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RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
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posted November 13, 2007 09:04 AM |
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A Short Story
The place wasn’t full, nor was it empty. It was just past noon on a Friday afternoon. Many were still out and about doing errands. Only the barflies were buzzing around at this hour. The bulk of the usual crowd was likely still out doing work. And in a sense Kostas Vane was out doing work too. It was a business lunch you could say. Not even. More accurate would be a business drink; or two; or three; or as many as he could get away with having before his meeting was over. Kostas saw his mug was now over half empty and decided he should finish it off before his client arrived.
“Bugsy?” Kostas raised his hand as he gulped away at the remainder of his ale.
“Another dark?” Kostas shook his head as he raised the mug up over his head.
“I’d like a green ale this time.”
“Are you sure you want a green ale? You remember the last few times you drank green ale right? Cause I’m not cleaning up the mess.” Kostas reached into his pocket and slammed a silver piece onto the table. Bugsy eyed the coin. That was a lot of money for him. Nearly 20 times the price of a single beer. “One green ale coming right up.”
A man dressed in nearly all dark gray sat down several seats next to him and gave Kostas a quick glance and a smile. Kostas nodded and reached into his pocket pulling out a few bronze coins putting those on the table next to the silver piece.
“Make that two green ales.” Kostas said rather curiously as if he was making an announcement. The man in gray gave Kostas an odd look. But he returned the scrutiny with a devilish smile. Bugsy came over with a mug topped with a frothy pale green head.
“Did you say you wanted two green beers?” Bugsy really didn’t want to clean up any messes. He knew green ale never agreed with Kostas. But he couldn’t argue with the exorbitant amounts of money the man was paying him to drink it. Kostas glanced at the table as if to lead Bugsy’s eyes to his generous tip. Bugsy smiled. “I think you did say you wanted a second one. Didn’t you?”
“Thank you Bugsy.” Kostas looked back at the man in gray. He seemed to be in deep thought. Kostas picked up his mug and began downing his beer in one fell swoop. Kostas didn’t even like green beer. He knew it always made him throw up. But what had to be done, had to be done. He should really find a different beer, but all the other ones were taken for other more common jobs. He slammed the mug down on the table and gave a quick look at the man in gray who in return sent a nod of affirmation.
“That was good,” he said giving a glance at Bugsy who had just finished pouring his second drink. “I can’t wait for the second one.”
“I’d like a green ale as well,” said the man in gray giving a glance at Kostas. Kostas smiled, but it faded quickly as he realized he was going to have to drink a second green beer.
After about ten minutes, maybe fifteen, the man in gray finished the last of his beer. He put a few coins on the bar and walked out silently. Kostas stayed a bit longer finishing up the remainder of his second green beer and talking to Bugsy about women.
“You feelin’ alright?” Bugsy asked as Kostas as he finished his last sips. “I’m actually doing just fine,” Kostas smiled trying to look as though he enjoyed the green ales. “Green ales are my favorite. Even if they don’t always agree with me.” Kostas gave Bugsy a nod and made his way back into the streets.
The sunlight was rather shocking to his eyes. It had been rather dark in the bar and the mid afternoon sun was shining directly into his face. It was a nice day so far. Other than a few dark clouds to the north, the skies were crystal clear. Kostas stretched out a bit and yawned lightly. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out an envelope. He looked it over quickly and tucked it away into the right side pocket of his coat. After taking a moment to look around and think about what else needed to be done for the day, he decided to head back to his house.
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Go Red Sox!
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kookastar
Honorable
Legendary Hero
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posted November 13, 2007 09:17 PM |
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Kool, I want to know what is in the envelope!
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uhuh
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RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
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posted November 13, 2007 10:10 PM |
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The second scene will reveal a bunch of things about the first scene. Including the contents of the envelope. I'm bringing this to my writer's group in a few hours. 
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Go Red Sox!
