|
in I've written nothing in months
|
#
¿
Feb 1, 2024 08:25
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ May 14, 2024 16:54 |
|
|
Renewal Apex / Strange Locations Travelling by elephant, one can reach the scared forests from the upper reaches of the Ganges within a month to the place where Hiram James, my mentor late of The Times, met his demise at the hands of a holy man that the natives worship as a god, or so I am told. On my arrival at the village I was greeted with great trepidation by the people, who nevertheless treated me well. I finally gained a audience with the headman, a nondescript elderly native that looked like any other and whom the others treated with no great deference. He told me the story of how this god protected the forest from all harm, and Hiram had inadvertently torn a piece of bark while leaning on a tree, and was slain by the god. The following morn we started into the mountain and reached the forests edge just as the heat reached it's zenith, and I went inside to the place he had been killed. I took out my machete and slammed it into the nearest tree, causing the natives to take fright as I took my navy colt from my pack and stood, expecting a wait, but there before me was the god, a tall older man, naked and covered in white clay. He held aloft a golden sword and charged as I shot the man in the chest. It is strange now to think of it after all these years, how I became the Forest King. For now.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 1, 2024 08:59
|
|
|
fergot the wurds, its 250
|
|
#
¿
Feb 1, 2024 09:13
|
|
|
Another Sinner Laid to Rest Gooseberry Pie / Exactly six sentences 146 words Now look at that man down there, that seemingly industrious man living a quiet existence as a peaceable tiller of the soil. Much like the man he killed back in Fort Worth in the fall of ‘83, God rest his soul. And as it pertains to souls, I must admit I have delivered many a sinner unto the Lord’s judgement, as decreed by the State of Texas that they be apprehend dead or alive. Being as it were, I prefer to cut out any middlemen. At times before I lay a man to his final rest, I will say a short prayer for his immortal soul should I deem the man’s actions not too disagreeable to the nature of men. But in the case of our sinner here, he was an evil man, and shall gain nothing but eternal hellfire, and I shall shoot him gladly.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 1, 2024 12:26
|
|
|
a friendly penguin posted:Becalming I think this is pretty great, it really rings true, all the hopes and fears towards what I'll assume is a first kid. It gives me single mother vibes. I can't really fault it, maybe the comma after 'lullabies', but I'm not really the guy when it comes to literary technical stuff. Oh, maybe it could show how tiring it is, the lack of sleep, better? But given the limitations of the prompt, it's a minor thing. Ya done good.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 3, 2024 00:32
|
|
|
flash frontier - quiet 250 Love Gone Wrong On the whole me and her get along fine in spite of things. She were a troubled woman and I guess I’m a troubled man, especially now that’s she dead on the kitchen floor. Funny how I’m not mad no more just looking at her among the butts and crap of the cracked linoleum she never cleaned. Can’t even remember what it was about this time. I stumble off to the fridge to get a beer and there’s none and I remembered that’s why. Maybe she’s just passed out drunk. Shouldn’t have hit her so hard, not like the bitch couldn’t take it cause if I knew her daddy right she’d been taking it awhile. I try picking her up and fall down drunk besides her and she gives off a groan. Still alive, well aint that something. Yes, Jesus, I love you too. Let’s get you to bed my sweet. I get her in bed and she’s awake and not saying a lot, the old silent treatment. I go to the dresser to get undressed and I can hear her rustling around doing the same if she knew what’s good. I turn to get in and see she’s pointing my old .45 at me looking mad as hell and before I could say a thing she shoots me and now I’m looking at the stains on the ceiling. I try calling for help but nothing comes out but blood as she runs past and I hear the door close.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 5, 2024 03:52
|
|
|
flash frontier - quiet 250 Primates Yankov Sammuddictch, autist and autodidact, was confused by the days events, having gone from top sales executive to unemployed within the hour after a meeting with his boss, Mr Zekov. Yankov turned the curious event in his mind while feeding the ducks in the pond his lunch. Mr Zekov first had congratulated him on his figures, offering Yankov a cigar, which he refused on account of his mother, then some vodka, which Yankov also graciously declined. Mr Zekov had seemed pleased by what he called ‘sober habits’ and invited Yankov to his house to dine, and to meet his wife and daughter. To this Yankov also declined knowing he had a full schedule that month teaching violin, studying Nietzsche and watching trains, and further explained that he was celibate. Mr Zekov listened in acceptance at first, then seemed to pause a moment before launching into a furious tirade and firing him on the spot. Yankov pondered this in silence, what had he done wrong? It dawned upon him that Mr Zekov became angry on the third refusal, therefore one must accept whatever is offered if two previous offers were refused. He wrote it in his notebook to think upon later. In the quiet of his room Yankov pondered the notebook. It became clear to him Mr Zekov wanted him to mate with the two females, and Yankov very much wanted his job back. He decided to present himself to them the next morning and started reading on biology to prepare.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 5, 2024 05:51
