Storytelling Game 4:

[Justin]

JK1

Further Tales from the Dirtwater Fox: Busting Somebody, At Least

Kahnrad and I stuck to the shadows. That's where you find the crime. The blacker the shadows, the blacker the crime. Or something. Besides, Kahnrad was still recovering from his hangover, and the sunlight hurt his eyes like five pounds of prime Bratwurst sausage right in the knotty bits. I know what you're thinking. If a blow is to one location, how can another locale hurt from it? Well, it all comes from the clenching of your eyelids. Basically. Kahnrad was feeling reeeeally delicate. Did you get that yet?

"You've got to take these things in stride, Kahnrad," I told him philosophically, twirling my nightstick by its strap. He moaned in agreement. He didn't feel up to speech. I cocked my head. "Did you just hear someone cry out?" The scream came again. I broke into a run. Kahnrad moaned again behind me.

I rounded the corner just in time to stick out a foot and trip Dumbass Daniel head-over-keister. Not everybody gets a cool, intimidating nickname like "the Mace." I placed my foot between his shoulder blades and leaned down, curtailing his flight from justice. Besides, he owed me money from cards the other night.

"Hey Dan. What's up? Snatching purses now? What's wrong, your plan to rip off the mob's payroll last Monday fall through?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Dumbass snarled, embittered by defeat. "And it was the police payroll I was going to heist, not the mob's. I mean, uh..." Too bad for him I'd sprained his body the night before that in a bar fight. It was kind of a non-specific injury.

"Smooth, Dan. Real smooth. Whaddaya plan to knock over next, the Crypt of Kallderos? The Empire's treasure vault?"

"I can always dream," Dan muttered.

"My heart bleeds," I said by way of consolation. I plucked the woman's purse from his unresisting hand and hoisted him to his feet, sending him on his way with a hearty shove.

"Why did you let him go?" the owner of the purse demanded. I regarded her with great care. I'm always careful when inspecting works of art.

Languid eyes stared back at me under silken eyelashes. Her luscious breasts, like twin moons, heaved under an elaborate, lacy blouse. She had legs all the way up to the heavens. Her derriere whispered a siren's call, no, a symphony of them, calling me to sample a veritable garden of carnal delights. And even though I'd vowed before not to fraternize with civilians, I felt my resolve begin to weaken...

Well, all right, that last part was a lie. I "fraternize" every damn chance I get. But no poetic description of a hot babe is complete without weakening resolve, it's an essential weapon in every lust-crazed poet's repretoire. Still, you've got to admire how I can manipulate the language like that.

"So are you going to stare at my tits all day, or can I have my purse back?" she said impatiently. I shook myself out of my daydream.

"Of course, I'm sorry," I said, my fantasy abruptly shattered. Well, slightly cracked maybe. I handed her purse to her.

Kahnrad trudged up. "Whashyeroccupashun?" He inquired crisply.

"He wants to know what you do for a living," I translated.

"I'm a sex worker. Why did you let that guy go?"

"He was clearly delirious. We don't arrest insane people. Why rob the police payroll when you'd get much better dough ripping off some nice street vender somewhere? And by the way, do you have your prostitution license with you?"

"You're going to save my purse just so you can bust me for unlicensed streetwalking?" She asked derisively. I let the tone pass. When you've got breasts like that, you can shoot off your mouth a little bit. Speaking of, I'd like to shoot something into...never mind.

"Yes. I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the station. Or, we could discuss it over dinner...Friday night good for you?"

She looked at me speculatively. "Two hundred gold."

"Not without a license."

"You're pretty repulsive, you know that?"

"Yes."

"All right, Friday night, six at the Dirtwater Fox. In the back."

"Fine. I'm going to take Kahnrad there right now. He needs to befriend the hair of the dog that bit him all over again."

[Heather]

HB1

"I hate the Rolling Stones," SCREAMed the voice on the other end of the phone. "All their songs suck! 'Honky Tonk WOMAN', 'Paint It BLACK', SYMPHONY For The Devil'..."

"Sympathy," the DJ corrected calmly.

"What?"

"Sympathy. It's 'Sympathy For The Devil.'"

"Whatever! I'm just sick of hearing them!"

"Well, you can't ALWAYS get what you want," he replied, switching over to line 2. "KMSK."

"Hi, can I request a song?"

"Knock yourself out."

I wanna hear 'DELIRIOUS' by Prince."