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UndeadRSF
Hired Hero
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posted November 18, 2007 11:08 AM |
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RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
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posted April 09, 2008 10:47 AM |
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I've gone through and edited the first scene quite a bit.
Owen Pompeo saw his mug was near empty and decided he should finish it off before his client arrived. It was a business lunch you could say. Not even. More accurate would be a business drink; or two; or three; or as many as he could get away with having before his meeting was over. He was near the end of his second in close to thirty minutes.
“Damon good Sir?” he called to the bartender. Owen raised his hand as he gulped away at the remainder of his ale.
“Another red?” Owen shook his head and raised the mug up over his head. Nope! Its time for piss water, he thought.
“Actually. It shall be one of your,” Owen hesistated putting his empty cup onto the bar, “splendid green ales this round my good friend.” Splendid. That’s a good way to describe it. Owen wiped off the access liquid from his beard and mustache. A long squiggly black hair fell out of his beard and stuck between his fingers. He shook it off.
“Are you sure you want a green?” Damon stammered. “Last time you accidentally threw up on the person next to you. And you had just finished your first drink.” Damon grabbed a damp cloth and began wiping down the bar even though it was already clean.
“Yeah I remember that unfortunate day,” Owen said holding back laughter. Somehow he kept a straight face. “Many apologies, my friend. But alas, I would still love to consume one of your magnificent green ales.” That means get me a damn skunk beer, Fishlips. He stared down his pug nose at Damon. He knew he could just look at him and remain silent for a bit and he’d get what he wanted. And if he didn’t, then there would be consequences.
“The last ten times you’ve had this beer, you’ve thrown it up. It doesn’t seem to agree with you anymore,” Damon said avoiding eye contact. “I work hard to keep this place clean. I really don’t want to clean up any messes. Look at this place.” He looked up at Owen and displayed the bar with his fat flabby arms. There was hardly even any dust anywhere. The place did look immaculate for what it was. The varnish on the wooden floor had mostly worn away. The tables were in rough shape, but they all were aligned perfectly.
Owen didn’t bother to look. He cleared his throat looking down at his hands, shaking his head. His long straight black hair fell forward. He looked back at Damon with a frown and pushed his hair back behind his shoulders.
“One green ale coming right up.” Damon said finally heading for the cask.
“Thank you my friend.” Owen heard some mumbling from the bartender as he waddled down to the end of the bar. He let out a big sigh stretching out his short stubby arms making sure it was just loud enough for everyone to think peculiar. “Dear Damon. I am fond of this fine establishment because you treat me well. You always give the scholars effort devoid of complaints. And because you treat me as such, I treat you likewise. You do like it when I treat you well. Do you not?” Damon didn’t answer. He knocked on the wooden cask. The low muffled sound suggested it was still pretty full.
“If it is not a bother, could you fetch me some from your cellar? I much prefer your green ale when it is particularly fresh. It simply is not comparable otherwise.” Owen smiled knowing that Damon would end up going to the basement.
“The batch downstairs hasn’t finished,” said Damon. “It’ll get ya drunk it would, but it would taste awful.” Owen was surprised to hear a response so quickly. Seems the old man has a quick wit after all, he thought.
“You would know better than I, my friend, for you are an expert brewer.”
The clock tower rang out through the town. It was noon now and his client was late as usual. Owen swung around in his stool so he could lean back, put his bony elbows on the counter and face the door as well as the rest of the tavern. It was actually somewhat busy for the time of day. Ten people just before noon on a weekday was more than just about any bar would see at this hour. Yet the bar felt empty. It was a single open room that was several times longer than it was wide. There had to be at least fifty tables free not counting the dozens of seats at the bar.
As he looked across the room, he recognized a few of them. Several were unemployed and hiding in the corner hoping not to be recognized. He smiled. All of them quivering under my thumb, he thought pretending to push down on their heads with his pale white digit.