|
|
|
In. also, please don't die
|
|
#
¿
Feb 5, 2024 09:21
|
|
|
moooved
Fat Jesus fucked around with this message at 08:11 on Mar 12, 2024 |
|
#
¿
Feb 10, 2024 02:53
|
|
|
yeah I'm in I guess
|
|
#
¿
Feb 17, 2024 02:56
|
|
|
Week 602: (Un)familiar Places Story Time 1248 words It was dark when I arrived outside Dave’s house and I just sat there awhile looking at it past the streaks of rain from the car, bemused by how little it had changed. There was a small light inside so I went up and knocked just as the weather started coming down again. Nothing. I was about to turn away when the door opened a crack, then closed with the rattling of the chain, and flew open. Guess I hadn’t changed that much either. Outwardly at least. “Jimmy! Is that you? poo poo, come in, get inside!” Dave had changed. Fatter and thinner at the same time, hair as faded as the paint on the door. “Thanks mate.” is all I could think to say as I followed him inside, and not a lot had changed there apart from a desk with a computer and monitor. He turned on a light as I sat down at the spot I’d always had in years gone and looked about. Some older clutter replaced with new, the dents and scrapes in the badly repaired walls the ghosts of parties and fights, a blur of good times and bad. I half expected Mincer to come wagging out but of course he didn’t have a dog no more. Or apparently a woman, news I could discern without being told from the state of the house when compared to the woman in questions’ habits. All that time had passed like eons and many a night I would think of this very room where we’d hang out selling weed and blow. The memories that sustained me inside just didn’t seem so happy now facing the reality of it, and who we really were. “What happened to Judy?” I asked. “Oh mate, she run off like five years ago, just fuckin’ left.” Dave said “You want a beer?” “No, no I gotta drive.” I said “Well poo poo you look good, they feed you proper in there now do they?” he said. “If you came to visit now and then you’d have seen Her Majesty’s luxury resort for yourself.” “Yeah sorry, it’s a long way... I sent ya some cash remember?” “Sad to report that 20 quid didn’t last the full 8 years.” I said “poo poo’s been hard.” is all he says, lighting a cigarette. “The boys still around?” “You know they ain’t.” he said, quieter now as we approached the past. “Not baggin’ poo poo no more then?” He shakes his head. “Shame.” I said, “Good while it lasted.” I realised I was looking at him too hard and he began to fidget a bit, and I figured I might as well get down to it. “Funny how they got me.” There it was hanging in the air, an accusation masquerading as a simple statement of fact. He shifted in his chair and fidgeted with the cushion again. “Yeah… that was poo poo luck mate.” he said, nervous now. “Yes it was, I mean how the gently caress did they know? Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes, those guys.” I give a laugh and he tries to laugh along like old times but it comes out strange, almost a choking. I give a wink, wagging a finger at him, then pointing to the TNT tattoo on my wrist, just like his own. “Tell no tales.” I said. He understands my drift, of course he does. He only pretends to be an idiot. “I didn’t say poo poo.” he said. “Oh yes you did.” He put his hand behind the cushion but it didn’t bother me. “How you figurin’ that? You heard bullshit!” I motion to where his hand is. “You feelin’ guilty?” I laugh as he takes his hand away from whatever’s there with a sheepish look, still empty as his stony heart. We sat there a long moment in the weirdness of it all. I sighed and leaned forward. “Story time,” I said, “once upon a time a handsome prince found himself in a bit of bother, and the cops were not interested in the prince’s offer to betray the king, for they already had their arm far up the king’s arse.” I said. I could see his brain going into overdrive trying to select an emotion. “What?” I rolled my eyes. Maybe he is an idiot after all. “I offered to turn on you, but alas, they had already got you to turn on me.” I spread my hands in amazement. “So I’m hosed if I know where we are now, you oval office.” He looks at me, stunned by my incredible tale. His face contorts once again as he calculates what emotion to use, or at least that’s how I like to think his minds works. “You…you would, ah gently caress, they told you that?” he stutters. “No. It was loving obvious. Are they still fingerin’ your bumhole, by any chance?” He went white and sank down in his chair looking at my feet. “Yeah, so, yeah… the gently caress was I supposed to do?” he said. I tap my wrist again with a humourless chuckle, making him smirk. “And you too mate, what of that?” he said. “I told ‘em nothing, for they already knew. No tales were told.” “They could have been.” “No, mate, no. If the filth had