Post by ch00beh on Nov 3, 2010 17:41:51 GMT -5
Here is Christmas Songs, now without pokeymans.
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 with a spring in his step around a large, decorated tree. It was the only bright object in the 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, Darling.”
“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 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.”
“Speaking of eggnog, I used to live in Miami,” the woman said as she put on her own ski mask.
“Really? How was that?” The man paused. “And what does that have to do with eggnog?”
“Well, over there, eggnog is the only way to tell when the holiday season starts. It stays 80 degrees all year round.”
“I see.”
“Not nearly as satisfying as this white Christmas.”
The man grunted an absent minded agreement as he looked up and down the tree. “Shall we get started, Love?”
“Let's,” she replied cheerfully.
The man picked up a second duffel bag and slung it diagonally over his shoulder. He paused for a breath, then ran at the tree. Before he collided with the tree trunk, he leaped up, sprang off the bark in a more upward direction, then took hold of the nearest branch. Without skipping a beat, he pulled himself up and stood triumphantly on his new perch.
“Oh, you make me swoon with your acrobatics, Darling.”
“Only for you, Love.” He leaned on the tree trunk and gave the woman a big grin. He looked up again, then took hold of the nearest branch and continued climbing.
The woman had already walked a few paces away from the tree. In her hand was a gardening spade, and in the other there was a metal device with wires sticking out. She squatted down and dug into the soft, fresh snow. After a shallow hole was created, she carefully placed the device inside and covered it up with snow. A single red and black wire stuck out of the ground, which the woman twisted another length of wire to. Her fingers worked quickly and with practiced ease, and seconds later, the woman had pulled out another bomb to repeat the process several paces later.
The man had continued climbing, and when he had reached what he deemed a reasonable height, he pulled his bag in front of him and started rummaging inside it. After a few moments, he procured several cherry bombs, duct tape, and a roll of wire. He edged forward on the branch he was on until he didn't feel like it could support his weight then duct taped the bombs to the tree. Like the woman below, he connected the bombs to a wire then moved on to a different branch.
For several minutes, they worked without speaking. The sounds of crunching snow and stretching duct tape seemed to amplify in the silence.
“I think this might be our greatest piece, yet, Darling,” the woman said, wiring up the last mine.
“I can barely hear you. Speak up, Love,” the man said with his booming voice. He began making his way down, having reached a considerable height.
“I think we've really outdone ourselves!”
“Really? I rather liked how New York 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, New York 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. “I always did like the word 'grandiose.' It rolls off the tongue well, and it sounds extravagant.”
The man didn't respond as he was trying to figure out how to reach the next lowest branch without falling.
The woman gave the pick one last hit with her hammer and wrenched out more of the bark. She held her hand over the niche to measure its width then dropped her tools. Before she could pull out her next item from the bag, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. A voice followed soon after. “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 a dark muscular dog, the breed of which she couldn't remember. It snarled.
“And what's with the ski mask?” the officer demanded.
“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,” the woman said as she pulled a pipe out of her bag, “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 dog 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 dog tried to limp away. The man, hiding behind the tree trunk, shot it before it could get very far.
“Could you at least put a silencer on that thing?” the woman said impatiently. 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.
“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 behind some nearby shrubbery. He walked up to the dog and bent over to pick it up, but before he did so, he pulled out his gun and shot it one more time. The woman didn't look up as she rubbed her coat with a towel and a Tide pen.
After dropping the dog off next to its master, the man began kicking the loose snow over the bloody drag marks.
“Need any Purell?”
“Sure.”
The woman reached into her pocket and tossed the man a small bottle, the contents of which he rubbed into his hands.
“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. 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 reached into his pocket and pressed something. Suddenly, there was a flash of light at the base of the tree. Several of the carolers fell to the ground. 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 ascended 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 explosions reached the top. Fireworks that the man had placed near the top flew off in random directions. The couple hoped that some would land in the nearby houses.
