Post by sonstuds on Oct 30, 2007 21:02:00 GMT -5
{As the rain lightly drops against the roof they stand innocently by the parked car. Neither says a word, simply staring at the red Honda Civic, arms folded and surrounded by empty space in the parking lot. Every so often EBR will make the occasional pace back and forth, simply buying time despite no coherent conclusion. Both stand disappointed, unimpressed, and generally disinterested. The rain continues to sputter out of the light grey sky as EBR softly chews on his cheek, observing the situation.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] I can honestly say I thought we’d make it.
EBR:[/COLOR] I was under that impression myself.
{And now they know that when the gauge reads “E” it should be filled. Lesson learned.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] To be fair, we had yet to pass any gas stations. It was sort of unavoidable.
EBR:[/COLOR] No doubt, no doubt.
{They go back to their instance of silence as EBR looks around. No where near walking distance to his house, and despite the close proximity of the buildings, far too proud to ask for help and admit any potential defeat. Perhaps they should have gone out of their way to get gas first. Perhaps.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] What do we do now? God, I don’t want to have to call a tow truck.
{Quietly thinking, EBR lightly taps his index fingers to his mouth. He attempts to formulate an idea but sadly his mind blanks. At least it’s not his car.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] I got nothing.
Jay:[/color] Fuck . . . fuck.
EBR:[/COLOR] It’s not so bad. At least you were the one driving it. Imagine how pissed Allanah would have been.
Jay:[/color] She’s always telling me I should fill up the tank before I get home.
EBR:[/COLOR] And now we know why.
{They collectively nod as EBR leans against the trunk, looking up at the sky as the rain lightly beams off his nose. It’s almost refreshing.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] You think there’s anyone we can call?
EBR:[/COLOR] {To himself}[/color] What time is it?
{Casually throwing up his arm to allow his sleeve to slightly roll down, he takes a quick glance at his watch.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Darrell should be home.
{Flipping the cover of his cell phone he dials the number as both men patiently wait. EBR makes compulsive clicking noises with his tongue and sways back and forth for several seconds before Jay slowly turns to him, flashing a judgmental and annoyed stare. Self-consciously EBR stops as the phone continues to ring.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Probably jacking off.
{They wait several seconds longer, before E chuckles and shakes the phone in Jay’s direction.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Answering machine. {Quickly changing voices.}[/color] Hey hey, Darrrrell, what’s happening? Jay’s car ran out of gas and I need you to come pick us up. We’re at uh . . . damn, what’s the street name?
{Jay shrugs.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Uh . . . you know, we can go over the details later. And yo, we’re heading out tonight. Come get drunk with us. {Slight pause}[/color] So yeah . . . call me back. Alright . . . bye.
{He shoves his phone into his pocket.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] I never know how to end messages. Should you say “bye” or is it already implied?
Jay:[/color] I just say what comes naturally.
EBR:[/COLOR] Parting phrases always sound so forced when you’re not actually talking to them. It’s always in the back of my mind that they’ll know I’m not sincere about it, but I can’t just hang up. . . hrm.
{Again, they go into a moment of warranted silence.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] So what do you wanna do now? Just wait for Darrell?
Jay:[/color] I really don’t trust him enough to get in the same car as him. He’s probably stuck in a ditch somewhere. Didn’t he get in an accident last week?
EBR:[/COLOR] {Smirking}[/color] He drove into a stop sign.
Jay:[/color] Fucking Darrell, man. But I mean, look. The car didn’t literally run out of gas. . .yet, anyways.
EBR:[/COLOR] Made some weird noises though. . .
Jay:[/color] We might still be able to squirt out a mile, give or take . . . fuck it, we’re driving. Going down swinging!
EBR:[/COLOR] I’m game, but I’m bouncing if it breaks down in the middle of the road. You can wait by yourself; I don’t want to be seen that vulnerable and laugh-at-able.
Jay:[/color] Just let me call Allanah. I dunno how long we might be. . .
{EBR offers his cell phone, but is shot down by Jay.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] She’ll know something’s up if I call from your cell.
{Nodding his head in the direction of the buildings, he continues.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] I’ll just ask to use one of theirs. If they say no I’ll just find a pay phone.