"I'll see what I can do. Thanks for calling." He hung up the phone and SMOOTHly segued from "BEHIND Closed Doors" to "Only WOMEN BLEED." Then he leaned back in his chair and wondered for the millionth time if it had been wise starting a no-format radio station. You couldn't make anyone happy. Maybe he was the only person who liked every kind of music, pop to hip hop, country to heavy metal. SHOOT, he might be the only one who enjoyed polka.

In a typical hour, his varitey was staggering. His ELABORATE library allowed him to go from Savage GARDEN to Metallica to Rascal Flatts to Murphy Lee. In fact, in a 24 hour period, you never heard the same song twice.

One of the benefits of owning KMSK, though, was the fact that he knew music that wasn't normally made available to the unwashed masses was finally getting heard. Songs like "The SHADOW Knows" by The Coasters, "(If I Could Only) WHISPER Your Name" by Harry Connick Jr and Godley & Creme's "CRY."

It was a DELICATE & ESSENTIAL business, being a disc jockey. You had listeners who were quick to BEFRIEND you (like Justin who called to tell him he had SAUSAGE & sauerkraut for breakfast on MONDAY) and then you got the listeners who tried to MANIPULATE contest results (LUSCIOUS Maggie, a stripper at TNT's, had called an hour before and offered knee-WEAKENing sex that he had only imagined in his DREAMs if he would rig the backstage passes to Poison contest.)

Somedays he felt himself growing PRETTY EMBITTERed towards the whole thing and wanted to HEAVE his headphones through the window. He hated the days he TRUDGEd to work, muttering under his breath about the REPULSIVE new Britney Spears song he had to play that day.

Most of the time, though, he loved his job. Tonight he loved it. He started up "Blue MOON" and sighed as he sang along with his favorite song and planned a triple play of The Stones. Yeah, tonight he loved his job!

[Heather]

HB2

Lady Susannah MONDAY was exhausted. She had traveled for over a week over
rough terrain, bathed in streams, eaten stale bread and slimy SAUSAGES and for
what? To marry some REPULSIVE Scottish laird that she'd never even laid eyes
on?

She'd been ripped from her home in England where she'd lived all her eighteen
years by a missive from the king. She remembered clearly the morning her
father came in and told her she was being shipped off to Scotland to unite the
houses of MONDAY and McNaughton. She SCREAMED, she CRIED, she pleaded but to
no avail. There was nothing she could do to stop it. She actually
contimplated killing herself but the thought of BLEEDING to death scared her
more than the prospect of marrying Laird McNaughton. The day before she left,
she tried her best to MANIPULATE her father into sending one of the chamber
maids in her stead. The dumb Scot would never realize a switch had been made!

Obviously, nothing worked because here she was in Scotland, sitting ramrod
straight on her BLACK horse in front of the hugest castle she had ever seen.
It was made of gray stones and stood taller than the Tower Of London, she was
sure. Beautiful GARDENS surrounded the entranceway and the front door was oak,
designed with a more ELABORATE and DELICATE pattern of leaves and flowers than
she ever imagined the barbaric Scots could come up with.

Within minutes of their arrival, the giant door swung open and four big men
TRUDGED toward them on colossal strawberry roans. In a moment of panic, Susannah
ducked her horse BEHIND her leigeman, Donald. These men were just so huge and
one of them was actually going to be her husband? Dear God, have mercy upon
her! AFTER the group of giants stopped in front of Donald and glared down at
him, the poor man remembered that he had a job to do. "Presenting Lasy
Susannah MONDAY to Laird McNaughton." He was so DELIRIOUS with fear that his
voice came out in a WHISPER. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and tried
again. "Presenting Lady..."

"Yes, yes, we got it the first time," one of the warriors laughed, clapping
Donald on the back so hard he came close to tumbling off of his horse. Was he
the one she was being forced to wed, Susannah wondered as the enormous
redheaded man weaved his horse SMOOTHly around Donald's and pulled right up
next to her. "Lady Susannah, I am Laird Duncan McNaughton. We've been
expecting you. I hope your trip was pleasant."

"My trip was fine, thank you Laird," she replied, knowing she should look down
at the ground as a show of respect but she couldn't take her eyes off of the
man. His red hair was long, brushing muscular shoulders and his beard framed a
strong face. His eyes were the most LANGUID blue she had ever seen and his
lips were full and at that moment, turned up in an appealing, crooked smile.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad AFTER all.

