Friday, October 30, 2009
going back in time, #5 - ping pong 1
9/9/2008, Sean
You had to give them this much, at least they were trying to kill him
in an inovative way. Inginuity counted for something these days, as
all rare things do...
9/29/2008, Dara
You had to give them this much, at least they were trying to kill him in an inovative way. Ingenuity counted for something these days, as all rare things do...
And speaking of rare... He held the diamond, still in its jeweler's case, up to the light. He wasn't even particularly fond of diamonds, but that didn't prevent him from easily recognizing an expensive one when he saw it. And this one, along with the gun that wasn't his (even if he had been the type to mistake his own gun, which he felt was somehow like mistaking your own child, his gun was nestled in its holster, invisible beneath his suit jacket) added up by the most basic math to a somewhat creative attempt to get him killed.
In the nightstand drawer, next to the Gideon's bible, the incriminating items might have gone undiscovered by him - undiscovered, in fact, until the police arrived with their anonymous tip and their thinly courteous request to have a look around. Except that sharing space in this particular drawer with the diamond, the gun and the bible happened to be the bottle of scotch he had been planning on using for medicinal purposes (in the time-honored application of steadying one's nerves) this evening.
They were giving him a chance. They were playing a little game. They could have left the gun and the diamond in the other nightstand, the one not containing any type of salvation. With a brief sigh, he tucked the scotch, the gun and the diamond into his jacket, leaving the bible for the next guest, and walked to the balcony just as the first knock sounded at the door. Polite, apologetic - the front desk clerk with the glasses. As he stepped out onto the balcony he heard the second knock. Firm, authoritative - the police. By the time the door was thrown open, he was gone.
11/25/2008, Sean
You had to give them this much, at least they were trying to kill him
in an innovative way. Ingenuity counted for something these days, as
all rare things do...
And speaking of rare... He held the diamond, still in its jeweler's
case, up to the light. He wasn't even particularly fond of diamonds,
but that didn't prevent him from easily recognizing an expensive one
when he saw it. And this one, along with the gun that wasn't his
(even if he had been the type to mistake his own gun, which he felt
was somehow like mistaking your own child, his gun was nestled in its
holster, invisible beneath his suit jacket) added up by the most basic
math to a somewhat creative attempt to get him killed.
In the nightstand drawer, next to the Gideon's bible, the
incriminating items might have gone undiscovered by him -
undiscovered, in fact, until the police arrived with their anonymous
tip and their thinly courteous request to have a look around. Except
that sharing space in this particular drawer with the diamond, the gun
and the bible happened to be the bottle of scotch he had been planning
on using for medicinal purposes (in the time-honored application of
steadying one's nerves) this evening.
They were giving him a chance. They were playing a little game. They
could have left the gun and the diamond in the other nightstand, the
one not containing any type of salvation. With a brief sigh, he
tucked the scotch, the gun and the diamond into his jacket, leaving
the bible for the next guest, and walked to the balcony just as the
first knock sounded at the door. Polite, apologetic - the front desk
clerk with the glasses. As he stepped out onto the balcony he heard
the second knock. Firm, authoritative - the police. By the time the
door was thrown open, he was gone.
Where would be the fun, he thought, crab walking on the sixth story
ledge, if that was it. No little bright red dot precursing a full
metal jacket outreach, at least not yet he could see (oh, little cars,
little, little cars). He stopped on the ledge for a moment. Let's
see, couldn't hear the choppers, but then again the traffic below made
a bit of noise (step man step). No one had shouted for him to stop
yet, but it wouldn't be long until the cops were through the door
(almost to the corner).
So where was it?
Behind him the first kick hit the door, muffled by the distance. If
he didn't hurry, the might get him before the cops did, but at least
there was no snow this time round. The corner, he stopped and looked
over. At the corner the ledge disappeared into a column running down
the length of the building. As he followed it down the length, he saw
the crowd gathering at its base, and at their center, a large net held
by a half dozen individuals.