{They begin to walk towards the building, briefly stopping as Jay looks back.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] Think I should lock the door?
EBR:[/COLOR] . . . How far can someone possibly get? Just walk in a given direction for about ten minutes and we’ll find it. It’d actually just save us the embarrassment.
Jay:[/color] True, true. So what should I tell her?
EBR:[/COLOR] You got stuck at work.
Jay:[/color] She knows I get Thursday’s off. You mind if I tell her we were playing basketball then you broke your ankle after getting crossed over, and now I have to take you to the hospital?
EBR:[/COLOR] Just remind me to walk with a limp.
{As they reach the destination EBR stops and takes a carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lightly taps the box, dropping a single cigarette out as he places it in his mouth.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] You coming?
{He shakes his head and lights the cigarette as Jay enters the building. EBR inhales and stands underneath the ledge, shielding himself from the rain which has inexplicably began to pick up. Relaxed, he closes his eyes and leans against the wall. Been smoking since high school when he wanted to look cool, and later into the subsequent years when he was blessed with the inability to kick the habit. A small, almost unheard roar of thunder hisses in the background as within minutes the sky has blackened from its previous state. A fun walk home, EBR anticipates.
He blows a thin cloud of smoke before he’s spotted by a random passerby. The man stares at him for seconds before speaking.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] EBR?
{Grudgingly, EBR nods his head with a fake smile. Why would someone who he has no association or friendship with need to speak to him unless they wanted something in return? No one who gives two shit’s about EBR calls him EBR. It’s always been the clear cut sign.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] Care if I bum one?
{Due to the darkness he doesn’t spot EBR sarcastically rolling his eyes. But from one smoker to another he reaches into his pocket and produces a cigarette, passing it to Obo. Quick to turn his attention elsewhere, he looks into the parking lot before, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Obo lighting up the said cigarette. Slightly intrigued, he comments.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Why do you have a lighter but not a cigarette?
Obo:[/color] I burn things.
{As expected, EBR regrets ever opening his mouth. It’s shocking how he’s unable to successfully carry on a conversation with any of his co-workers. He responds condescendingly, but with it being a co-worker, fully confident they’ll miss the patronizing intent.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Makes sense.
{He returns to staring openly, and again, out of the corner of his eye catches Obo in turn staring at him. He’s like a small child. It’s rather alarming how someone could be so unappreciative of something he had no obligation to even give him. EBR awkwardly motions at his cigarette, hoping it’ll be enough for Obo to leave him alone and go smoke down the street, or at least several feet away from him.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] I’m the WFWF Tag Team Champion again.
{For the first time EBR slightly raises his head, interested. Perhaps if he takes his title he’ll be rid of his debacle of a partner. How things would be looking up.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] You’re taking my title?
Obo:[/color] No.
{He rolls his eyes. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing can work itself out regarding EBR and his home of employment. But still, he entertains the idea of no longer having to be associated with the less successful man with three initials for a name. And while he formulates the entire topic as being nothing but Obo striving for apparently much needed attention, it’s a good enough thought, true or not.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Alright.
{He figures by now that since the conversation piece has been ended Obo will go away, but to no avail. He remains, but at least this time he’s not staring at him. At least directly. EBR initially waits patiently, but his growing frustration increases to the point he makes an advertent cough to get Obo’s attention. He needs to let Obo figure out that he needs to back off.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] You got cancer?
{Go figure. Perhaps teaming up with Obo wouldn’t be much of an improvement over a guy who’s worked at his job for three years and still claims to be the future. EBR doesn’t even want to dignify Obo’s ignorant statement, but at the same time doesn’t want to be rude.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] No.
Obo:[/color] Oh.
{For the first time Obo’s been rendered speechless. Take that, motherfucker. Score one for EBR.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] Aren’t you glad to be rid of that towel head CBT?
{And such has been the case, it apparently never ends. EBR’s unsure he even heard what Obo said. Something about his unwanted partner being a towel head. He’s always assumed his cancerous mole was white. What a random and unnecessary observation to bring up. But he’s all for it if it leads to a verbal bashing of the man EBR beat the shit out of.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] I think CBT’s white.
