Post by Capitan Sinn on Feb 4, 2010 18:59:22 GMT -5
Forget About it
By Captain Seath Alexander Sinclaire
The bar was almost empty. It was run down, with dingy walls and mismatched furnishings, a typical hole in the wall. Music warbled from a badly damaged jukebox, though it still played its music loud enough for the bar to hear, understanding what song was playing was the challenge. Two men sat at a table in the far corner, away from the bar and their only fellow patron. The first man was small and sickly looking, he appeared nervous, constantly peaking over his shoulder. The other was an average looking man, though he talked with a faint accent.
"Have a drink, settle yourself, you could attract attention acting that way." The man with the foreign accent said.
The twitchy man nodded, and hailed the middle-aged waitress over to the table; she came over and leaned down to hear them over the broken jukebox.
"Two draft Miller Lights." the twitchy man said and waved the waitress away.
"Gyros, I'm not so sure about this."
The foreigner hushed the other as the waitress came back with the two large glasses of beer.
"It's done, you know that Bern." Gyros said.
"Can we trust him?"
"Do we have another choice?"
Bern opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. A moment later he said. "I suppose you're right." His tone sounded like he still wasn't entirely sure. He took a long drink of his beer, as if he was trying to drown himself.
"It's a shame, a blasted shame that it ended that way."
Gyros stifled a groan, his partner never shut up.
"We've already paid, it wasn't cheap, and I am getting a return from my investment!" Gyros whispered fiercely.
Bern nodded sullenly and downed the remainder of his beer. He held up one finger to the waitress across the bar, pointing to his empty glass. A minute later she placed the beer on the table and briskly walked away again.
“We weren’t given a choice. You know that.”
“I know.” Bern meekly replied, drinking his beer slower this time.
Gyros just sighed; he didn’t know what to say about this, so he didn’t say anything. They drank their beers and listened to what might have been an Elvis song.
“If it helps, it’s in the past, forget about it.” Gyros tried to sound sympathetic, but didn’t manage to pull it off. He stood up, placed some money on the counter and gestured for Bern to follow.
They left the saloon and got into their rusted car. The bartender saw them speed off; they were in the middle of a bridge, on their way back to town when he heard a gunshot. The car slammed into the railing of the bridge, but that didn’t stop the speeding car, the railing shattered and the car careened into to the murky water of the Mississippi River, never to be found again.
By Captain Seath Alexander Sinclaire
The bar was almost empty. It was run down, with dingy walls and mismatched furnishings, a typical hole in the wall. Music warbled from a badly damaged jukebox, though it still played its music loud enough for the bar to hear, understanding what song was playing was the challenge. Two men sat at a table in the far corner, away from the bar and their only fellow patron. The first man was small and sickly looking, he appeared nervous, constantly peaking over his shoulder. The other was an average looking man, though he talked with a faint accent.
"Have a drink, settle yourself, you could attract attention acting that way." The man with the foreign accent said.
The twitchy man nodded, and hailed the middle-aged waitress over to the table; she came over and leaned down to hear them over the broken jukebox.
"Two draft Miller Lights." the twitchy man said and waved the waitress away.
"Gyros, I'm not so sure about this."
The foreigner hushed the other as the waitress came back with the two large glasses of beer.
"It's done, you know that Bern." Gyros said.
"Can we trust him?"
"Do we have another choice?"
Bern opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. A moment later he said. "I suppose you're right." His tone sounded like he still wasn't entirely sure. He took a long drink of his beer, as if he was trying to drown himself.
"It's a shame, a blasted shame that it ended that way."
Gyros stifled a groan, his partner never shut up.
"We've already paid, it wasn't cheap, and I am getting a return from my investment!" Gyros whispered fiercely.
Bern nodded sullenly and downed the remainder of his beer. He held up one finger to the waitress across the bar, pointing to his empty glass. A minute later she placed the beer on the table and briskly walked away again.
“We weren’t given a choice. You know that.”
“I know.” Bern meekly replied, drinking his beer slower this time.
Gyros just sighed; he didn’t know what to say about this, so he didn’t say anything. They drank their beers and listened to what might have been an Elvis song.
“If it helps, it’s in the past, forget about it.” Gyros tried to sound sympathetic, but didn’t manage to pull it off. He stood up, placed some money on the counter and gestured for Bern to follow.
They left the saloon and got into their rusted car. The bartender saw them speed off; they were in the middle of a bridge, on their way back to town when he heard a gunshot. The car slammed into the railing of the bridge, but that didn’t stop the speeding car, the railing shattered and the car careened into to the murky water of the Mississippi River, never to be found again.