Daylight poured into the dark tavern as the doors swung open. A silhouette surrounded by blinding light stepped in through the door. It took a moment for Owen’s eyes to adjust, but when they finally did he saw a tall lanky young man dressed in various shades of scruff. Everything was a faded gray. The edges of his clothing were frayed. It seemed the only articles of clothing in good condition were the cloak that hung to his knees and his belt which carried several daggers and various other trinkets. The man gave Owen something between a sneer and a smile and sat down several seats to his left. Don’t you sneer at me, Eaglebeak, Owen thought.
“What can I get you today?” Damon said carefully placing a mug topped with a frothy pale green head on the bar.
“I’m not sure just yet.” The stranger looked over at Owen, then at his strangely colored beer.
“That’s the green ale,” Damon said resting his hands on his large beer gut. “Created the recipe myself. Won’t find anything like it anywhere. Mister Pompeo seems to like it.” Damon gestured towards Owen who gave a big smile and began downing his beer in one fell swoop. The two stared at him.
What the hell does he put into this crap? He thought. I hope I throw up this piss water. Only good thing is throwing it up so he has to clean up the mess. So putrid. But what has to be done, has to be done. He slammed the mug down on the table. His head shook considerably at the bitterness of the beer. After his mini-seizure subsided, he gave a quick look at the man in gray who in return sent a nod of affirmation. You’d better take this job. I’m not drinking that snow for nothing.
“That was simply splendid!” Owen said. “And now I am overcome with anticipation for the second one!”
“Did you say second one?” Damon sighed rubbing his forehead.
“Why of course, my friend,” Owen replied. The man in gray lowered his eyebrows slightly at Owen. Yes I want you to kill twice, you moron. Owen nodded his head back raising his bushy eyebrows.
“I’d like a green ale as well,” said Eaglebeak. Owen smiled, but it faded quickly as he realized he was going to have to drink a second one. Looking to his right, he saw that several of the men hiding in the corner had relocated themselves even farther down the bar away from the windows. He held up his thumb at them again.
“Two greens.” Damon said setting down each mug careful not to spill anything. Owen and Damon both looked at the stranger waiting for his reaction. He took a sip and lowered his eyebrows.
“It is certainly not like any beer your pallet has come across. Is it not?” said Owen smiling. “Quite a wonderful experience.” He had nearly forgotten he would have the chance to watch someone else choke it down. If either of them didn’t finish, then the deal would be off.
“Yeah… a bit different,” the man in gray stared as his cup. Owen had chosen the green ale to be the code for murder, because it was disgusting. It gave both men the confidence that the other was committed to completing the job. This particular guild of rogues required that any job involving murder be initiated with an unpleasant ritual to prove commitment. The traditional ones were to consume insects or to inflict pain on one another. Owen had arranged his own spoiled beer ritual, much to the amusement of the guild. His plan was that he would eventually acquire a taste for it since the sour beer style was popular in the Howlands. However over the past few months it stopped agreeing with him and the taste had become particularly putrid to his pallet.
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Go Red Sox!
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violent_flower
Promising
Supreme Hero
Almost there.
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posted April 09, 2008 05:09 PM |
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Good job now lets finsh MetroGrade goof ball....Miss ya!
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Learn how to duck and weave because I will throw truth at you all day!
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RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
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posted April 09, 2008 08:47 PM |
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Quote:
Good job now lets finsh MetroGrade goof ball....Miss ya!
This is for a school project that I need to graduate. Sorry but this will take priority. At least I'm writing again.
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Go Red Sox!
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violent_flower
Promising
Supreme Hero
Almost there.
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posted April 09, 2008 10:10 PM |
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Yep you are writing and I'm happy....
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Learn how to duck and weave because I will throw truth at you all day!
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RedSoxFan3
Admirable
Legendary Hero
Fan of Red Sox
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posted April 10, 2008 06:53 AM |
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Quote:
Yep you are writing and I'm happy....
O RLY?
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Go Red Sox!
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