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PostPosted: Sat Apr 15, 2006 11:29 pm 

Joined: Wed Apr 12, 2006 3:40 am
Posts: 22
What if?

The question, "What if?" is not entirely valid, for it cannot truly be answered. It was only a way of showing someone was in denial. When something is done and there's potential danger; and then when the situation is complete and they ask the question, "What if 'this' were to happen?" is pointless. They don't realize that asking that means nothing, if something were to happen, it would've happened, so why worry about something that isn't even a threat any more?

That was the issue previously at hand. No you cannot make small payments for a long time to reimburse for the lost times, it's either all now, or die now. That is what this guy has done for far too long... now it was time for collection.

The butcher shop was cold, dark, and musty. It held the disgusting smell of old rotted wood, infested with fungus and mold. The kind of smell that once it hits your nose, it sticks in the back of your throat and chokes you unless you have a cool glass of water to wash it down. A "comfy" place for a food processing shop.

Vague made his way through the slabs of hanging meat and the links of italian sausage. The smell of mildew and dead cows lingered in the air. It wasn't a pleasant mixture. The ground was covered in the thin blood of animals they chopped up in the back. It's funny how even though both humans and animals are mammals, their blood, organs, and flesh are completely different from each other.

Vague made his way through the aisles of meat, and the splish-splash of the red fluid on the ground, slowly draining down a drainage pipe in the center of the store's floor.

There was chuckling in the back. It wasn't like a "good-joke-told" laughter, it was the kind of laughter that someone was high. It had too high of a pitch to be a joke. The annoying falsetto laugh, that comes from a guy who got kicked in the balls, but enjoyed it enough to laugh. Vague reached the desk, it seemed Vague had won his little bet...

Once the road, twice the trip

The streets were slightly crowded, night folk, people being kicked out of bars for being too drunk, men finding hookers or strippers to fuck once they got to a hotel room, hookers looking for drunk men who looked loaded to make a killing for a 5 minute quickie and a shot to the face, and sometimes even the wives of those men who found the hookers or strippers, looking for their husbands, yelling their names... a few of the men actually got busted. This is what society is falling into.

And yes, this same thing has been preached thousands of times, how the world is going to shit, how everyone is either trash, ignorant, or too wealthy for their own good... but Vague didn't see it like this, he enjoyed seeing people create such great dreams only to fuck them up in their huge power high. He chuckled at the thought of men ditching their wives who tried to love them to instead pay money to have sex and catch an STD, maybe they did that because it's something you can't get at a McDonalds or something like that, you can get anything from a fast food restaurant, a heart disease, obesity, bowel cancer, but you certainly could not get sex or an STD... then again... anything is possible.

Vague continued to walk the streets haunted with crackheads, drug dealers, whores, and the homeless. People giving themselves destruction for happiness, or was it they gave up their happiness for destruction?

The butcher shop lie just ahead. The old wooden sign hung above the street just above the awning. He teetered in the wind creating the cliche "squeeky-hinge" noise you see in horror movies when the dumb blonde girl follows the creepy noise through the house.

"Romano's Butcher Shop," the sign read. Romano in Italian meaning, "From Rome." Vague made a bet with himself that these guys weren't even Italian. He approached the glass door and inside were the hanging meats and the blood soaked floor.

He opened the door slowly and listening to the soft chiming of the bell...

If everyone were to die...

"No regrets," Vague told himself, "Regretting only makes it worse." This had been one of Vague's closely followed philosphies on life. If you regret things you do in the past, then you take life for granted. What you do in the past, you do for a reason, the past is what makes who you are today, you can't change it no matter what... so why regret?

Vague felt the small paper bag of cash tumble in his inner jacket pocket. His jacket wasn't a nice suit jacket, it was just a basic keep-you-warm, jacket. He didn't know how much was in that safe, but it looked to be a decent amount, plenty to bump up to his skipper, hopefully.

Then he looked to his hands as he walked. Through the darkness of the moonless night, and the flickering street lights all up and down the once crowded street, his hands were covered in blood. Something he hadn't seen stained on his hands in months. It had a sweet smell to it, not a sugary sweet smell... but it's own special sweetness, one that was unmatchable, each persons blood was different... like snowflakes, no one's blood was the same, whether they are related or not, no ones.

Vague continued to stare at the blood on his hand, slowly running down his fingers and making a small pool of it in his already cupped palm. And he kept replaying the event over and over in his head, loving every second of it.

Anger in the Back

The bell chimed as Vague's palm tapped the tab to get the worker's attention. There was a strange shuffling approaching. Like plastic on the floor. And from the back, pops a teenager, reeking of marijuana. He looked as if he could be a senior in high school, 17 maybe, or just barely over 18, and he was a prep. The labeled group that always made Vague feel like he was nothing in school. The mere sight of this guy was sickening to him.

"Heeey man... can I, uh... help you?" The boy said. Vague was right, not Italian.

"Maybe... is the owner here?" Vague asked trying to ignore the fact that he already hated this kid.

"Uhh... dude, he's like a sleep right now, in the back," he answered.

"He lives in his butcher shop?" he responded confused.

"Nah, man, not really in the shop, we live behind it, we have our house built in the back," the boy said back.

"Well, me and him have unsettled business, go awaken him." Vague instructed. This contant one line conversation to Vague was getting unnerving and yet the teenager kept persisting.

