pRon!!
Tue Jan 20, 2004 3:17 pm
Gotcha....
January 19, 2004
Desolate. The mall was, for the most part, empty. Dim nighttime lighting illuminated spotless tile; a fountain, usually bubbling and jumping, sat forlornly, silent and lonely; the food court was empty, the shops’ security gates closed tightly; the escalators sat, their purpose defeated at the flip of a switch – nothing more than stairs. Hidden throughout the sprawling, empty homage to pop culture and matrialism were six people, all with the same goal – to survive. There is no back-story, no real reasoning as to why they were fighting to the death in the middle of suburbia, but they were, and this is that story. Wanker, Razzle, Spudd, Shine, and Mr. Bonkers were the players, and only one would – could – survive.
Wanker was, well, a wanker. He didn’t have a job and was nothing more than a mall-rat. He knew every store in and out, and he could get from one end of the massive collection of stores to the other in record time. He was a dork in the utmost sense, and his friends constantly ripped on him, calling him names and destroying the small shred of confidence he possessed on a daily basis. He took pride in the fact that he could steal a pretzel from the pretzel man every day, and he loved playing random pranks on the shoppers, like when he set fire to a rich woman’s poodle.
Razzle was…different. I don’t know much about him; I just know he has a shoe stuffed so far down his throat he’s kicking his own ass. An adequate description of him would be a femmy version of Elton John with the eating habits of Elvis.
I liked Spudd. I don’t know why, and there isn’t much to say about him. I think he used to be a postal worker, and that probably explains the violence and anger in his personality, and probably his tic as well. He was huge, and I know if he was ever my mailman, I’d probably crap myself on a daily basis. I’m over six feet tall, and he was taller than me and much stronger. A deep scar ran from his left ear to his mouth, and longish brown hair hung in his eyes. He wore a bicep-baring wife beater, and on his shoulder was a tattoo that would make every mother proud: MOM in a giant heart. This huge beast of a man is now about as big as Mickey Rooney…
Shine used to be addicted to heroin. Now he’s dead – the ultimate high. His dealers, a couple of Italian guys named Mario and Luigi (they were plumbers during the day, dealers and junkies at night) seemed to be alright guys, although they dressed strangely. The junkie will no longer see babies crawling across the ceiling…
I hated Mr. Bonkers. Snotty-ass, British, toupee-wearing bastard. If he wasn’t already dead, and I saw him walking across the street, I would hit him with an eighteen-wheeler, back up over his body, and then drive over him again, and then I would hire the Army marching band and Shriners to have a parade over his corpse, making sure the guys in the funny cars with the funny hat drove over him repeatedly, and then I’d have some bouncy little girl with a lollipop and a pogo-stick bounce on his crotch.
January 19, 2004
Desolate. The mall was, for the most part, empty. Dim nighttime lighting illuminated spotless tile; a fountain, usually bubbling and jumping, sat forlornly, silent and lonely; the food court was empty, the shops’ security gates closed tightly; the escalators sat, their purpose defeated at the flip of a switch – nothing more than stairs. Hidden throughout the sprawling, empty homage to pop culture and matrialism were six people, all with the same goal – to survive. There is no back-story, no real reasoning as to why they were fighting to the death in the middle of suburbia, but they were, and this is that story. Wanker, Razzle, Spudd, Shine, and Mr. Bonkers were the players, and only one would – could – survive.
Wanker was, well, a wanker. He didn’t have a job and was nothing more than a mall-rat. He knew every store in and out, and he could get from one end of the massive collection of stores to the other in record time. He was a dork in the utmost sense, and his friends constantly ripped on him, calling him names and destroying the small shred of confidence he possessed on a daily basis. He took pride in the fact that he could steal a pretzel from the pretzel man every day, and he loved playing random pranks on the shoppers, like when he set fire to a rich woman’s poodle.
Razzle was…different. I don’t know much about him; I just know he has a shoe stuffed so far down his throat he’s kicking his own ass. An adequate description of him would be a femmy version of Elton John with the eating habits of Elvis.
I liked Spudd. I don’t know why, and there isn’t much to say about him. I think he used to be a postal worker, and that probably explains the violence and anger in his personality, and probably his tic as well. He was huge, and I know if he was ever my mailman, I’d probably crap myself on a daily basis. I’m over six feet tall, and he was taller than me and much stronger. A deep scar ran from his left ear to his mouth, and longish brown hair hung in his eyes. He wore a bicep-baring wife beater, and on his shoulder was a tattoo that would make every mother proud: MOM in a giant heart. This huge beast of a man is now about as big as Mickey Rooney…
Shine used to be addicted to heroin. Now he’s dead – the ultimate high. His dealers, a couple of Italian guys named Mario and Luigi (they were plumbers during the day, dealers and junkies at night) seemed to be alright guys, although they dressed strangely. The junkie will no longer see babies crawling across the ceiling…
I hated Mr. Bonkers. Snotty-ass, British, toupee-wearing bastard. If he wasn’t already dead, and I saw him walking across the street, I would hit him with an eighteen-wheeler, back up over his body, and then drive over him again, and then I would hire the Army marching band and Shriners to have a parade over his corpse, making sure the guys in the funny cars with the funny hat drove over him repeatedly, and then I’d have some bouncy little girl with a lollipop and a pogo-stick bounce on his crotch.
Fri Jan 23, 2004 5:28 pm
hmm... I'll forgive the false advertising blunder and get straight to the point...
No but really, was that something you had to do for school?
No but really, was that something you had to do for school?
Fri Jan 23, 2004 8:09 pm
Shane u bastard hahaha 
it was a good read though
it was a good read though
Sat Jan 24, 2004 12:32 pm
I was bored. It kinda was something for school, I'm taking a writing class, and we have to write daily - anything we want, it's kinda fun, but that's me (everyone should try it ) - so I wrote this. There'll be more. *shrug*
It kinda was something for school, I'm taking a writing class, and we have to write daily - anything we want, it's kinda fun, but that's me (everyone should try it ) - so I wrote this. There'll be more. *shrug*