Collection 2
And here is the probably not very awaited 2nd collection. I have decided that when I post 3 up, I will choose one and continue it for another post, just like Ahs Voi S'Zhet. Well, okay, never mind, I'll let YOU, the READER, decide! After 10 people demand which one they want most, I'll tally them up and do the most wanted one.
Enjoy.
Improvements.
'I will not stop doing what is right!' The struggling man in my hands yelled at the top of his voice. 'Even if it is wrong!
'So you won't stop murdering helpless girls in their sleep?' Sergeant Rindley asked, grappling the young man's hands more firmly together.
'Damn right!'
'Why not?' I asked incredulously. I punched him in the kidney to try and stop his flailing.
'That's just not how I roll, son!' He groaned.
Rindley and I looked at each other meaningfuly, accepting it as a lost case. We'd done plenty nut jobs before.
I pulled the weasel's head back, fingers tightly holding his hair, then ramned his face into the wall six or seven times. Blood splattered, and a crunching sound announced his demise by bone through brain.
'You want me to get this one?' Rindley asked, dropping the perps hands.
I sighed, and let the corpse drop to the ground. 'Nah, I'll handle it.'
I pulled my force pistol out, and placed it against the still bleeding head.
'Wait, Jim, I'm-!' Rindley yelled, jumping backwards.
'Calm down,' I said, and pulled the lever. The head disintegrated, splashing more gore against the wall.
'Hunh,' Rindley commented, shrugging his shoulders. 'That wasn't so bad. How'd you stop the backsplash?'
'Oh, you know me,' I replied, shaking the weapon off. 'Always did have that gift to it.'
I looked up at Rindley and smiled.
'What?' He asked, tipped off by my wry amusement.
'Looks like I didn't stop all of it...' I said, pointing to his upper lip. Some blood had flecked onto his bushy mustache. 'You, ah... you got some on your...' I pointed at my own face to provide a reference point.
He lightly dabbed at his truly awesome face foliage with his hand, then laughed at such a small amount.
'I love this job,' he guffawed. 'Great pay, plenty of exercise! And I got the greatest copilot a cop could ask for!' He laughed some more and pulled the cruiser's sliding door up.
'Yeah, yeah, plenty of exercise my ass! You let me do all the running!' I laughed back, poking his thick stomach.
'Well, that's 'cause you're better at it than I am!' He shot back.
We both roared with laughter, as I hauled the body into the compartment. Just two crazy cops in an even crazier world.
It didn't used to be this way, but it was an improvement. You could finally walk around the streets without fearing for your life.
Yes, it was definitely an improvement...
Improvements was inspired by a note I wrote to myself back in highschool. I don't know why I had written it at the time, maybe just to laugh at some idiot, but earlier this day this scenario just played its merry little way through my head. And yeah, what if it is pretty short? Who's writing it anyhow? Me or me?
**********************
Tan Man.
A tan man in crumpled black slacks and creased black dress shirt slid his overly expensive hover vehicle into a no parking zone, then latched his handicap placard onto the rearview mirror. The no parking zone was in front of an overly expensive restaurant that glowed brightly from within. Smells of finest culinary art wafted into the streets from the open front door, repulsing the driver.
With a sigh he ran a hand through his sandy hair, scratching behind his ears. His muzzle was gnarled and scarred, and the women often fainted in from just being in his presence, and not from fear of his looks.
On this planet, scars represented dominance, and demanded obediance on a primal level.
And although he may look ugly at first sight, he held his face handsomely, and with a grace one would be lucky to see in ones lifetime.
With a grumble he slid on the resticting black dress shoes. He hated them with a passion, and wished they weren't so damn stylish. He kept telling himself he would get more comfortable insoles, but he hardly ever used them, so he always forgot.
As he swung the door open, another man appeared at the door. This man was wearing more comfortable, missmatching clothes, and was mostly grey and silver. The new man would have been a perfect reflection of the man in black, if it weren't for his obvious age and lack of scars.
'Hello dad,' The tan man said, holdig a hand out, palm facing forward.
His father put his own palm against his son's, and then nodded a brief welcoming gesture.
'Shall we?' he asked, then turned and walked into the restaurant.
With another sigh, the tan man followed. He hated this place almost as much as he did the pain his shoes made him suffer.
'Dalla'anara,' the tan man heard his father say to the Maitre D'. 'Party of six.'
The woman checked her list, then nodded in affirmation. 'Right this way, sir.' she replied.