"Well man, can't you come back tommor--," Vague cut him off.

"No... either wake him up now, or I will," he said, beginning to lose his patience with this pathetic excuse for a human.

"Hey, man, you need to back the fuck off with that, I don't need you getting all hostile and shit, I will fuck your world--," Before he could finish. Vague had enough of this repetitive game. He reached over the counter and grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him over the counter.

Vague quickly spun him around and slammed the side of his face on the counter and put his face close to his so he could be heard at a whisper clearly.

"Now, here's what we're going to do, you are either going to go wake your father up and tell him I need to speak with him quietly, or I swear to God, Allah, or whatever diety you follow, I will put you in excruciating pain, that your screams will wake him up... now which is it going to be?"

"Fuck you!" he shouted. Vague chuckled at his typical response.

"That's right, scream it all out, wake him up before I hurt you, that'll save you the agony." He taunted him.

"I won't do shit for you," he restated. Vague smiled, and put his hand on the table with his index finger sticking out, and the others curled under his hand.

He held his body to the counter with his knee and his hand with his hand. He reached over and grabbed a butcher knife with animal fat still on it. And no hesitation, let the knife come crashing down on his finger, severing it instantly.

The teenager screamed in misery as his finger was lopped off at the second knuckle. And he watched as blood sprayed out after each time his heart pumped. Vague chuckled at this, it was always funny to see something like that. The teenager began crying, and soon after, a scuffling from the back sounded.

"Allen? Are you alright?" The owner from the back cried. Vague grinned as he knew he was going to get things really moving. He let go of the son and held on to the knife.

"Dad!!! H-help mee!!!!!" He screamed. Vague hid to the side of a doorway where the back led. Soon after, the owner comes rushing out with a pistol in hand equipped with a supressor, interesting piece of hardware for a butcher shop owner. But Vague wrapped his arm around the owners throat and clinched tightly. The owner fired two shots, silenced of course, and Vague thrashed his arm against the wall until it fell to the ground. Vague kicked it into the back of the shop.

"Your son wasn't very cooperative, so I had to teach him some manners, I didn't want to hurt him but he needs to learn more respect, I came here for you... now lets get right to business... I'm not here to bargain, make a deal, or get my dick sucked. I am here to get the money that you owe to my employers... and from what I understand... it is a lot of cash... so before you begin begging for your life, think for a second, you are one of our sources of income, the only reason I will take your life is if you threaten me in anyway, and I will not hesitate for one second to execute you in the most disgusting way possible, they will find your scrotum sac strained in an infants strained peas that I will feed directly too it with a glass covered spoon. So here is your choice, you show me where you hold all of you money, and your sons finger will be the last extend of injuries tonight." Vague said calmly, his voice stayed monotone, yet forceful.

The owner was nearly in tears and his words wouldn't come out, "So which is it going to be?" Vague whispered into his ear.

"I-I'll, t-t-take you." The owner stammered. Vague released the owner from his embrace and let him lead him to the back to a medium sized safe, hidden under a nice, study oak table. He entered the combination slowly, and finally turned the handle and opened the door. Many stacks of 20s laid next to and on top of each other... and Vague grinned.

"How much do I owe?" The owner asked.

"How much does it cost for property tax, etc?" Vague asked. The owner thought for a minute and responded,

"About 4500 dollars." Vague chuckled.

"You keep 1300, and give me the rest, this area isn't that large, your property tax shouldn't be more than 300 dollars, and the rest will be for any other supplies and to get your son out there medical attention."

The owner sighed, and seeing that he had no choice, he began counting out 1300 dollars and set them to the side. Vague handed him a relatively large paper bag for him to put the cash in. The owner cooperated, and began piling the money in the bag.

It only took a few minutes for the owner to finally put the last stack into the bag and hand it back to Vague...

"Good man, now, I apologize for doing that to your son, and I don't want to have to do anything like that again... so the next time I or any of my associates drops by, you either pay back the money or you will die then and there, no warning next time... understand?" Vague asked, he didn't say it like you would tell a child not to be a "bad boy", he told it to him respectably, because everyone has his respect until they lose it, he wasn't there to condescend a hard working American, but when someone gets in the way of Vague's work, he has no choice but to show him he means what he says.

The owner replied to Vague's question by a simple nod... and without any more words, Vague left. He exited behind the counter and out of the door... back to the streets onces crowded... now, empty and desolate...


X amount of cash, judges call
Ability to return for X cash every X ((period of time))
Fine Edged Butcher Knife ((which I took lol))
And for all who read to enjoy.

Thanks friends

 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 3:22 am 
Chief of Staff
Chief of Staff

Joined: Sat Mar 11, 2006 7:53 pm
Posts: 350

I'll be completely honest with you, this isn't my favorite type of heist. Everything but the last few sentences of 'Once the road, twice the trip' and below seemed unneeded for me. I never really believed in that whole analyze the world in your heist thing, but I guess I can accept it because frankly you did it quite nicely. There were no grammar issues that I in my ultimate wisdom saw, and I dunno if it's just me, but I really liked the format you used for those last two sections. Ah, I notice you ask for X amount of money, so I'm going to give it to you minus the 1300 that the butcher guy got to keep. Good job, it was a nice little read.

X Amount of Cash Approved-$18700
Permission to come back weekly Approved*
Knife Approved

*The amount you get when you come back will be decided by the quality of the collection RPs

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