Post by ch00beh on Dec 21, 2009 0:38:15 GMT -5
This was my B-garden story, but I didn't submit it on time. I do actually think it's a pretty good story, or at least a good exercise in making a sympathetic sociopath, so I figured I should post it here.
Christmas Songs
“There's something so satisfying about that crunch sound whenever you step on a patch of fresh snow,” a man said with a strong and confident voice. He was pacing cheerfully around a large, decorated tree. It stood there as a shining beacon in the middle of an otherwise dark park.
“Oh I know what you mean,” a woman replied. She was squatting near the tree trunk, searching for something in a black duffel bag. “I think it's the ears' way of telling you that it's the holiday season. The white snow tells your eyes, the cold weather tells your skin, you know what I mean?”
“I thought hearing Feliz Navidad on the radio was your ears' way of telling you that it's Christmas time.”
“Well that, too. I guess I mean it's our body's way of knowing through nature.” She paused her search momentarily. “I found them.”
“Up you go, then, Love,” the man said as he helped the woman to her feet. “If something in nature tells each of our senses tell us that it's winter, then what are our taste buds treated to?”
“I was going to say 'eggnog' but I guess that's not part of nature,” she laughed as she handed the man a black piece of fabric.
The man chuckled in reply, pulling the ski mask over his head as he did so. “Well I do love warm eggnog.”
“You know, I used to live in Miami,” the woman said as she put on her own ski mask.
“Really? How was that?”
“Winter is really not the same when it stays at a balmy 80 degrees and humid outside. The only reason I knew the holidays were getting close was because Starbucks started selling eggnog lattes. Not nearly as satisfying as this white Christmas.”
“I can imagine,” the man said. He casually tossed a red and white ball onto the ground. An amorphous blob of red light emerged, quickly condensing and materializing into a bipedal, brown fox. As if on cue, the Abra jumped onto the man's back. “Good evening, Abra.”
The man turned to the woman. “Shall we get started, Love?”
“Let's,” she replied cheerfully.
With the Abra still on his back, the man picked up a second duffel bag and suddenly began floating.
“I sometimes wish I had an Abra. It must be so convenient flying around since he can read your thoughts,” the woman said as she tossed out her own Pokeball.
“You could always get one, you know,” the man replied, still ascending.
“But where's the art in that? I can't just go around copying you because I like what I see.” As she spoke, a purple, slightly ethereal Pokemon appeared in a familiar flash of light. “Besides, Haunter is all I need.”
The Haunter's smile seemed to widen, and it laughed as if in response to the complement. It took the woman's hand and bowed as best it could given that it didn't have a waist. The woman curtsied in response.
“Haunter, how many times do I have to tell you to stop hitting on my girl?” the man said with a roaring laugh.
Haunter cackled along as well, and the woman chuckled as she handed the ghost several devices with wires sticking out of them. The pokemon then began to systematically float around, using its ethereal hand to bury the mines without disturbing the ground. The woman followed close behind, connecting the wires together with a thin white cord.
Once the man had reached what he deemed a reasonable height, he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder so that it would hang in front of his stomach for easy access. Despite his best efforts, he accidentally hit Abra's head with the strap. The two shook in the air as Abra momentarily lost its concentration. “Sorry, buddy. I'll buy you ice cream later.”
Abra made a quiet growling sound.
“What?”
“Honey, don't you think it's a little cold for ice cream?” the woman said as she and her pokemon went back to the bag for more bombs.
“What was that?” the man called back. “I can't quite hear you up here. Did you say you wanted ice cream, too?”
“I said, 'Don't you think it's a little cold for ice cream?'” the woman shouted.
“Ah, I suppose. Well, Abra, I'll get us some eggnog to make up for that little offense. How does that sound?”
Abra made a more approving sound.
The man simply grinned over his shoulder at his pokemon. He then pulled out a cherry bomb from the bag and taped it to the first light he could reach, then twisted some wire to it. Slowly he and Abra spiraled up the tree, fastening explosives to the lights and wiring them all together, much like the woman down below.
“I think this might be our greatest piece, yet, Honey,” the woman said, wiring up the last land mine. She and Haunter made their way back to the trunk of the tree.
“Now that I'm higher up, I can hear you even less. Speak up, Love,” the man said with his booming voice.
“I think we've really outdone ourselves!”
“Really? I rather liked how Cherrygrove turned out.”
“Don't get me wrong,” she said. She squatted next to her duffel bag and looked inside again. She pulled out a pick and a hammer. “That was also a remarkable piece of work, but it wasn't themed.”
“Now that you mention it, Cherrygrove did feel fairly random while we were doing it.”