As she scanned for anyone else who might have been in the party, her eyes took in the tan man. With a gasp that barely escaped her sleek muzzle, she grabbed her stomach and quivered. Curious women around the reception area had much the same reaction to seeing him. The men flattened ears back and averted eyes.
The tan man grumbled to himself, then told the quivering woman to take them to the table.
She nodded jerkily, then hurried ahead of them, nearly running to comply. The tan man glared at his father, who was beeming at him, like he was some trophy that he was showing off. The tan man hated that, and could barely stand the reactions without getting riled up.
All those slobs in places like these never lifted a finger to make the money the squandered. That was why they quaked in his presence. Back where he had gotten the scars, it was commonplace, so nobody cared much if you didn't expose most or all of your body for scrutiny. Some had done it so long there, that it was just how they went about life.
But these cowards in these expensive places.
He tried not to think about it anymore. He had growled slightly while suppressing the urge to ransack the place, and young woman he had been facing at the time wet herself then fainted.
If anything, his father beamed more.
With a disgusted mental sigh, he followed the jumpy Maitre D' to a table on the third floor. The elevator ride was unpleasant for the tan man, to say the least. He didn't enjoy enclosed places.
As they sat down, the tan man glanced around. He gave his father a questioning glace.
'Your mother is in the ladies room.' He replied, and the tan man grunted in disgusted acknowledgement.
She was always in the ladies room. He knew full well why too, and it wasn't because she had makeup.
A few minutes later, she came sweeping around the corner of a glass wall, her blood red dress reflecting the light, looking not the least bit flustered. That always perplexed him. She never looked anything different than completely dignified, even after a 'session' in the ladies room. He supposed she was just that much of a frigid bitch.
She sat down as if she was a queen, and again the tan man wondered how she did it.
With a hmph the tan man rested his head upon his hand, his elbow placed on the table top, keeping him up.
'Marcanio!' His father suddenly cried out, his booming voice cutting through the low chatter in the dining area. 'What took you old friend!'
A slightly short, and heavily fat man who was walking down the center isle, waved frenetically, a big silly grin on his face. 'Obelesko!' He called back.
The tan man's father jumped up and strode over to him, meeting him half way.
'Oliviara!' he said to the tall elegant looking woman hanging on the fat man's arm. As flattering as ever!'
She held a hand palm up, and the tan man's father licked it. 'As ever...' She echoed him.
The tan man interpreted heavily into that.
Marcanio and Obelesko swung their arms wide and clasped each other in a giant hug. After much laughter and light hearted name calling, they broke apart, revealing to the tan man a beautiful red woman that had followed them.
His interest piqued, he raised an eyebrow to open more of his vision. She had long dark brown hair that nearly reached to her waist, and her dress was a deep purple, so dark it was almost black. It hugged her figure quite nicely, and the tan man could only wonder if she had been sewn into it.
Probably, he thought, if the parents knew his father this well.
So this was the wench his father was presenting him now.
He hated it. He could feal bile rise up in him, his anger flaring. Again he growled, low and deep and threatening. His fur raised a little along his back, under his shirt, and the tips of his canines poked out briefly to flash bright white.
His father looked at him warningly, then went back to his conversation.
The poor girl was sweating under his scrutiny, her legs becoming unsteady.
Abruptly the tan man stopped growling, a pleasing thought running through his mind.
What would his father do if he stripped the woman, then paraded around the restaurant with her flipped over his shoulder. That would sure embarrass his family.
With a wag of his tail, he imagined ripping the fine dress from the red woman.
The mother's eyes flashed for a moment, directed at the tan man, then settled back to their normal half lidded contempt. The motion went completely unnoticed.
With a start, the tan man stood up and walked toward the red woman.
Tan Man was inspired by a thought I had the other day at a local diner while out with family. Now, my family is kewl, but I really can't stand being around my parents for much of any amount of time. So there I was, eating my omelette, when suddenly it hit me. What if I ran around the restaurant like a silly fool with my pants around my legs, yelling and screaming like a crazy. Suffice to say, I didn't, because if I had, I'd be a slammer still.
**********************
Banana Peels.
'Lauder.' A voice said.
'Lauder!' It said again.
'Laaaaauuudeeeeerrr...' It was annoying, to be sure.
I squeezed my eyes tighter and groaned into my pillow.
'Go fuck yourself.' I said under my breath.
'Now, now, Brandy, that isn't the way to talk to an officer of the law...'
I snapped my head up. There was a cop, who happened to not be my mother, to my massive dismay, standing in front of my bed.
