchen.
* * *
BANG! BANG! Two gun shots rang out from the back of the house. A window behind Rustle shattered and a bullet whizzed by his head, Rustle dropped the gallon of milk he was holding and dropped to the floor.
“What the fuck?!” shouted Ethan.
“Not so loud!” Rustle called back down the hallway.
“Go see what’s happening.”
Why do I have to go check? You have the gun.
Rustle began to crawl toward the door. With each foot Rustle took towards the door, his stomach dropped ten. It was happening again, he could feel it set on. He could feel his knees weaken, his head begin to swim and his vision darken, and his stomach rumble with a cry for food. And three feet from the door it over took him and Rustle collapsed. He was unconscious.
* * *
As Clay watched, the closest dog jumped, paws outstretched and jaws gaping at him. With his first shot he had managed to kill it - shot it down the throat. But the flying body had kept its momentum and sailed at him. The one-hundred pounds of fur and teeth collided into Clay and knocked him down the twelve steps onto the concrete deck.
His head cracked solidly on ground, killing Clay, next to him, his gun landed and discharged and shot into the house.
* * *
“Rustle? Rustle?! God damn it! Answer!”
Ethan was frantic. What was he going to do? Did something happen to Rustle? To Clay?
Mr. Thames began to laugh.
“Stop it! Stop! Stop laughing!” He waved the gun at him.
Thames whistled a little tune.
“Shut up!” Ethan roared. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He was out of his depth. Thames smiled at him and from upstairs he heard movement. Down the stairs came several men. Men with guns.
“Oh Christ.” Ethan thought.
Thanks to Seth for catching some of my stupid mistakes (I know there are tons in there.)
Hmm.... I like the potential polt behind this one. But because I felt rushed to finish it I ended up rushing the story too. Stupid me.
Anyway, I hope those who read this like it. And as usual comments and crits are enjoyed and welcomed.
=D
A Rain Storm
“Christ, Ethan, turn the damn windshield wipers on. You’re gonna freaking kill us!”
“Clay, look, I’m driving. I’ll turn the windshield wipers on when I freaking feel like it,” Ethan waited for a few moments and then turned on the windshield wipers.
“So, where do you guys wanna go?”
No one answered for a few minutes. They all just sat in silence, trying to thinking of some place to eat and letting the car’s rumble and pattering rain speak for them.
Rustle, who was sitting in the back, leaned forward and suggested, “Hmm… what about Denny’s?”
“God, no. Worst food and waitresses ever. You have seen the waitresses there, haven’t you?”
“Yea, they’re not that bad -”
“Clay, after we kill Mr. Thames let’s off Rustle, too.”
“Fuck you, it was just a suggestion.”
“And I was just yanking your chain. You need to loosen up, learn to take a joke.” Ethan turned around and winked at Rustle. Rustle didn’t like that.
Clay sighed and then said, “Both of you shut up. We’re going to Mickey D’s so there’s no need to argue.”
“Wait, why do you get to pick? I’m driving.”
“I’m picking because if I don’t, you both’ll keep fighting like little babies and I’ll end up cutting your balls off. Got it?”
“McDonald’s it is. I love their chicken nuggets.”
Rustle leaned back and shifted to the left-hand side of the car, “I’ll just have a Whopper,” he said staring out the window.
Clay and Ethan started to laugh.
a
“What?” He demanded. No answer. “What?!”
Ethan answered him between laughs, “McD’s - dosen’t have - Whoppers. That’s - Burger King.” He finished the sentence with another insult.
The two kept laughing. Rustle scowled.
Trying to sink into his seat, Rustle tried to explain, “I didn’t know.” Neither of the men up front heard him over their laughter.
* * *
“How’s that Whopper treatin’ ya, Rustle?” Ethan smirked as he stuffed some French fries into his mouth.
“Mphf, mif vwey goof!” he chirped up from the backseat. His mood had improved a great deal from twenty minutes earlier. Ethan had noticed food seemed to boost Rustle’s mood and kept him from being snappish.
Rustle didn’t bother to clear his mouth as he messily devoured his Big Mac.
“I swear, if you mess up my upholstery.... This car is brand new,” Ethan warned.
“Turn here, at the light,” ordered Clay. He managed to launch a french fry out of his mouth and on to the floor of the car.
“Pick that up.”
“Christ,” Clay murmured, “It’s just a freaking fry.”
He leaned down to pick up the fry just as Ethan started the turn. Moving his feet to correct his balance, Clay stepped on and smashed the french fry into the carpet. “Opps.”
“Opps, what?” Ethan looked down, “Jesus Christ! You dumbass! You’re paying to get that cleaned.”
“Shut up! Do not piss me off!” Clay’s breathing was heavy, his face was turning red.