“Still absolutely gorgeous in the end. But matching this with the holidays, and hitting a Christmas tree, just feels so much more... what's the word I'm looking for?” she said as she chiseled away at the tree trunk.
“Exuberant? Delightful? Grandiose?” the man offered. He had reached the top of the tree, and was busily attaching fireworks to the star at the top.
“Let's go with grandiose,” the woman said. She stopped her chiseling and held her hand over it to measure the niche's width. “I always did like the word 'grandiose.' It rolls off the tongue well, and it sounds as extravagantly as it means.”
“Almost like a semantic onomatopoeia,” the man said as he began his descent.
The woman was about to pull something else out of her bag when a voice spoke up from behind her. “Excuse me. What are you doing?”
“Nothing...” the woman said as she slowly turned around. The owner of the voice was a large man dressed in uniform. Next to him was an fiery-orange canine that looked ready to pounce.
“And what's with the ski mask?” the officer demanded. His pokemon growled.
“It's cold out. Can't I keep my nose warm in this weather?”
“Ma'am,” the officer sighed, “I can see that you've vandalized the tree. Normally I would just escort you out of the park and tell you not to do it again, but you made a pretty hefty mark, so I'm going to have to write you up,” the officer said. He pulled out a ticket pad and quickly scrawled something on it before handing it to the woman. “Is that all you were doing? Is there anyone else with you?”
“Well, I was about to put this pipe, which has a stick of dynamite and a whole lot of nails in it, into the crevice I just made. As for someone else being with me...”
There was a small popping noise, and the officer yelled in pain as a bullet struck him in the shoulder. There was another pop, and before the Growlithe could attack, it too was shot. The policeman started to reach for his gun, or for his radio, but before he could do that the woman fell on him with a knife and stabbed him twice in the chest, making sure to puncture her victim's lungs so he couldn't call out.
The Growlithe, used to taking damage, did not roll over helpless, but it still seemed to decide that fighting wasn't the best option with its master dead, and tried to limp away. The man, still floating with his Abra, pointed his pistol at the dog Pokemon and shot it before it could get very far.
“God damn, could you at least put a silencer on that thing?” the woman said. She wiped her knife on the officer's pants before putting it back in her belt.
“Relax. From afar, a gunshot sounds just like a firecracker. People will just think someone's celebrating New Years early.” The man landed, and his Abra jumped off his back.
“Ugh. You're right. But that still doesn't excuse you. Guns are so easy.” The woman looked down at the blood splatters on her winter coat. “You're taking care of the bodies. I need to get the blood out before it stains.”
“Oh fine.” The man picked up the officer's feet and dragged the body next to the Growlithe's. He threw a pokeball down, releasing a half-fox, half-mermaid Pokemon. “Vaporeon, could you clean up the blood? Abra, can you teleport us to the river?”
The psychic pokemon simply nodded and the man and the bodies disappeared. Meanwhile, the woman was rubbing her coat with a towel and a Tide pen. Vaporeon was spraying the bloodied ground with water. The water droplets would freeze later, so the affected spots would barely be noticeable, especially in the low light.
Moments later, the man and his Abra reappeared. “You have any Purell?”
The woman reached into her pocket and tossed the man a small bottle, the contents of which he rubbed into his hands.
“Honey, this was my favorite coat,” the woman said.
“I'm sorry. I'll get you a new one for Christmas, okay?” the man said while sifting through the officer's wallet.
“I guess.”
“Don't be so down, Love! Look, there are carolers coming. That will cheer you up.”
“I suppose,” the woman said with a smile. She quickly threw leftover material and tools into her bag and recalled her Haunter. The man did the same with his Pokemon. Before they ran off, the woman duct taped her pipe bomb into the tree.
The couple stopped running when they had reached a bridge that still had the tree in sight. They leaned on the stone sidewalls, watching as the carolers walked by the tree.
“I love you,” the woman said. She leaned her head on the man's shoulder.
“I love you, too,” the man replied. He took her gloved hand in his, intertwining their fingers.
With his free hand, the man pressed a button on the remote he was carrying. Suddenly, there was a flash of light at the base of the tree. Several of the carolers fell to the ground as they were hit by shrapnel from the bomb. There was a brief moment of silence, then the sound of the explosion and the screams reached the couple. There were more popping sounds as flashes of light spiraled up the now falling tree, igniting the branches as it went. The remaining carolers began running away from where the tree would land, but didn't get very far before the ground exploded underneath them.
Within a few seconds, the spiraling explosions reached the top. The tree had already tipped over a substantial amount, so when the fireworks at the top finally went off, they were sent flying over the park and, the couple hoped, into the nearby houses.
