A Winter Wasteland...
By Liar X. Agerate (liarxagerate@moonside.net)
Chapter One: The Small Timers...
Two relatively innocent looking people
were sitting on a bench outside of the Fourside Department Store. ("They
must be guilty," you are probably sitting at your computer saying,
"or why would you say they looked innocent?" Touché, I reply,
although I'm wondering why you talk to your computer.) One was a gangly, pale
figure, who was at this moment wearing ugly ReyBan sunglasses and a Runaway 5 T-Shirt.
Presently he had an ancient looking cell phone pressed to his ear. Sitting next
to him was a heavy fellow wearing a "Pirkle for President 198x"
T-Shirt. He was, at this moment, eating a slice of cheese and grease pizza, his
favorite flavor.
"...So, where is this thing?" The gangly one said, mid-conversation
on the cell phone. "And its ours? Okay, tankies a bundle. G'bye."
"Biff..." The gangly one said, turning to face the fat one.
"Yeah boss?" He replied in a heavy lisp.
"I gots me a tip off on some easy loot...it should make us a pretty
penny!"
"Okay boss."
"To the Conmobile!"
"Yeah, boss."
The Conmobile was actually a rusty old Pacer that was at one time painted red.
It had torn up seatcovers, several "I stop for nobody" bumper
stickers, which actually held the frame together, and carried most of their
possessions, the rest of which were inside their "house," a rented
garage with two beds and a 13" Color-tastic! TV from the mid 70's.
But I digress.
The person who had tipped Vinnie, the gangly one, off about this thing had said
it was somehwere inside Jackie's Café, which was currently closed. All the
better. The Pacer rattled to a stop just outside of the old brick building.
Vinnie opened the door and walked out, with Biff following.
He pulled out a straightened paperclip and attempted to work the lock open.
"Agh, look like Jackie wised up and fixed his door. You know what to do,
Biff."
"Yeah, boss." The big guy said, running into the door head first.
(One of the many reasons he didn't say much.) It shook off of the hinges.
Vinnie pushed it open, and with a smug look on his face, said: "Aren't you
glad you have me around to do things like this, Biff?"
"Yeah, boss."
The bar's lights were off, so the faint colors of the jukebox flowed eerily
around the unlit room. The old floorboards creaked as the two walked in. A
record hummed, just barely audible over the chirping of the crickets.
"Huh...He said it was in the closet...Where in de heck is dat?"
"'Ey Boss, lookit dis wa--" Biff began.
"Hey! Do I pay youse to talk? NO! I pay youse to hit
things hard! I'm da brains, you're the...the guy that hits stuff HARD!"
"Okay, Boss, but..."
"Ahem? Did you hear me just now? I am trying to find dis
closet!"
"But Boss...!" He said. Vinnie was about to interrupt, but Biff suddenly
remembered that, while he wasn't the greatest talker, he was much better at another
way of getting his point across. He smashed a crack in the wall of Jackie's
Café he had found. A large hole opened up.
"Hey Biff, I've found it! Come through this hole!"
"Okay Boss. I wish I woulda seed dat."
"'Ey, Biff, that's what I'm here for!"
Vinnie drew a flashlight out of his jacket and flipped it on. "Huh, nuttin
but boxes...Now where's dis loot?" Suddenly his flashlight fell upon a
hole in an old crate. Something inside it gleamed! He ran over and lifted the
top. What in the name of...?
---
A statue. A crummy old statue! He had gone across town in a Pacer for a
crummy old statue. He was ashamed of himself. "What in da heck was I
thinking? I never could trust 'dem East Siders anyways..." He said,
referring to the person that had tipped them off. Dejectedly, he lifted the
statue out of its crate. Gold? He tapped it, and sighed. Hollow, he
thought. What a waste of a perfectly good night.
"Ah, we might as well take it. Mebbe we can trade it for an 8 Track Playa'
'er sometin'."
As Vinnie and Biff went to bed that night, the worthless golden statue sat on
the nightstand/miniature refrigerator, refracting a small amount of light in
the dark garage. Vinnie rolled around on his bed dreaming of a pool full of
hundred dollar bills while Biff dreamed about...well...In any case, at 3:00 the
next morning, the moonlight began to slowly focus on Vinnie's
forehead...Minutes later, it stopped. Vinnie slept through it.
The next morning Vinnie woke up feeling strangely refreshed. In his
ever-so-gentle manner he pushed Biff off of his bed, (which required some
effort, I must say,) and prepared breakfest.
"Hey boss, what're we havin' today?"
"Corn Pops and Pop-Tarts."
"My favorite! Tanks boss."
They ate and discussed their schedule for today. They had to, first and
foremost, prepare for the big day tomorrow, EB No Matsuri! Easy pickins day;
people were all either A) Opening presents, B) Drunk, or C) Drunk to the point
of where you could almost lift a Big Screen TV while they were watching it.
First, of course, they needed costumes to fit into the many costume parties
that happened in Eagleland for EB No Matsuri.
"So, Biff, whaddya bein' for this year?"
"It's a surprise, boss."
"Well I have decided to go as my idol."
"Mayor Pirkle?"
"No, the other great thief of our time: Everdread!"
"Wow, great idea, boss."
"Also, after plenty of scoutin',
I've found the poifect place fer us to hit! 'Dere's gonna be a huge party in
Threed in an' around the Circus tent! And da grand finale...Enrich Flava's
gonna be there! That guy is loaded!"
...and the Big Time...
Enrich Flavor's office sat on the top floor of Eagleland's tallest builidng,
which he owned. He was planning to unveil his plans for a new office tower,
which he called, quite originally according to his yes men, 2 Enrich Flavor
Building, on EB No Matsuri at a party in Threed. That would definitely boost
his approval rating. "It will create jobs!" He could say, without
lying at all. Of course, he didn't have to mention that they'd be custodial and
minimum wage jobs. Ah, it was great to be rich.
*knock knock* "Mr. Flavor, Mr. Flavor!" Enrich waited. "I mean,
Mr. Flavor, King of the Business World and Owner of Foursiiiiiide!"
"Yes...?"
"Well, sir, the park people are here about your new skyscraper,
again!"
"Send them in..." He snarled.
His secretary ran away and soon two people dressed in GreenPieces outfits
entered Flavor's office. "You know..." the first one began,
"that bearskin rug is a horrible, HORRIBLE display of animal murder."
"Yes, and?"
The other one, who wasn't so bright, added: "You'll...uh...put a hole in
the iZone layer!"
"Mm. So, what exactly was it you came to see me about?" He said,
spraying arasol out the window as he always did to annoy environmentalists.
The smart one began to speak. "We have a problem with the building you're
planning in the place of Fourside Park."
"I believe I've gone over this with you, already. I bought the land, I've
had it approved by City Council...It's much more beautiful than any old park,
anyway...The marble statue of Yours Truly on the outside, the art deco design,
the--"
The smart GreenPiecer interceded "Pollution, the crime, the--"
"Nice bonus under your Christmas tree for shutting up?"
"We can build a park somewhere else..." The smart one hastily
finished his conference with Flavor and dragged his partner out with him.
Ah, it's great to be rich, he thought, as he went over his speech for a
final time.