Jesus, this guy’s fuse is short. I’d better just let him have his way for now.
“Fine, forget about it.”
After that, no one spoke for a while; they all just sat draped in discomfort. Clay would break the silence every now and then to give directions. They were headed across the bay to the uptown.
Why does Lou have business with someone from uptown? Most of the guys up there are connected with a different family... Unless...
Ethan stopped that line of thought almost immediately. There was no way Lou would betray them.... He didn’t think.
“Anyway, what’s the plan?” Ethan had suddenly remembered he hadn’t been briefed for this run.
“Same old, same old as far as I know, why?”
“Eh, nothing. How close are we?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
Rustle, “I’m getting hungry again.”
“Jesus, we just ate an hour ago.”
“I know.... but, I’m hungry. I can’t help it.”
“We can’t stop. We’re already late as it is. Ethan, step on it.”
Ethan sped up as much as he cared to with the rain coming down so heavy.
* * *
“Okay, next right and the house is number 423.”
“Fuckin’ finally. Why is Lou dealing with guys way out here anyway?”
“No idea, but let’s just get this done, okay? I don’t want to be out here any longer then I have to.”
Ethan pulled into the driveway. The two men in the front got out. Rustle was asleep in the back.
“God damn it! Go wake Rustle up. Of all the times to fall asleep, Jesus.”
After rousing Rustle and getting him on his feet the two men walked towards the house. Ethan and Clay drew guns.
“Okay, basic hit plan. You two in the front, I’ll take the back.” Clay headed around the side of the house.
While Ethan stood out of sight, Rustle rang the doorbell. A light went on upstairs and they could hear someone muttering something unintelligible through the glass and wood..
Finally, someone answered the door. It was an older man, probably around fifty. “Who the hell are you? And why are you ringing my doorbell at two in the morning?”
“Mr. John Thames?” Rustle asked.
“Yes,” The man replied, his scowl deepening. “What do you want?” Rustle merely smiled and stepped to the side, Ethan stepped into view and took his place next to Rustle, he pointed the gun at the man’s forehead. “Because we can. Now, hands up, get inside and no noise. One peep out of you and I’ll splatter your brains all over the floor.”
All three men walked into the house.
* * *
Out back, Clay was having a much harder time. He was cold and wet and had discovered, after scaling the fence and climb up the deck without making excessive noise, that Mr. Thames kept two very large dogs as pets.
“Ah, fuck it all.” he had started, but the two dogs were already after him. With each bound he could feel the deck vibrate, the dogs must weight over one-hundred pounds each! Doing what he did best he drew his gun, and fired.
* * *
Rustle checked his watch: 3:04 A.M. It’s been.... three hours since he’d last had food. He’d need some soon. Normally it took about four hours before....
“Keep an eye on him, will you? I’ll be right back.”
“What? Where are you going?”
“To get some food, I need it.”
“Food?! Why the hell do you need food right now?!”
“Just because! Keep an eye on him!” Rustle was yelling.
“Fine, go, but make it snappy. See if you can find Clay while you’re back there.”
Rustle stomped towards the kitchen.
* * *
BANG! BANG! Two gun shots rang out from the back of the house. A window behind Rustle shattered and a bullet whizzed by his head, Rustle dropped the gallon of milk he was holding and dropped to the floor.
“What the fuck?!” shouted Ethan.
“Not so loud!” Rustle called back down the hallway.
“Go see what’s happening.”
Why do I have to go check? You have the gun.
Rustle began to crawl toward the door. With each foot Rustle took towards the door, his stomach dropped ten. It was happening again, he could feel it set on. He could feel his knees weaken, his head begin to swim and his vision darken, and his stomach rumble with a cry for food. And three feet from the door it over took him and Rustle collapsed. He was unconscious.
* * *
As Clay watched, the closest dog jumped, paws outstretched and jaws gaping at him. With his first shot he had managed to kill it - shot it down the throat. But the flying body had kept its momentum and sailed at him. The one-hundred pounds of fur and teeth collided into Clay and knocked him down the twelve steps onto the concrete deck.
His head cracked solidly on ground, killing Clay, next to him, his gun landed and discharged and shot into the house.
* * *
“Rustle? Rustle?! God damn it! Answer!”
Ethan was frantic. What was he going to do? Did something happen to Rustle? To Clay?
Mr. Thames began to laugh.
“Stop it! Stop! Stop laughing!” He waved the gun at him.
Thames whistled a little tune.
“Shut up!” Ethan roared. He couldn’t deal with this right now. He was out of his depth. Thames smiled at him and from upstairs he heard movement. Down the stairs came several men. Men with guns.
“Oh Christ.” Ethan thought.