Obo:[/color] They’re all niggers to me . . sand or chicken . . doesn’t really make a difference?
{Oh God. . . now he’s getting into racial jokes. EBR was always under the impression Obo was from Louisville, though he’s admittedly unsure where he heard that. People from Kentucky have to love chicken. It’s all they’re known for.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Nothing wrong with chicken.
Obo:[/color] Agreed. It’s the grits and the dice and the cornrolls that I hate.
{To the unseen eye Obo’s the stereotypical Kentuckian; a racist and a fan of deep fried chicken. But EBR knows it’s all an act, so instead of the being the stereotypical Kentuckian he gets to be the tool who has a bad sense of comedic timing. But EBR humors him and flashes a fake smile.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] You’re a racist.
Obo:[/color] No I’m not.
{And silence hits. EBR successfully ended the conversation. Score two for EBR. Unfortunately, Obo still won’t leave and both men stand awkwardly, not even looking at one another. EBR tries to take his mind off the insignificant but currently uncomfortable predicament, and considering it was already brought up, he thinks about the WFWF and his upcoming match with Thunder. . .
. . . but it’s a meaningless match that he could care less about it, which is how he classifies every match that doesn’t involve him beating up someone he doesn’t like.
So now it’s just two men who have no historical like for one another, standing side by side like they’re actually friends. This is appalling for EBR, and at the precise moment he contemplates telling Obo to leave him the fuck alone, his phone rings. Thank God.
He frantically scurries through his pocket and takes it out, not even flipping the top open. Fuck it, not like Obo will be able to tell. Drawing Obo’s attention he holds it to the ear he can’t see and strategically nods. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket, quickly putting it on vibrate in the process.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Hey. . . uh. . . I got to go. . .
{Before he can leave Obo raises his hand for a high five. EBR simply stares in disbelief. Obo’s serious. He’s dead fucking serious. That’s exactly the reason EBR won’t open up to him. Whatever. EBR indulges Obo with an uninspired slap on the hand and steps away, wiping his own hand on his pant leg as he moves towards Jay’s car. He swiftly looks back, and after figuring Obo can no longer see him, leans against the car while finishing the cigarette.}[/color]
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I'm impressed I actually had the effort to get something up. Woo.
Jay:[/color] I can honestly say I thought we’d make it.
EBR:[/COLOR] I was under that impression myself.
{And now they know that when the gauge reads “E” it should be filled. Lesson learned.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] To be fair, we had yet to pass any gas stations. It was sort of unavoidable.
EBR:[/COLOR] No doubt, no doubt.
{They go back to their instance of silence as EBR looks around. No where near walking distance to his house, and despite the close proximity of the buildings, far too proud to ask for help and admit any potential defeat. Perhaps they should have gone out of their way to get gas first. Perhaps.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] What do we do now? God, I don’t want to have to call a tow truck.
{Quietly thinking, EBR lightly taps his index fingers to his mouth. He attempts to formulate an idea but sadly his mind blanks. At least it’s not his car.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] I got nothing.
Jay:[/color] Fuck . . . fuck.
EBR:[/COLOR] It’s not so bad. At least you were the one driving it. Imagine how pissed Allanah would have been.
Jay:[/color] She’s always telling me I should fill up the tank before I get home.
EBR:[/COLOR] And now we know why.
{They collectively nod as EBR leans against the trunk, looking up at the sky as the rain lightly beams off his nose. It’s almost refreshing.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] You think there’s anyone we can call?
EBR:[/COLOR] {To himself}[/color] What time is it?
{Casually throwing up his arm to allow his sleeve to slightly roll down, he takes a quick glance at his watch.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Darrell should be home.
{Flipping the cover of his cell phone he dials the number as both men patiently wait. EBR makes compulsive clicking noises with his tongue and sways back and forth for several seconds before Jay slowly turns to him, flashing a judgmental and annoyed stare. Self-consciously EBR stops as the phone continues to ring.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Probably jacking off.
{They wait several seconds longer, before E chuckles and shakes the phone in Jay’s direction.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Answering machine. {Quickly changing voices.}[/color] Hey hey, Darrrrell, what’s happening? Jay’s car ran out of gas and I need you to come pick us up. We’re at uh . . . damn, what’s the street name?