A line a friend of mine looped through my head. Oh shit, banana peels! it kept saying. Over and over, at a million miles an hour. Then it screeched to a stop, and the gravity of the situation hit me like a train wreck.
1) There was a police woman standing over me, holding a gun at my face.
B) She was in my HOUSE.
III) There was a gun , in my face!
'Ugh...' I said, completely at a loss for words.
'I'll help you.' She said, dangling a pair of handcuffs above my head. 'Put these on.'
Oh shit, banana peels!
She dropped the metal bracelets. They clacked against my skull, drawing a yelp out of me.
'Oops,' she said mockingly. 'Sorry if I don't care about a murderer...'
'What...?' I asked, completely bewildered.
'Don't try and deny it, you crazy screw-ball,' a man's voice said from behind me. 'We caught you on video surveillance.'
'What... I don't... Murder...?' I spluttered, still absolutely confused.
'Just get the hell up...' The woman said.
I could hear the man behind me talking his cop jargon into a radio.
I slowly got up, putting my hands above my head, holding onto the cuffs. I slid off the bed, standing in my night shirt and pants, and put my hands behind my back. I tried to push the links together, but I couldn't see what I was doing, so I kept banging them against my hand by accident.
I looked behind me at the bear man, and asked for assistance. 'I uh... I can't seem to get the... uhm... yeah.. a little help please?'
He looked at me like he wanted nothing more than to shoot me right then and there.
A short trip to the precinct and a new change of clothes later, and I was being filled in on what I apparently did while I slept.
They showed me a video of myself walking along, perfectly normal night, and as I passed some person I straight up and shot her. Bang, in the head. Then I looked at the camera, then turned and walked away, like nothing had happened. Just like that.
My head was spinning. I couldn't believe what my eyes were showing me.
Oh shit, banana peels!
I looked up at the other man in the room, I'd missed his name when I was brought in.
'I... did that...?' I asked, throat tightening, like I had taken too big a bite of spaghetti without enough butter on it, at it was caught.
I started to hyperventilate. I wasn't getting enough air in my lungs, my vision faded, then blurred. I saw him talking to me, but the world had suddenly gone into slow motion, and tunnel visioned out of control. I stopped seeing colors, and the shadows got thicker.
I started to fall, but the man just stood there. My chest hurt, and the left side of my body tingled.
My heart beat fluttered.
The world came back full tilt, and suddenly I was flopping limply, my body spasming out of control on the floor. I realised I was watching as if in third person, but at the same time, witnessing it from my normal view.
My mouth worked over time, and after a few second of watching it, I realised I was trying to say Oh shit, banana peels! over and over and over again.
The wolf man in the suit was at my side, trying to hold me still, shouting over his shoulder.
I heard more shouting, and the bang of the door opening, and time slowed to a crawl again.
A spit bubble, formed from my overworking saliva glands, distended oddly, then popped. More drool slipped out of my mouth.
My stomach hurt as if I had gotten shot, and I tried to curl in a feotal position to ease it, but the medics were there now, pushing me onto a gurney, and they strapped me down.
One medic made an incision into my throat, past the sealed area, and put a tube directly into my esophagus. He connected a large plastic devise to it, and pumped air straight into my lungs.
One was checking my pulse, and I wanted to say that there wasn't a need for that, but my body went limp suddenly, and the panda man looked up at the other medic and said my heart had stopped.
Oh shit, banana peels!
The experience was unreal, because I was there, but not there, staring at my body staring at the ceiling.
It was me and not me, as in a way of it being me as in me I am now. (Think about it reader, it makes sense.)
I heard a the other medic say clear, and everyone touching the gurney let it go, and then the other medic had brought two paddles to my chest and then I was me again.
I coughed, and hacked, and blood got in my mouth. But then my heart stopped again, and they had to do it all over again.
30 minutes later, I was at a medical hospital, cuffed securely to the bedpost, freezing in the nonexistant heat of the place in a thin white sheat of a cover. My chest was beyond sore from the resuscitation, and a plasma drip was cooling my veins to a point of intollerence.
I had a headache, and nobody would give me any pain relievers.
And then I remembered kiling the poor woman.
Oh shit, banana peels!
Banana Peels was (surprise, surprise) from one of my buddies saying, 'Oh shit, banana peels!' At the time, we had been arguing that he had done some trick or other on a skateboard that he didn't remember, so we showed him the video. And so now, every once in a while, I can't help but think it, say it, type it, etc., then giggle like an idiot. :P
I hope you enjoyed the second installment of my random story lines.
Go check out my other works if these stories of different interests entertain you!