"I'm pleased that you turned out to be so PRETTY," he stated, his brogue making
her knees WEAKEN. She was glad she was on her horse, she might have sunk
straight to the ground. "May I say I've never seen more LUSCIOUS looking lips
on a WOMAN in my life. They look good enough to taste." A twinkle appeared in
his eye and he smiled even wider. "In fact..." Duncan leaned over and planted
his lips on hers in a hard, posessive kiss. When he pulled away, Susannah felt
dazed, like she had just woke up from a wonderful, warm DREAM. She heard
herself MOAN in reaction the the feel of his lips on hers before shaking
herself out of her stupor.

"Laird McNaughton, that was most improper," Susannah huffed, trying to look
infuirated with him when all she really wanted to do was HEAVE herself at him
and have him kiss her like that again.

"First of all, call me Duncan. Second of all, we're to be married so I will
kiss you whenever and wherever I like. Do you understand?" She nodded.
"Good. It is ESSENTIAL that we ALWAYS understand each other."

"Well, then Duncan," she SHOT back, "Understand that I don't like being fondled
in front of your men." His smile turned as cold as the MOON and he leaned in
towards her, his SHADOW blocking out the sunlight.

"Susannah, you will not become EMBITTERED over this. You will try and BEFREIND
my men and you will kiss me whenever I say so, understand?" His voice was low
and SMOOTH but it was also hard and she knew she shouldn't argue anymore.

"Yes, Duncan." His crooked smile returned.

"Good. I'll think you'll be happy here, Susannah." As she watched him turn
away and start barking out the orders for her and her things to brought into
the keep, she smiled. She thought she would probably be happy here as well.
As long as those kisses kept coming her way.

[Tricia]

TW1

This happens every time I pull up on Seventeenth Street.
A symphonyof little girl voices always greets me from the dark alley.
It’s the most repulsive sound I’ve ever heard. They do that shit, try to sound all young and sweet, but they’re just a bunch of nasty used-up old bitches.

A shadow moves from behind the dumpster on the corner. The woman takes languid strides towards my car.
I open the passenger side door and she leans in placing one black stockinged leg inside the door. She peers at me through long fake eyelashes.


“You lookin’ for me baby”? She says in a husky whisper.

“You got my money bitch”?
I’m in no mood for her shit tonight. She plays this little delicate girl act every time I come to collect.

“Now you know I got out here late tonight. My baby had a bad dream and I couldn’t just leave her. I ain’t had a chance to work yet”.
Huge stretch marks show on her tits as she leans in further.

Yeah, she still tries to manipulate me, used to work when she was young and pretty.
She used to be a hot, luscious piece of ass, but now she’s just a used up cunt.
I used to get top dollar for her, but after a while she just let herself go to shit.
They all go to shit in the end.

She licks her lips and lets out a moan .
This is her way of trying to get over. She thinks if she gives me head I’ll go away and forget about what she owes me.
“D’you shoot up tonight”?
“No baby, you know I’m stayin’ clean for you”.
I grab her arm and twist it around to check for track marks.
She lets out a cry. “You’re hurting me” she lies.

It’s a waste of time to check her arms anyway. She got wise on the streets and now she shoots up between her toes or the inside of her thigh…anywhere she thinks I won’t be interested in looking anymore.

“Baby, I’m clean”.

Yeah I’ve seen her get fucked by three guys at the same time…clean …right.
They just abuse the fuck out of her like she’s a piece of shit crack whore and she lays there moaning in a drugged out haze.
They shove bottles up her ass and she just smiles, rubbing her hands all over her tits. “Ooh that’s so good…ooh”. What a fucking joke.
When the college guys come looking for a girl for a frat party I send her…a good time is always had by all.

She leans further into the car.
I grab her by the hair and heave her face close to mine. She lets out a small scream.

“Get me my money bitch or I’m gonna make you bleed”.
“OK baby, I’m takin care of business right now”.
“You better be”.

I let go of her hair and she backs out of the car. She reaches down to smooth out her cheap cotton mini skirt.
She gives me one last delirious glance over her shoulder as she trudges off to join the others in the shadows.

[dknight818]

DK1
"It's Monday, there is much to be done," the old man told me. "You can't spend your whole shift on that one." As much as I wanted to scream and lash out at him, I didn't. He couldn't understand my reasons for taking such care. I would never reveal them to anyone, Just as I never revealed my love for her. I merely nodded in reply and he trudged away.