“Merry Christmas, Honey.” The woman turned to the man and leaned closer to his face.
“Merry Christmas, Love,” he replied before kissing her.
Christmas Songs
“There's something so satisfying about that crunch sound whenever you step on a patch of fresh snow,” a man said with a strong and confident voice. He was pacing cheerfully around a large, decorated tree. It stood there as a shining beacon in the middle of an otherwise dark park.
“Oh I know what you mean,” a woman replied. She was squatting near the tree trunk, searching for something in a black duffel bag. “I think it's the ears' way of telling you that it's the holiday season. The white snow tells your eyes, the cold weather tells your skin, you know what I mean?”
“I thought hearing Feliz Navidad on the radio was your ears' way of telling you that it's Christmas time.”
“Well that, too. I guess I mean it's our body's way of knowing through nature.” She paused her search momentarily. “I found them.”
“Up you go, then, Love,” the man said as he helped the woman to her feet. “If something in nature tells each of our senses tell us that it's winter, then what are our taste buds treated to?”
“I was going to say 'eggnog' but I guess that's not part of nature,” she laughed as she handed the man a black piece of fabric.
The man chuckled in reply, pulling the ski mask over his head as he did so. “Well I do love warm eggnog.”
“You know, I used to live in Miami,” the woman said as she put on her own ski mask.
“Really? How was that?”
“Winter is really not the same when it stays at a balmy 80 degrees and humid outside. The only reason I knew the holidays were getting close was because Starbucks started selling eggnog lattes. Not nearly as satisfying as this white Christmas.”
“I can imagine,” the man said. He casually tossed a red and white ball onto the ground. An amorphous blob of red light emerged, quickly condensing and materializing into a bipedal, brown fox. As if on cue, the Abra jumped onto the man's back. “Good evening, Abra.”
The man turned to the woman. “Shall we get started, Love?”
“Let's,” she replied cheerfully.
With the Abra still on his back, the man picked up a second duffel bag and suddenly began floating.
“I sometimes wish I had an Abra. It must be so convenient flying around since he can read your thoughts,” the woman said as she tossed out her own Pokeball.
“You could always get one, you know,” the man replied, still ascending.
“But where's the art in that? I can't just go around copying you because I like what I see.” As she spoke, a purple, slightly ethereal Pokemon appeared in a familiar flash of light. “Besides, Haunter is all I need.”
The Haunter's smile seemed to widen, and it laughed as if in response to the complement. It took the woman's hand and bowed as best it could given that it didn't have a waist. The woman curtsied in response.
“Haunter, how many times do I have to tell you to stop hitting on my girl?” the man said with a roaring laugh.
Haunter cackled along as well, and the woman chuckled as she handed the ghost several devices with wires sticking out of them. The pokemon then began to systematically float around, using its ethereal hand to bury the mines without disturbing the ground. The woman followed close behind, connecting the wires together with a thin white cord.
Once the man had reached what he deemed a reasonable height, he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder so that it would hang in front of his stomach for easy access. Despite his best efforts, he accidentally hit Abra's head with the strap. The two shook in the air as Abra momentarily lost its concentration. “Sorry, buddy. I'll buy you ice cream later.”
Abra made a quiet growling sound.
“What?”
“Honey, don't you think it's a little cold for ice cream?” the woman said as she and her pokemon went back to the bag for more bombs.
“What was that?” the man called back. “I can't quite hear you up here. Did you say you wanted ice cream, too?”
“I said, 'Don't you think it's a little cold for ice cream?'” the woman shouted.
“Ah, I suppose. Well, Abra, I'll get us some eggnog to make up for that little offense. How does that sound?”
Abra made a more approving sound.
The man simply grinned over his shoulder at his pokemon. He then pulled out a cherry bomb from the bag and taped it to the first light he could reach, then twisted some wire to it. Slowly he and Abra spiraled up the tree, fastening explosives to the lights and wiring them all together, much like the woman down below.
“I think this might be our greatest piece, yet, Honey,” the woman said, wiring up the last land mine. She and Haunter made their way back to the trunk of the tree.
“Now that I'm higher up, I can hear you even less. Speak up, Love,” the man said with his booming voice.
“I think we've really outdone ourselves!”
“Really? I rather liked how Cherrygrove turned out.”
“Don't get me wrong,” she said. She squatted next to her duffel bag and looked inside again. She pulled out a pick and a hammer. “That was also a remarkable piece of work, but it wasn't themed.”
“Now that you mention it, Cherrygrove did feel fairly random while we were doing it.”
“Still absolutely gorgeous in the end. But matching this with the holidays, and hitting a Christmas tree, just feels so much more... what's the word I'm looking for?” she said as she chiseled away at the tree trunk.