“Merry Christmas, Darling.” 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 with a spring in his step around a large, decorated tree. It was the only bright object in the 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, Darling.”
“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 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.”
“Speaking of eggnog, I used to live in Miami,” the woman said as she put on her own ski mask.
“Really? How was that?” The man paused. “And what does that have to do with eggnog?”
“Well, over there, eggnog is the only way to tell when the holiday season starts. It stays 80 degrees all year round.”
“I see.”
“Not nearly as satisfying as this white Christmas.”
The man grunted an absent minded agreement as he looked up and down the tree. “Shall we get started, Love?”
“Let's,” she replied cheerfully.
The man picked up a second duffel bag and slung it diagonally over his shoulder. He paused for a breath, then ran at the tree. Before he collided with the tree trunk, he leaped up, sprang off the bark in a more upward direction, then took hold of the nearest branch. Without skipping a beat, he pulled himself up and stood triumphantly on his new perch.
“Oh, you make me swoon with your acrobatics, Darling.”
“Only for you, Love.” He leaned on the tree trunk and gave the woman a big grin. He looked up again, then took hold of the nearest branch and continued climbing.
The woman had already walked a few paces away from the tree. In her hand was a gardening spade, and in the other there was a metal device with wires sticking out. She squatted down and dug into the soft, fresh snow. After a shallow hole was created, she carefully placed the device inside and covered it up with snow. A single red and black wire stuck out of the ground, which the woman twisted another length of wire to. Her fingers worked quickly and with practiced ease, and seconds later, the woman had pulled out another bomb to repeat the process several paces later.
The man had continued climbing, and when he had reached what he deemed a reasonable height, he pulled his bag in front of him and started rummaging inside it. After a few moments, he procured several cherry bombs, duct tape, and a roll of wire. He edged forward on the branch he was on until he didn't feel like it could support his weight then duct taped the bombs to the tree. Like the woman below, he connected the bombs to a wire then moved on to a different branch.
For several minutes, they worked without speaking. The sounds of crunching snow and stretching duct tape seemed to amplify in the silence.
“I think this might be our greatest piece, yet, Darling,” the woman said, wiring up the last mine.
“I can barely hear you. Speak up, Love,” the man said with his booming voice. He began making his way down, having reached a considerable height.
“I think we've really outdone ourselves!”
“Really? I rather liked how New York 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, New York 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. “I always did like the word 'grandiose.' It rolls off the tongue well, and it sounds extravagant.”
The man didn't respond as he was trying to figure out how to reach the next lowest branch without falling.
The woman gave the pick one last hit with her hammer and wrenched out more of the bark. She held her hand over the niche to measure its width then dropped her tools. Before she could pull out her next item from the bag, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. A voice followed soon after. “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 a dark muscular dog, the breed of which she couldn't remember. It snarled.
“And what's with the ski mask?” the officer demanded.
“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,” the woman said as she pulled a pipe out of her bag, “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 dog 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 dog tried to limp away. The man, hiding behind the tree trunk, shot it before it could get very far.
“Could you at least put a silencer on that thing?” the woman said impatiently. 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.
“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 behind some nearby shrubbery. He walked up to the dog and bent over to pick it up, but before he did so, he pulled out his gun and shot it one more time. The woman didn't look up as she rubbed her coat with a towel and a Tide pen.
After dropping the dog off next to its master, the man began kicking the loose snow over the bloody drag marks.
“Need any Purell?”
“Sure.”
The woman reached into her pocket and tossed the man a small bottle, the contents of which he rubbed into his hands.
“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. 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 reached into his pocket and pressed something. Suddenly, there was a flash of light at the base of the tree. Several of the carolers fell to the ground. 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 ascended 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 explosions reached the top. Fireworks that the man had placed near the top flew off in random directions. The couple hoped that some would land in the nearby houses.
“Merry Christmas, Darling.” The woman turned to the man and leaned closer to his face.
“Merry Christmas, Love,” he replied before kissing her.