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filthgoblinI did a silly questionnaire thingy on Facebook at the weekend. It asked you to take the last 21 people who had posted on your Facebook wall and answer a series of questions about them. One of the questions asked you to "describe the relationship between 10 and 20". Now in my case, 10 and 20 do not have a relationship. They were not, until that questionnaire, even aware that the other existed. However, the person who'd completed the meme before me had been in the same predicament and had said just that. So I decided to be a little more inventive and wrote
10 runs a bar in New Mexico. 20 is a beautiful but deadly go-go dancer. Together they fight crime iiiiiiin myyyyyy miiiiiiind
Person 20, Erin, seemed to think this was hilarious, so I decided to expand. It's deliberately silly and is meant to come across in a pulp fiction stylee [the books, that is, not the film...]. Less than 800 words, and no warnings other than to expect extreme silliness.
~*~
Erin Thomson was a woman with seduction in her eyes and revenge on her mind. The clientele at the Golden Oyster knew her as Desire: the hottest go-go dancer at the hottest bar in New Mexico. Tim "Austin" Brown, owner of the Golden Oyster, knew talent when he saw it, and when he spied Desire he just knew he was on to a winner. There wasn't a man in a twenty mile radius of Santa Fe who could resist the allure of Desire. No man, that was, apart from Austin himself, whose interests in affairs of the flesh lay someplace a million miles away from Desire's abundant charms. But he knew his customers and he knew what they liked. The moment she strutted into the dimly lit bar, he'd hired her before she'd even parted her beautiful lips to ask for work.
No sooner had she started to wind her moves on the stage, takings at the Golden Oyster leapt by almost 50%. Austin was not surprised; Desire was not backwards about asking for her share. Their working relationship was strong, but it was on one uncharacteristically quiet and gloomy night in January that they became more than colleagues. From that night onwards, they were partners.
Austin poured the latest of several perfectly mixed mojitos and pushed it across the bar to Desire. She sipped it seductively - she could scarcely do a thing in a way that was anything but - and listened as he talked about his life outside the bar. She had never thought of him as anything other than her employer, bar-owner and convivial host to the swelling crowds that her arrival had brought to their small corner of the night, but her eyebrows rose as he waxed lyrical about his charity work for the New Mexico Institute for Kicked Puppies. It was a cause that was close to her heart.
Desire was only a little girl when her daddy first brought home a pooch from the Institute all those years ago, and hearing the tale of Peppy's sad life before he was rescued by the brave and tireless workers had reduced her to tears. He was so tiny, so helpless, and the fact that someone could be so cruel as to hurt this small, defenceless creature broke her naive heart. But those tears of pain and anguish she had shed for poor Peppy soon crystallised to something sterner. She was just nine years old when she vowed to make it her life's work to avenge the mistreated mutts. It was a lifetime's task in which she was still engaged.
Tongue loosened to loquaciousness by Austin's liberally poured liquor, Desire confessed her passion. As Austin listened patiently, she told him how she stalked around the Institute to pick up snippets of intelligence on the likely perpetrators of cruelty. Whilst she was young she'd practiced martial arts, and having gained a black belt in Haiku she used her deadly skills to exact punishment in short form on those who made young dogs suffer like Peppy had all those years ago. But recently her run had dried up. Procedures at the Institute were much tighter since the appointment of a new Director and information was much harder to find.
It seemed like double-providence. Maybe it was not just talent and business opportunity for which Austin had an eye. Fate had brought across his threshold a kindred spirit. He, like Desire, had sworn to protect the innocent and abused, but unlike her had chosen the established path. After arriving from New York at the tender age of 17, he'd worked as a volunteer for the Institute all kinds of unsocial hours, cleaning out kennels and tending the wounds of injured animals between putting in 80 hours a week as a bartender to make his living. Respect for his dedication was widespread throughout the institute and around the same time as his finances permitted his purchase of a small bar on the outskirts of town, the committee had suggested that he do some work that was less hands-on. He turned around his first bar from a flea-pit dive into a huge success, whilst at the same time campaigning to raise the profile of the Institute across the State. The year he bought the Golden Oyster was the same he was appointed as chair of the committee, but outside of the bar he went by the name of Tim Brown, Desire had never made the connection between Austin and the Institute.
He was on the inside. She circled without. Austin realised with his information and her deadly charms, they could make a powerful alliance. With a smile, Austin poured himself a large pink gin and raised a glass to clink with Desire's. "You an' me, gorgeous" he drawled. "Together we can fight this evil menace."