came back with a paper sayin’ I’m off to Benidorm if they liked me story, I would say nothin’. For I would know my old mate had stayed loyal and true.” I lied. “Nah, gently caress off with it,” he said, shaking his head in amusement, causing me to once again reassess if he were an idiot or not. “and the filth don’t bother with me since you went inside. I didn’t exactly get the gear back.” he said. That seemed good enough. “Well, you owe me. I can get gear, and business will resume.” I said. “Where?” “I have found a new friend, who has introduced me to a gent named Nikos Kostopoulos.” I announced proudly. “Smashos Kneecapos? You met him? gently caress me, lad, that’s big.” “And we best not gently caress about with it, and don’t let him hear you calling him that.” I said. “So, when’s this meet?” “When you put some fuckin’ clothes on, you own more than underpants and a hoodie?” “gently caress, righto, I’ll get dressed, give it a minute.” Dave got up and stormed upstairs to the bedroom. I looked around and wandered over to his computer and chair. I lifted the cushion to see what he planned to shoot me with and broke into a laugh, soon laughing so hard I was in tears as the full absurdity of it all hit home. Dave’s black fleshlight sat there on his chair gleaming of sin in the dim light, and I put back the cushion, bumping the desk and bringing his monitor to life. HOT LESBIAN ACTION dotcom flickered in full HD and I felt some relief it weren’t something else. I turn around and there’s Dave’s standing behind me. I flicked the cushion away, laughing helplessly. “At least it’s not a fuckin’ vibrator.” he said. “You were gonna beat me to death with that, were you mate?” “I fuckin’ will if you say a word of it,” he said, “and Smashos, he don’t know about our little misunderstanding?” “He will if you fuckin’ dog us again.” “Nah, it’s all good.” And so it was for a time, even though things weren’t the same, but will probably end the same, because like Dave, I’m an idiot at heart.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 18, 2024 02:23
|
|
|
In. with all the flashes cause i don't think I ever asked for one before.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 27, 2024 03:06
|
|
|
mooooved
Fat Jesus fucked around with this message at 08:01 on Mar 12, 2024 |
|
#
¿
Mar 3, 2024 12:36
|
|
|
Ceighk posted:Sign ups closed I guess but if anyone wants to last minute enter today I'm not gonna stop you Ok then, since I got nothing to do all day. In.
|
|
#
¿
Mar 17, 2024 00:48
|
|
|
Week 606 - Cool Forest bro Sigils and Runes 1400 words Winter came harsh upon the woods as the farmland grew snow and the river froze. A small stone cottage leaning between two split log barns lay at the edge of the naked trees that spread beyond, the only life a girl who struggled against wind and snow, plodding through mud to the cottage door. She shut the door to the kitchen heaving two pails of milk, then ran up to the blazing oven to rid the chill from her bones as her mother turned to her, holding a skinned duck like a threat to the wayward child. “Where’s the wood? Lazy girl, go get your father as well. I thought you liked it outside?” She chopped the duck, threw a bit to the cat and pointed to the door. The girl marched back out into the cold, finding herself watching her father rake manure from the stalls. Noticing his daughter, he put down his rake and sat by her, giving her a hug with one arm. “It will pass, let her bang her pots, pay it no mind. At least she didn’t beat you,” he said, “We thought you dead.” “I know. Why doesn’t she believe me? I heard the call of spring and had to see, I ran not because I do not love her, or you.” “In her heart she does believe, truly. But she cannot bear to lose you to the forest.” He pinched her cheek, causing her to frown. “You must stay here, ignore these voices, no good can come of it.” “They won’t hurt me, papa. But mama might if I don’t get her that wood.” She bounded up and wandered to the woodpile to avoid the questions she could not answer, as he sighed and went to help, determined to try again to learn more of this mysterious world his daughter had found, and never did. Not that night, nor that winter as the land slept, and its magic waned, for it had faded from her also like leaves from dormant wood. She could not remember the time she’d run away, she would say. So that was that, but still his wife raged. “How did she survive out there, lost and alone, for eight months? A girl of twelve and not a scratch on her? There are bad things there.” His wife would search for answers, and he’d say nothing, for he had nothing, aside from the certainty that only the cold she could not yet endure had brought her back to them. They would hold each other in the dark, wondering what was to come at winter’s end. And as the days grew longer, and word of the returned girl ruminated through the village with superstition, their troubles grew. “They will burn her as a witch if things get out of hand, we must let her go. The shaman warned us the first time.” he said. “She is no ordinary child, to hunt and climb better than any man.” The woman could only nod as if there were any choice, the old blind man’s words from the year before tormenting her - She is no longer yours, the gods have called her… ~ The land awoke as spring melted ice and snow, and now the girl