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| In which notepads and pens become scary.
Noble W. (xanga: April_muse)
(Before we progress any farther into the story I must introduce the two ordinary cousins who just happened be Italian mafia hit-men. The eldest was Guido Jr., now Guido was not a small man, in fact he looked as if nature had intended to make a gorilla and had changed its mind at the last moment. Unfortunately nature hadn't quite managed to flip the off switch on the gorilla-making-machine until *after* Guido’s brain was fully gorilla-sized. Caprone was next, and despite his interesting name he was the one who always got good grades in the Italian mafia hit-men school, and who always remembered that the end of the gun with the hole in it is the end that faces the guy you’re shooting at.)
Back to the story:
The two ordinary Italian mafia hit-men followed Walter into the dinning room, and after having chairs produced for them, sat down. After the ordinary pause, Caprone, remember he’s the smart one, decided it was time to get down to business and asked everyone, except Walter, to exit the dinning room, ASAP. After a brief interruption in the plan by Laura’s unwillingness to leave her ordinary peas alone, the three men were in the kitchen alone. (or they were as alone as you can get with two other people in the room)
“So…what can I do for you gentlemen?” Walter asked.
“We need something you’ve got. And we need it *now*.” Caprone looked pointedly at his brother.
Following Caprone’s gaze, Walter saw Guido start fingering something rather large in his left coat pocket. He paused and swallowed convulsively, something that looked like a Pekingese taking a pill. “Well, if you’ll tell me what it is you need, I’ll be happy to help.”
Guido got this disturbingly evil grin on his face. Still grinning, he reached deep into his pocket, and pulled out…a neon pink notepad and a furry purple pen!
Caprone spoke once more, “We want…”
Suddenly a large explosion…well…exploded…in the living room, which was right across the hall from the dinning room. Springing out of their chairs with amazing agility, the three men made a mad dash out of the kitchen, which was only slightly impeded by Guido’s right foot getting caught in the rungs of the chair he had been occupying.
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How an Ordinary Dinner Table Comes to Need a Few More Chairs
(Author: Allison, Xanga: theautumnrain)
Walter stared at the ordinary Italian hitmen. A tiny crease of a
frown crinkled vertically down his forehead. "Do I know you?" he asked.
And he took a slight step backward. He was, to tell our audience the
blatant truth, just a tad worried. After all, when an otherwise very
ordinary day is brought to a shuddering close by the entry of two,
tall, strong, machine-like, briefcase toting hitmen, one is bound to
feel a few shivers.
"Do we know him?" The two men standing just outside the door glanced
at each other; and it may here be noted that the fleeting glance shared
between the two contained not a little surprise. Suddenly, the man on
the right looked swiftly over his shoulder, gave his cohort a hearty
shove, and they were in the house. "Presto! close de door," said this
man to Walter. Walter did as he was told. "You ask, 'Do I know you.' I
says to myself, 'Does I know him?' And then I has an answer. Aha! Si!
We haf met before under more, em, pleasant circumstances."
"We have?"
"Si, amigo. Do you not remember Great Uncle Guido's chicken farm,
just outside Bologna? Twenty-five years ago? And your two cousins -
with whom you rode the calves and terrorized the geese?"
"You - ? You mean - ? You're - ?"
"Si, the very same."
Walter was perplexed and slightly over-joyed. "Well, then, why don't
you sit down?" he said, somewhat dubiously. "My wife cooks some
excellent peas."
[Edit 11:07 AM, 9/5/05]
One minor typo corrected. -Jordan
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| An Ordinary Beginning
by Jordan
(xanga: the_penguin_boy)
Welcome to the land of Qrrbrbirlbel, where anything can happen.
Our story starts off with a man named Walter. Walter is a man in his
mid 30s with a wife, Katrina, a four year old daughter, Laura, and a
bouncing baby boy, Frederic. He has a car, a two-story house, and lives
what appears to be an ordinary life. But, unbeknownst to Walter and his
family, his life is about to become all but ordinary. We begin with an
ordinary dinner conversation-
"Pass me the peas, will you honey?" Walter pointed to an ordinary bowl of peas across the table.
As she passed him the peas, Katrina noted in an ordinary fashion, "Some men came to see you today."
Walter looked up as he scooped some ordinary peas onto his lap. "Men? What kind of men? What did they want?"
"Oh, you know. Just ordinary men. They didn't say what they wanted,
though; just that they wanted to talk to you as soon as you were
available."
"And what did you tell them?" Walter said, plucking the ordinary peas out of his lap and putting them back on his plate.
"I said you'd be back later this evening. Why?"
There was a knock at the door.
Walter looked at his wife across the ordinary table, wiped his mouth
with his napkin, set it on the table, got up, and walked down the
hallway towards the door.
The door. It was an ordinary door. No fancy woodwork, no windows, no
frills, just a slab of wood with an ordinary knob on it. He turned the
knob to open the door. Behind it, he found two, ordinary men standing
in the rain on his front porch, each wearing a black business suit and
a black fedora hat, and carying a briefcase. Their faces were
emotionless. They were quite well built, almost machine like in
complexion. Just your ordinary Italian mafia hitmen on a business call.
[Edit 11:06 AM, 9/5/05]
Minor spelling and grammar corrections. -Jordan
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