Friday, October 26, 2012

A Dose of Death for My Readers!

Check out what I wrote Wednesday!
Unedited and spoiler free! *Real time Readers*!

“Ya bunch of Nancy's,” Gramps said, wiping down a perfectly clean counter with his washrag while steam rose from the soapy water as it filled the basin of his kitchen sink.

He drilled us with those deep slate blue eyes of his, wiping his red and chaffed hands off on his apron.

Which never made him look like a sissy. Hell, if I wore that I'd never live it down. But Gramps could take everyone.

I looked at Alex.

Maybe not him.

“Ya all roar over here, park your lethargic asses at the table like a team of locusts, inhale food then proceed to moon and whine about the girls.”

Yup, that about covered it.

“What happened to Man Freedom?”Gramps asked, the soap from his scalded hands dampening the sides of his apron.

“What's a Nancy?” John asked, deeply troubled by being called a name that sounded somehow creepy and female.

“Sissy-suckin'-titty-baby,” I extolled.

“Oh well, that's so flattering,” Archer said, bringing his potato salad bowl to the hot water and putting it into the sink until it was buried by suds.

“If the shoe fits...” Gramps said, whistling tonelessly while we shifted our weight.

“Go!” Gramps said waving us away. “You could have stayed and had junk food and played pool. Now that's a respectable pursuit of one's time.”

Usually that sounded good. But I couldn't get Jade out of my mind. She and the other girls were having some Chick Hang Fest where they broke out all the girl accouterments and the guys got scarce. I just wanted to do a quick check.

Gramps called me over as the guys stumbled into the driveway, the rain was a steady drizzle but it'd still soak you to the skin. It was deceptive: rain in Washington was wet.

Hardy har-har.

“Spill it, champ,” Gramps said.

I shrugged, jamming my hands in my pocket. “I just can't shake the feeling of impending doom,” I said.

Gramps grinned. “You're such a morose kid, pal.”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

“You've had so much excitement here lately that you're like Pavlov's dog: conditioned for chaos.”

I nodded my head. It was true, Pavlov's dogs had understood that when the bell rang, they'd get their supper, drooling at just the chime of that bell.

Well, I'd gotten used to shit going down that was A) always bizarre, B) usually dangerous and C), a personal favorite, life-changing.

Things were calm. Like when I was little and would gaze out the window where pewter clouds formed, pregnant with rain, ready to storm. But not a leaf stirred, wind only a promise.

My life felt like that.

That a storm was coming and I didn't know from which direction....

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