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There are a million stories in the Windy City (aka Chicago). Actually, Chicago's population is 2.715 million (as of the 2012 census according to Google, the Wikipedia article estimates closer to 2.718). So if each individual life is regarded as its own narrative, then there are approximately 2.718 million stories. However, if the definition of "story" is taken to mean a series of events which encompass the lives of several characters framed in the context of a narrative with a beginning, middle and end, then there may actually be fewer than one million stories. The lives of multiple individuals could be coinsidered to be covered by a single "story" as most lives interact with many others. Not mine though. My story started with a dame. They all start with a dame. Where's the "equality" in that? Makes you think. Spoiler alert: My story also ends with a dame, though I didn't know it when she walked in. "What can I do for you, sweeheart?" I asked. It was option B. "Uguuuu! Get away from me!" her eyes squeezed shut and she clenched her tiny fists into featureless spheres. Her love meter bleeds out, red pixels vanishing from the glass pipette hovering over her head like fun size Hershey bars vanishing from a bulk bag of Halloween candy. I never saw her again. Bad Ending. drat.
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Sep 4, 2014 16:34
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| # ¿ May 22, 2024 13:40 |
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Applewhite fucked around with this message at 01:33 on Sep 5, 2014 |
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Sep 5, 2014 01:30
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The dame was all in a bluster about something or other. "Slow down, sweetcheeks" I told her. She prickled at being called "sweetcheeks" and started to get hostile. I don't know why girls can't recognize a compliment.
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Sep 5, 2014 12:22
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The man stared at me with cold eyes that were the color of Rearden Metal. On the table between us, the small apparatus he'd brough with him puffed away quietly. I admired the delicate moving parts and wondered where I could get one of my own. "You're walking in the desert," the man said. Apparently initiating some kind of roleplay. "Which desert?" I asked. "It doesn't matter." "It does matter, because which desert informs how I might have gotten there, and what supplies I'd be carrying, not to mention important landmarks, native species, average rainfall-" "The Sahara," he cut me off. "You're walking in the Sahara desert." "Okay," I answered. In my mindspace, I began to queue up my perfect recall of the Sahara's wikipedia article, noting that the Sahara recieved around 3000 hours of daylight at this time of year. The man continued with the campaign. "You see a tortoise," he said. "You reach out and-" "What kind of tortoise?" I interrupted. "I don't know, any kind," his tone might have indicated irritation. I didn't care, it's not my job to educate people in the art of DMing, he should be grateful I'm taking the time. "Probably an African Spurred Tortoise then," I answered. "Which would indicate I'm on the southern edge of the Sahara. I do a perception check for oases." "You reach out and flip the tortoise on its back," the man said, firmly. "Am I wearing gloves? Tortoises are carriers of salmonella..." He let out an exhasperated sigh. Outside the window, the lights of the Tyrell Corporation pyramid began to flicker on as the heavy, orange sun began to dip below the horizon. Applewhite fucked around with this message at 14:31 on Sep 5, 2014 |
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Sep 5, 2014 13:53
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Sep 6, 2014 01:48
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Sep 6, 2014 04:20
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Sep 6, 2014 19:08
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If anyone knows how to do title lettering you're welcome to make it look neater. I don't know how to get vectors to behave properly so those are painstakingly hand-drawn. Here's the chars by themselves on a transparency: http://imgur.com/NNmZxjf Applewhite fucked around with this message at 19:19 on Sep 6, 2014 |
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Sep 6, 2014 19:14
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"Sam, I'm so scared!" The dame's voice was all a quiver. The mooks that trashed her apartment were obviously trying to send a message. "I know a trick that can help you feel less afraid," I told her. "Oh?" she asked. "What's that?" "It's an old ditty my mother taught me, always makes me feel better," I said, squaring up my shoulders, trying to appear larger to establish myself as an alpha male. "Repeat after me: I must not fear, fear is the mind killer..."
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Sep 7, 2014 21:31
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 As a private eye, I'd seen death before of course, and shown little or no emotion. People who I never knew or would know. But seeing Fluttershy lying there made me stop and evaluate, made me actually look at what was really happening...
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Sep 8, 2014 03:09
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This is what the refrans Applewhite fucked around with this message at 03:22 on Sep 8, 2014 |
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Sep 8, 2014 03:12
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The kid's mother showed me down to the basement. "He and his friends would spend most of their time down here," she told me. "The day it happened... One of them, a friend of his I'd never met before, came sprinting up out of the basement. He almost knocked me down on his way out. I went down to check on Tommy and that's..." She choked down a sniffle. Water was leaking from her eyes and her voice quavered when she spoke. Possibly a sign of a developing cold, or possibly some neurological disorder. I took a step back to reduce my risk of infection. "...that's when I found him." she sniffed. I stepped around her and surveyed the room. A chalk outline deliniated where Tommy's corpse had been, a ghost shape sprawled out on the carpet. "The police have already been over everything?" I asked. She nodded. "I haven't touched anything since they've been down here." "I thought I recognized Inspector DuChamp's shoddy work. As usual, he's ignored everything important." The dame sniffled again. "Th-they said they'd do their best, but that he was probably already long gone. A friend of mine told me you were the person to call in situations like this," she gave me an intense look. "Can you do it, Mr. Sperglord? Can you find my son's killer?" I scanned the room once more. Copies of the US edition of Shonen Jump were strewn around, as well as left-to right westernized bastardizations of Inu Yasha manga. A clamshell case for the 4Kids dub of Yu Gi Oh rested partway open on top of the DVD player. The DVD itself presumably still inside. "I could find your son's killer, ma'm, but I won't." Even I could tell the look she gave me was one of shock. "As far as I'm concerned," I continued, "this was a justifiable homicide."
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Sep 9, 2014 15:56
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| # ¿ May 22, 2024 13:40 |
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The suspects drifted into the parlor one by one, puzzled by the detective's late-night summons. "What's all this about, Sperglord?" demanded Colonel Grufflingsberg, his huge moustache quivering indigantly. "All will be revealed in time, Colonel, once we are all assembled," answered Sperglord, his piggy eyes twinkling with mischief. He turned to greet the maid, Julia Pennybottom, as she shuffled timidly into the parlor. "M'lady" he said, tipping his hat before turning to the rest of the group. "Now that we are all here, I have an announcement." "I expect you've discovered who the murderer is so we can finally depart this ghastly manor?" Lady Chunkington-Smythe sniffed haughtily, clutching her tiny dog to her ample bosom. "Not quite, Lady Chunkington," answered the detective, scrupulously avoiding looking at her as he spoke. "But, we are close." He gestured to the table, where he'd placed a pistol in the exact center. "On that table is a loaded gun. Specifically, it's a Colt Official Police. A medium frame, six-shot, double-action revolver with a six-round cylinder, primarily chambered for the .38 Special cartridge, and manufactured by the Colt's Manufacturing Company. "Now, I am going to go to the lights and turn them off, then on, then off, then on and off three times in rapid succession, then leave them on to the count of five, and then off and the killer..." Sam paused, smiling, "will reveal himself." Applewhite fucked around with this message at 15:40 on Sep 25, 2014 |
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Sep 25, 2014 14:44
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