“Exuberant? Delightful? Grandiose?” the man offered. He had reached the top of the tree, and was busily attaching fireworks to the star at the top.
“Let's go with grandiose,” the woman said. She stopped her chiseling and held her hand over it to measure the niche's width. “I always did like the word 'grandiose.' It rolls off the tongue well, and it sounds as extravagantly as it means.”
“Almost like a semantic onomatopoeia,” the man said as he began his descent.
The woman was about to pull something else out of her bag when a voice spoke up from behind her. “Excuse me. What are you doing?”
“Nothing...” the woman said as she slowly turned around. The owner of the voice was a large man dressed in uniform. Next to him was an fiery-orange canine that looked ready to pounce.
“And what's with the ski mask?” the officer demanded. His pokemon growled.
“It's cold out. Can't I keep my nose warm in this weather?”
“Ma'am,” the officer sighed, “I can see that you've vandalized the tree. Normally I would just escort you out of the park and tell you not to do it again, but you made a pretty hefty mark, so I'm going to have to write you up,” the officer said. He pulled out a ticket pad and quickly scrawled something on it before handing it to the woman. “Is that all you were doing? Is there anyone else with you?”
“Well, I was about to put this pipe, which has a stick of dynamite and a whole lot of nails in it, into the crevice I just made. As for someone else being with me...”
There was a small popping noise, and the officer yelled in pain as a bullet struck him in the shoulder. There was another pop, and before the Growlithe could attack, it too was shot. The policeman started to reach for his gun, or for his radio, but before he could do that the woman fell on him with a knife and stabbed him twice in the chest, making sure to puncture her victim's lungs so he couldn't call out.
The Growlithe, used to taking damage, did not roll over helpless, but it still seemed to decide that fighting wasn't the best option with its master dead, and tried to limp away. The man, still floating with his Abra, pointed his pistol at the dog Pokemon and shot it before it could get very far.
“God damn, could you at least put a silencer on that thing?” the woman said. She wiped her knife on the officer's pants before putting it back in her belt.
“Relax. From afar, a gunshot sounds just like a firecracker. People will just think someone's celebrating New Years early.” The man landed, and his Abra jumped off his back.
“Ugh. You're right. But that still doesn't excuse you. Guns are so easy.” The woman looked down at the blood splatters on her winter coat. “You're taking care of the bodies. I need to get the blood out before it stains.”
“Oh fine.” The man picked up the officer's feet and dragged the body next to the Growlithe's. He threw a pokeball down, releasing a half-fox, half-mermaid Pokemon. “Vaporeon, could you clean up the blood? Abra, can you teleport us to the river?”
The psychic pokemon simply nodded and the man and the bodies disappeared. Meanwhile, the woman was rubbing her coat with a towel and a Tide pen. Vaporeon was spraying the bloodied ground with water. The water droplets would freeze later, so the affected spots would barely be noticeable, especially in the low light.
Moments later, the man and his Abra reappeared. “You have any Purell?”
The woman reached into her pocket and tossed the man a small bottle, the contents of which he rubbed into his hands.
“Honey, this was my favorite coat,” the woman said.
“I'm sorry. I'll get you a new one for Christmas, okay?” the man said while sifting through the officer's wallet.
“I guess.”
“Don't be so down, Love! Look, there are carolers coming. That will cheer you up.”
“I suppose,” the woman said with a smile. She quickly threw leftover material and tools into her bag and recalled her Haunter. The man did the same with his Pokemon. Before they ran off, the woman duct taped her pipe bomb into the tree.
The couple stopped running when they had reached a bridge that still had the tree in sight. They leaned on the stone sidewalls, watching as the carolers walked by the tree.
“I love you,” the woman said. She leaned her head on the man's shoulder.
“I love you, too,” the man replied. He took her gloved hand in his, intertwining their fingers.
With his free hand, the man pressed a button on the remote he was carrying. Suddenly, there was a flash of light at the base of the tree. Several of the carolers fell to the ground as they were hit by shrapnel from the bomb. There was a brief moment of silence, then the sound of the explosion and the screams reached the couple. There were more popping sounds as flashes of light spiraled up the now falling tree, igniting the branches as it went. The remaining carolers began running away from where the tree would land, but didn't get very far before the ground exploded underneath them.
Within a few seconds, the spiraling explosions reached the top. The tree had already tipped over a substantial amount, so when the fireworks at the top finally went off, they were sent flying over the park and, the couple hoped, into the nearby houses.
“Merry Christmas, Honey.” The woman turned to the man and leaned closer to his face.
“Merry Christmas, Love,” he replied before kissing her.