Post by Bata-Boom on Jul 1, 2010 17:43:05 GMT -5
It was a good night. Good night.
Not a lot was happening. People laughing as they leave the bars. The hours were coming for the close. Yet as they do someone was stalking them same bars. Rolling slowly with his van. When he saw what he wanted, the van pulled to the side.
Moment later the fat, strange fellow walked out and toward the figure of choice. Flipping something in his hand he called someone.
"Found him." Then, he closed the phone. The one he was after walked slowly along half in a stupor.
When he belched and turned down an alley. The fat man smirked under the long collar of his coat as his hat sat well over his head. Making it hard to see him. He then followed inside and he asked, "Are you the Anchorman for the Bugle? Lord, I'm a huge fan!"
"Eh..." the anchor snorts, "Ahh.... wah.... nyiah..." He was drunk, greatly so. Yet what did one expect? His girlfriend was gunned down the other day. His wife, luckily, was still at home but who gives a fuck about her? A hiccup, he asks, "Wha-ya want?"
"An autograph!"
"Whh...." He smiled, rosily. Cheeks full of pride and blood. "Ya too kind.... ya too kind..." the fat man handed over a pen and paper. "Okay I'll-a sign it for... ah.... who are ya again? Buddy?"
The fat man however was walking back out of the alley way. "Hey... bu-buddy!" He clicked the pen, once and it didn't pop. "Ahh.... I think ya, ya pen's broken..." second time, third time...
Forth time he smiled as it popped out. "Heh, got it! So, who... I..." he heard suddenly a strange buzzing sound.
"Make it out to Bata..."
BOOM!!!
The explosion funneled out of the alley. Where the fat man moments had walked. Turning back his green lenses shine oddly as he watched the fires and the plumes. The slight majesty of the explosive. A slight chuckle and he started back to his truck as passers often ducked or hid. He was perhaps the only one not trying to hide.
Then again, perhaps not...?
Not a lot was happening. People laughing as they leave the bars. The hours were coming for the close. Yet as they do someone was stalking them same bars. Rolling slowly with his van. When he saw what he wanted, the van pulled to the side.
Moment later the fat, strange fellow walked out and toward the figure of choice. Flipping something in his hand he called someone.
"Found him." Then, he closed the phone. The one he was after walked slowly along half in a stupor.
When he belched and turned down an alley. The fat man smirked under the long collar of his coat as his hat sat well over his head. Making it hard to see him. He then followed inside and he asked, "Are you the Anchorman for the Bugle? Lord, I'm a huge fan!"
"Eh..." the anchor snorts, "Ahh.... wah.... nyiah..." He was drunk, greatly so. Yet what did one expect? His girlfriend was gunned down the other day. His wife, luckily, was still at home but who gives a fuck about her? A hiccup, he asks, "Wha-ya want?"
"An autograph!"
"Whh...." He smiled, rosily. Cheeks full of pride and blood. "Ya too kind.... ya too kind..." the fat man handed over a pen and paper. "Okay I'll-a sign it for... ah.... who are ya again? Buddy?"
The fat man however was walking back out of the alley way. "Hey... bu-buddy!" He clicked the pen, once and it didn't pop. "Ahh.... I think ya, ya pen's broken..." second time, third time...
Forth time he smiled as it popped out. "Heh, got it! So, who... I..." he heard suddenly a strange buzzing sound.
"Make it out to Bata..."
BOOM!!!
The explosion funneled out of the alley. Where the fat man moments had walked. Turning back his green lenses shine oddly as he watched the fires and the plumes. The slight majesty of the explosive. A slight chuckle and he started back to his truck as passers often ducked or hid. He was perhaps the only one not trying to hide.
Then again, perhaps not...?