10 runs a bar in New Mexico. 20 is a beautiful but deadly go-go dancer. Together they fight crime iiiiiiin myyyyyy miiiiiiind
Person 20, Erin, seemed to think this was hilarious, so I decided to expand. It's deliberately silly and is meant to come across in a pulp fiction stylee [the books, that is, not the film...]. Less than 800 words, and no warnings other than to expect extreme silliness.
Erin Thomson was a woman with seduction in her eyes and revenge on her mind. The clientele at the Golden Oyster knew her as Desire: the hottest go-go dancer at the hottest bar in New Mexico. Tim "Austin" Brown, owner of the Golden Oyster, knew talent when he saw it, and when he spied Desire he just knew he was on to a winner. There wasn't a man in a twenty mile radius of Santa Fe who could resist the allure of Desire. No man, that was, apart from Austin himself, whose interests in affairs of the flesh lay someplace a million miles away from Desire's abundant charms. But he knew his customers and he knew what they liked. The moment she strutted into the dimly lit bar, he'd hired her before she'd even parted her beautiful lips to ask for work.
No sooner had she started to wind her moves on the stage, takings at the Golden Oyster leapt by almost 50%. Austin was not surprised; Desire was not backwards about asking for her share. Their working relationship was strong, but it was on one uncharacteristically quiet and gloomy night in January that they became more than colleagues. From that night onwards, they were partners.
Austin poured the latest of several perfectly mixed mojitos and pushed it across the bar to Desire. She sipped it seductively - she could scarcely do a thing in a way that was anything but - and listened as he talked about his life outside the bar. She had never thought of him as anything other than her employer, bar-owner and convivial host to the swelling crowds that her arrival had brought to their small corner of the night, but her eyebrows rose as he waxed lyrical about his charity work for the New Mexico Institute for Kicked Puppies. It was a cause that was close to her heart.
Desire was only a little girl when her daddy first brought home a pooch from the Institute all those years ago, and hearing the tale of Peppy's sad life before he was rescued by the brave and tireless workers had reduced her to tears. He was so tiny, so helpless, and the fact that someone could be so cruel as to hurt this small, defenceless creature broke her naive heart. But those tears of pain and anguish she had shed for poor Peppy soon crystallised to something sterner. She was just nine years old when she vowed to make it her life's work to avenge the mistreated mutts. It was a lifetime's task in which she was still engaged.
Tongue loosened to loquaciousness by Austin's liberally poured liquor, Desire confessed her passion. As Austin listened patiently, she told him how she stalked around the Institute to pick up snippets of intelligence on the likely perpetrators of cruelty. Whilst she was young she'd practiced martial arts, and having gained a black belt in Haiku she used her deadly skills to exact punishment in short form on those who made young dogs suffer like Peppy had all those years ago. But recently her run had dried up. Procedures at the Institute were much tighter since the appointment of a new Director and information was much harder to find.
It seemed like double-providence. Maybe it was not just talent and business opportunity for which Austin had an eye. Fate had brought across his threshold a kindred spirit. He, like Desire, had sworn to protect the innocent and abused, but unlike her had chosen the established path. After arriving from New York at the tender age of 17, he'd worked as a volunteer for the Institute all kinds of unsocial hours, cleaning out kennels and tending the wounds of injured animals between putting in 80 hours a week as a bartender to make his living. Respect for his dedication was widespread throughout the institute and around the same time as his finances permitted his purchase of a small bar on the outskirts of town, the committee had suggested that he do some work that was less hands-on. He turned around his first bar from a flea-pit dive into a huge success, whilst at the same time campaigning to raise the profile of the Institute across the State. The year he bought the Golden Oyster was the same he was appointed as chair of the committee, but outside of the bar he went by the name of Tim Brown, Desire had never made the connection between Austin and the Institute.
He was on the inside. She circled without. Austin realised with his information and her deadly charms, they could make a powerful alliance. With a smile, Austin poured himself a large pink gin and raised a glass to clink with Desire's. "You an' me, gorgeous" he drawled. "Together we can fight this evil menace."
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no subject
Date: 2009-08-17 03:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 01:07 pm (UTC)I dearly wish my FB friends would write fiction about me. They just invite me to join their pirate crews and I WON'T DO THAT. :(
no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 01:11 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it =D
ETA - I agree. No pirate crews. No teddy bears, no growing gifts, no sheep-throwing, no stupid virtual cocktails. I like my cocktails to be tangible, TYVM. Oh, and under no circumstances did I need to know that you were a fan of morning sex or wearing your wife's panties whilst she's at the mall. KTHX.