As I set to work, I allowed my memories to flood my mind. I recalled the first time I saw her. She certainly didn't see me, but I was immediately transfixed by her form. I was enchanted by her eyes, her smile, her hair, even by the way she walked. Everything about her seemed so deliberate, yet so delicate. She was a very confident young woman, it seemed. "Much too confident for the likes of you," I told myself. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I knew that, despite my reservations, I would have to speak to her. I couldn't let that moment slip away. I had to befriend this person.

the sound of the old man's voice abruptly pulled me from my daydream. "Good progress," he told me. He then said "I want to go to lunch. Will you mind the front for an hour?" I agreed to this task and he departed. "Minding the front" is less of a job, really, and more of a reward. An hour or so to be completely alone, save a random phone call or two. An hour or so to be alone with my memories of her once again.

My mind drifted back to the few occasions that she and I spent time together. These were some of the happiest times of my life, although I would never express these sentiments to her. We were nothing more than friends, and I knew that, but in my mind I wanted so much more. While she was busy making plans for her future, a future that didn't include me, I was busy imagining a life for the two of us. In my mind, I lived it all, from our first date and our first kiss, to our wedding, our first born child and even dancing close under the moon to our special song at our 25th wedding anniversary, surrounded by our loved ones. In my mind, we had everything. In reality, we had nothing more than a few conversations and a few shared activities. It wasn't long at all before she drifted completely out of my life.

I heard the old man come through the door behind me. "I'm back," he said softly, bringing me out of my memories and back to the present. "I'd like it if you finished what you were doing before 3pm. Can you do that?" He asked me. I told him that I'd do my best and he nodded. I gathered my tools and went back to work, allowing my mind to once again wander into the beauty of my memories and my fantasies regarding her. I remember that there had been times, if I were bolder, she may have been inclined to follow me. I can remember precious few instances where she had shown me tenderness and caring. I had always become painfully shy at those times, not willing to allow myself to accept such sentiment. After all, I was not worthy of such things as love, I had convinced myself. How could anyone see me as anything more than what I am? Though I wanted her to love me more than I wanted to live, I would've never allowed her to. Perhaps I was afraid that our life together could never be as grand as I had envisioned. Perhaps I was afraid that, in time, she would tire of me and move on. Perhaps I never really loved her. Perhaps I didn't know how to love. Perhaps.

At length, I completed my task. I told the old man of my progress and he seemed pleased. "The shadows grow long outside. Would you like to take a break?" he asked me. "No, thank you," I replied. "I think I'd like to keep working." The old man smiled and told me that there were weeds growing over some of the gardens and the older plots and asked if I wouldn't mind taking care of them. I agreed to do this and gathered my tools once more. As I passed where I had been toiling for most of the day, taking painstaking and loving care to do my best work, I allowed myself to reflect on the irony of how she and I had met again, just hours before. I began to cry as I placed my hand upon the smooth wood of the casket that lay next to the freshly dug grave. I whispered "I love you, Elaine. I always have, I always will. I'll miss you."

With that, I set about taking care of our older residents, unable to clear my memories of our newest from my mind.

[Sportsluvnlady]

Crap, are you all storytellers?

[Collin]

Oh yeeeeaaaaaaahhhhh! I have a contest to declare the end of. It's 25 minutes past the noon deadline. Now it's time to vote.

First, if you would stop by the new "Voting Booth" area and let me know if everyone wants to vote. Right now, the informal polling that I've done with a few people leads to the likelyhood of voting for your favorite 3 stories rather than 1 like I stated in the rules.

So if you are all prepared to vote, do so now. Because I'm just flaking out like a lunatic, voting will end Thursday at noon (local time).

And yes, I know about changing horses in midstream (don't), and I'm froggering my ass all over the place this time around. Bah. Round five will be back to normal.

[Sportsluvnlady]

FINALLY, get to vote :0

My choices are

DK1 - if I could cast several votes for this one, I would. Awesome story.

HB1 - Great sense of humor but I think you listen to the radio entirely too much <lol>

TW-1 For those of us shy people that dare to think nasty now and then.

[Justin]

CB1, HB1, TW1.

[Sportsluvnlady]

I know I've already voted but I was just re-reading all the stories written. I just want to say I think everyone did a great job....have some great writers in here. Thanks for sharing.

[jenn]

Oh like we don't know Derek is going to win. Going around making people cry and everything!

[Sportsluvnlady]

Jenn,

I'm just glad to know I wasn't the only one that cried reading that story. How does he do it?

[dknight818]

hard to choose, everyone's a winner, yadda yadda...

CB1, WS1, TW1

[Heather]

I hate voting when everyrhing is so good.

CB1
DK1
JS1

[jenn]

Yeah the voting thing!

Dk1 I'm not going to cry again Damnit I'm not!

CB1 That was just funny funny!

HB2 Cause I was beginning to think Heather hated the whole marriage stuff.