{Jay shrugs.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Uh . . . you know, we can go over the details later. And yo, we’re heading out tonight. Come get drunk with us. {Slight pause}[/color] So yeah . . . call me back. Alright . . . bye.
{He shoves his phone into his pocket.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] I never know how to end messages. Should you say “bye” or is it already implied?
Jay:[/color] I just say what comes naturally.
EBR:[/COLOR] Parting phrases always sound so forced when you’re not actually talking to them. It’s always in the back of my mind that they’ll know I’m not sincere about it, but I can’t just hang up. . . hrm.
{Again, they go into a moment of warranted silence.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] So what do you wanna do now? Just wait for Darrell?
Jay:[/color] I really don’t trust him enough to get in the same car as him. He’s probably stuck in a ditch somewhere. Didn’t he get in an accident last week?
EBR:[/COLOR] {Smirking}[/color] He drove into a stop sign.
Jay:[/color] Fucking Darrell, man. But I mean, look. The car didn’t literally run out of gas. . .yet, anyways.
EBR:[/COLOR] Made some weird noises though. . .
Jay:[/color] We might still be able to squirt out a mile, give or take . . . fuck it, we’re driving. Going down swinging!
EBR:[/COLOR] I’m game, but I’m bouncing if it breaks down in the middle of the road. You can wait by yourself; I don’t want to be seen that vulnerable and laugh-at-able.
Jay:[/color] Just let me call Allanah. I dunno how long we might be. . .
{EBR offers his cell phone, but is shot down by Jay.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] She’ll know something’s up if I call from your cell.
{Nodding his head in the direction of the buildings, he continues.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] I’ll just ask to use one of theirs. If they say no I’ll just find a pay phone.
{They begin to walk towards the building, briefly stopping as Jay looks back.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] Think I should lock the door?
EBR:[/COLOR] . . . How far can someone possibly get? Just walk in a given direction for about ten minutes and we’ll find it. It’d actually just save us the embarrassment.
Jay:[/color] True, true. So what should I tell her?
EBR:[/COLOR] You got stuck at work.
Jay:[/color] She knows I get Thursday’s off. You mind if I tell her we were playing basketball then you broke your ankle after getting crossed over, and now I have to take you to the hospital?
EBR:[/COLOR] Just remind me to walk with a limp.
{As they reach the destination EBR stops and takes a carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket. He lightly taps the box, dropping a single cigarette out as he places it in his mouth.}[/color]
Jay:[/color] You coming?
{He shakes his head and lights the cigarette as Jay enters the building. EBR inhales and stands underneath the ledge, shielding himself from the rain which has inexplicably began to pick up. Relaxed, he closes his eyes and leans against the wall. Been smoking since high school when he wanted to look cool, and later into the subsequent years when he was blessed with the inability to kick the habit. A small, almost unheard roar of thunder hisses in the background as within minutes the sky has blackened from its previous state. A fun walk home, EBR anticipates.
He blows a thin cloud of smoke before he’s spotted by a random passerby. The man stares at him for seconds before speaking.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] EBR?
{Grudgingly, EBR nods his head with a fake smile. Why would someone who he has no association or friendship with need to speak to him unless they wanted something in return? No one who gives two shit’s about EBR calls him EBR. It’s always been the clear cut sign.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] Care if I bum one?
{Due to the darkness he doesn’t spot EBR sarcastically rolling his eyes. But from one smoker to another he reaches into his pocket and produces a cigarette, passing it to Obo. Quick to turn his attention elsewhere, he looks into the parking lot before, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Obo lighting up the said cigarette. Slightly intrigued, he comments.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Why do you have a lighter but not a cigarette?
Obo:[/color] I burn things.
{As expected, EBR regrets ever opening his mouth. It’s shocking how he’s unable to successfully carry on a conversation with any of his co-workers. He responds condescendingly, but with it being a co-worker, fully confident they’ll miss the patronizing intent.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Makes sense.