One of them, noticing him looking up, waved, and, he was certain, flash a smile.
in an inovative way. Inginuity counted for something these days, as
all rare things do...
9/29/2008, Dara
You had to give them this much, at least they were trying to kill him in an inovative way. Ingenuity counted for something these days, as all rare things do...
And speaking of rare... He held the diamond, still in its jeweler's case, up to the light. He wasn't even particularly fond of diamonds, but that didn't prevent him from easily recognizing an expensive one when he saw it. And this one, along with the gun that wasn't his (even if he had been the type to mistake his own gun, which he felt was somehow like mistaking your own child, his gun was nestled in its holster, invisible beneath his suit jacket) added up by the most basic math to a somewhat creative attempt to get him killed.
In the nightstand drawer, next to the Gideon's bible, the incriminating items might have gone undiscovered by him - undiscovered, in fact, until the police arrived with their anonymous tip and their thinly courteous request to have a look around. Except that sharing space in this particular drawer with the diamond, the gun and the bible happened to be the bottle of scotch he had been planning on using for medicinal purposes (in the time-honored application of steadying one's nerves) this evening.
They were giving him a chance. They were playing a little game. They could have left the gun and the diamond in the other nightstand, the one not containing any type of salvation. With a brief sigh, he tucked the scotch, the gun and the diamond into his jacket, leaving the bible for the next guest, and walked to the balcony just as the first knock sounded at the door. Polite, apologetic - the front desk clerk with the glasses. As he stepped out onto the balcony he heard the second knock. Firm, authoritative - the police. By the time the door was thrown open, he was gone.
11/25/2008, Sean
You had to give them this much, at least they were trying to kill him
in an innovative way. Ingenuity counted for something these days, as
all rare things do...
And speaking of rare... He held the diamond, still in its jeweler's
case, up to the light. He wasn't even particularly fond of diamonds,
but that didn't prevent him from easily recognizing an expensive one
when he saw it. And this one, along with the gun that wasn't his
(even if he had been the type to mistake his own gun, which he felt
was somehow like mistaking your own child, his gun was nestled in its
holster, invisible beneath his suit jacket) added up by the most basic
math to a somewhat creative attempt to get him killed.
In the nightstand drawer, next to the Gideon's bible, the
incriminating items might have gone undiscovered by him -
undiscovered, in fact, until the police arrived with their anonymous
tip and their thinly courteous request to have a look around. Except
that sharing space in this particular drawer with the diamond, the gun
and the bible happened to be the bottle of scotch he had been planning
on using for medicinal purposes (in the time-honored application of
steadying one's nerves) this evening.
They were giving him a chance. They were playing a little game. They
could have left the gun and the diamond in the other nightstand, the
one not containing any type of salvation. With a brief sigh, he
tucked the scotch, the gun and the diamond into his jacket, leaving
the bible for the next guest, and walked to the balcony just as the
first knock sounded at the door. Polite, apologetic - the front desk
clerk with the glasses. As he stepped out onto the balcony he heard
the second knock. Firm, authoritative - the police. By the time the
door was thrown open, he was gone.
Where would be the fun, he thought, crab walking on the sixth story
ledge, if that was it. No little bright red dot precursing a full
metal jacket outreach, at least not yet he could see (oh, little cars,
little, little cars). He stopped on the ledge for a moment. Let's
see, couldn't hear the choppers, but then again the traffic below made
a bit of noise (step man step). No one had shouted for him to stop
yet, but it wouldn't be long until the cops were through the door
(almost to the corner).
So where was it?
Behind him the first kick hit the door, muffled by the distance. If
he didn't hurry, the might get him before the cops did, but at least
there was no snow this time round. The corner, he stopped and looked
over. At the corner the ledge disappeared into a column running down
the length of the building. As he followed it down the length, he saw
the crowd gathering at its base, and at their center, a large net held
by a half dozen individuals.
One of them, noticing him looking up, waved, and, he was certain, flash a smile.
# posted by Dara : 10:36 AM
