The Reel Deal and Other Bad Jokes
Thursday, June 10, 2004
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
Ok, don't everybody jump on this at once. I try to make my quotes guessable, but sometimes I go too far I think. Last quote was from "Equilibrium."
Since I don't have a lot of interesting stuff to post from my personal life at the moment, I'm going to write a short story. Every post will have an installment, excepting exceptions. I don't have a title yet. That's something I want help from you guys on. Give me your ideas and your opinions on the titles I come up with. So far I'm thinking "No Business Like Show Business."

Enjoy Installment 1.

I was having my head pounded against the wall when the broad walked in.

She was tall for a woman, wide across the shoulders but small in the waist. She had an hourglass figure, but her assets couldn't hide the muscle contained in her powerful frame. Her eyes were a bit slanted, but big and brown at the same time. Not from around here, evidently. She wore loose silk robes in tan and brown that complented her long black hair. The phrase "black as a raven's wing" was invented for hair like that. I didn't see a weapon.

My view was obscured as the orc with his hand buried in my braids snapped my head backward for another tap on the wall. There were a few dents in in already from previous knocks. He should have used the floor instead. It was harder.

I went with the motion, leaning back and grabbing his ears. I swung a foot over my other leg, pivoting the foot still on the floor, and wrenched his head around. I must have pulled a bit too hard, because one of his ears came off. Oops.

The orc bellowed in rage and pain. I bravely kicked him in the nadgers. He fell to the floor, clutching himself. I kicked him in the face for good luck.

The broad stared, obviously somewhat horrified. I stumbled to the bar and took the cold ale that the barman, Mallet, offered me. I took a long draught. She approached the bar hesitantly, still staring at me but trying not to. I drained the pint and slammed the mug on the bar, giving her a challenging stare.

She turned to Mallet. His appearance, that of a bulldog that ran into walls a few too many times, did not help to put her at his ease. "Ah...excuse me, I'm looking for the gentleman they call 'The Maceman?' I was told to look here."

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