{He returns to staring openly, and again, out of the corner of his eye catches Obo in turn staring at him. He’s like a small child. It’s rather alarming how someone could be so unappreciative of something he had no obligation to even give him. EBR awkwardly motions at his cigarette, hoping it’ll be enough for Obo to leave him alone and go smoke down the street, or at least several feet away from him.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] I’m the WFWF Tag Team Champion again.
{For the first time EBR slightly raises his head, interested. Perhaps if he takes his title he’ll be rid of his debacle of a partner. How things would be looking up.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] You’re taking my title?
Obo:[/color] No.
{He rolls his eyes. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing can work itself out regarding EBR and his home of employment. But still, he entertains the idea of no longer having to be associated with the less successful man with three initials for a name. And while he formulates the entire topic as being nothing but Obo striving for apparently much needed attention, it’s a good enough thought, true or not.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Alright.
{He figures by now that since the conversation piece has been ended Obo will go away, but to no avail. He remains, but at least this time he’s not staring at him. At least directly. EBR initially waits patiently, but his growing frustration increases to the point he makes an advertent cough to get Obo’s attention. He needs to let Obo figure out that he needs to back off.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] You got cancer?
{Go figure. Perhaps teaming up with Obo wouldn’t be much of an improvement over a guy who’s worked at his job for three years and still claims to be the future. EBR doesn’t even want to dignify Obo’s ignorant statement, but at the same time doesn’t want to be rude.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] No.
Obo:[/color] Oh.
{For the first time Obo’s been rendered speechless. Take that, motherfucker. Score one for EBR.}[/color]
Obo:[/color] Aren’t you glad to be rid of that towel head CBT?
{And such has been the case, it apparently never ends. EBR’s unsure he even heard what Obo said. Something about his unwanted partner being a towel head. He’s always assumed his cancerous mole was white. What a random and unnecessary observation to bring up. But he’s all for it if it leads to a verbal bashing of the man EBR beat the shit out of.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] I think CBT’s white.
Obo:[/color] They’re all niggers to me . . sand or chicken . . doesn’t really make a difference?
{Oh God. . . now he’s getting into racial jokes. EBR was always under the impression Obo was from Louisville, though he’s admittedly unsure where he heard that. People from Kentucky have to love chicken. It’s all they’re known for.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Nothing wrong with chicken.
Obo:[/color] Agreed. It’s the grits and the dice and the cornrolls that I hate.
{To the unseen eye Obo’s the stereotypical Kentuckian; a racist and a fan of deep fried chicken. But EBR knows it’s all an act, so instead of the being the stereotypical Kentuckian he gets to be the tool who has a bad sense of comedic timing. But EBR humors him and flashes a fake smile.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] You’re a racist.
Obo:[/color] No I’m not.
{And silence hits. EBR successfully ended the conversation. Score two for EBR. Unfortunately, Obo still won’t leave and both men stand awkwardly, not even looking at one another. EBR tries to take his mind off the insignificant but currently uncomfortable predicament, and considering it was already brought up, he thinks about the WFWF and his upcoming match with Thunder. . .
. . . but it’s a meaningless match that he could care less about it, which is how he classifies every match that doesn’t involve him beating up someone he doesn’t like.
So now it’s just two men who have no historical like for one another, standing side by side like they’re actually friends. This is appalling for EBR, and at the precise moment he contemplates telling Obo to leave him the fuck alone, his phone rings. Thank God.
He frantically scurries through his pocket and takes it out, not even flipping the top open. Fuck it, not like Obo will be able to tell. Drawing Obo’s attention he holds it to the ear he can’t see and strategically nods. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket, quickly putting it on vibrate in the process.}[/color]
EBR:[/COLOR] Hey. . . uh. . . I got to go. . .
{Before he can leave Obo raises his hand for a high five. EBR simply stares in disbelief. Obo’s serious. He’s dead fucking serious. That’s exactly the reason EBR won’t open up to him. Whatever. EBR indulges Obo with an uninspired slap on the hand and steps away, wiping his own hand on his pant leg as he moves towards Jay’s car. He swiftly looks back, and after figuring Obo can no longer see him, leans against the car while finishing the cigarette.}[/color]
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I'm impressed I actually had the effort to get something up. Woo.
, to hear I had no typos is a win in itself. Yeah!