could hear and see the wild magic outside of her dreams, the sun’s return spouting buds and leaves to again speak her name. Come see, it would say, full of promise. Unable to resist the call, she went out the window dressed in skins that second night of spring, just as the river broke free of the ice and tumbled roaring to the fjord below. She ran and ran, the wild magic leading her on mile after mile. She followed it’s shining path, leading her safely past wolf and bear, over hills and wonderful vales with mounds and caves with their witches and after-walkers and unseen things, and she sang to the beasts, and creatures of darkness, soothing their anger or making them flee as her song bent their will. Skipping along and climbing trees she named the plants, the insects and animals, the fungi and fern and seed and moss as the forest praised the girl, and joined her songs, and kept her fed. She went to find her friends. She wound through the giant firs to the lakes above and found her way back to the druids with ease. The three welcomed her return, giving her a hunting bow of sacred yew after teaching of the Winter’s song, and of the warmth within the cold she would need to endure its chill. They gave her a bitter tea, and she drank it and she left them, climbing the gate of dawn to the golden lady of her dreams. ~ A golden hand stroked the girl’s hair. She gazed with wonder at the Valkyrie that placed her on the ground, and stood casting an aura of light, beautiful and great. “I understand the seasons now, and why I was sent away.” The girl said, thinking the golden woman the voice among the trees. “I will master winter when it returns.” “You will learn in time.” The girl heard the voice was not the forest, but one of authority that rang through her and stuck there with wonder. “You are Aesir born as am I, but the Tuatha Dé of the forest claim you as their own, to pay a debt. You must find the Sirens, the sisters who serve the Host in their eternal glade.” The girl could only shake her head. “What have I done to be traded by our god, like a goat?” She gazed at the golden warrior in disbelief, at her spear and sword and golden hair, the Valkyrie’s fire eyes reflected in her own, hard with anger. “You must choose, the sigils, or the runes.” The Valkyrie took her hand, and showed her the falls above her village, and its secret path, it’s key her song. It faded back away. “Why must I choose, to settle the debts of gods?” the girl was no fool, which made the Valkyrie smile. “I am but His thrall, and His will… Choose the runes, and you must leave the forests, for the wild magic will be gone from you, but you will gain the Sight, and the Crows, to guide Odin’s men across the seas... Choose the sigils, and you may stay, as Maiden of the Wood, to serve nature and the Host.” “The forest was promised to me.” “Not by us, the forests are not ours to give. Choose, before winter comes again, lest you have neither.” The Valkyrie knew the girl’s choice was already made and raised the spear, grew into light and faded away as the girl cursed and protested the god's betrayal, falling helpless into troubled sleep, her dream haunted by the departing song of war. ~ She had awoken by the stones, the druids gone, camping sullenly a few days hunting deer and catching fish, awaiting their return. They appeared after some days and listened to her tale of the dream with alarm. “They can’t make me choose such a thing.” She insisted. “I do not want to go beyond the seas, or serve this Host.” “No. But they can take the magic, and without it, you are but food for wolf or bear.” said the Grey. “The Host’s sigils will give you the power over the forest creatures, fair or foul, far beyond what you have now, for always.” said the Broken. “The gods are fickle, and their debts are many. They give you reason to take the forest, it’s gifts, and do not the runes lie here, in your domain to come?” said the Wise. She understood. Urging her to see, they set her on her way to Spring Fall cave and over the days she wandered, the ringing of the birds joining her forlorn melodies. The weeks went on as her strength and magic flourished and her courage grew, finally arriving at the cave with a setting sun. She sat by her fire singing to the stars above a crown of leaves. Then she went and sang to the ravine, and walked across the trail that appeared from mist, into the Forest of Blue, to the Sirens, and to her choice to betray in turn, to take the sigils, hide their runes, and free herself and nature from all gods.
|
|
#
¿
Mar 18, 2024 05:02
|
|
|
Strange Cares posted:I'm sorry, I have no idea what the prompt is here. Can someone translate this? same
|
|
#
¿
Apr 3, 2024 01:10
|
|
|
IN https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=953PkxFNiko
|
|
#
¿
Apr 24, 2024 00:53
|
|
|
Quiet Feet posted:Aaaand signup now officially over! So I'm not allowed to enter? Ok lol.
|
|
#
¿
Apr 28, 2024 07:46
|
|
|
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=953PkxFNiko Quite a Pickle 1184 words I was dragging him by his feet when one of his boots came loose and I found myself sitting on my rear end in the mud and saw that tattoo on his bloated blue and cold fat gut and started laughing like a crazy man. Well I might be, but that tattoo. I’d forgotten it since I hadn’t seen the bastard without a shirt since before the mine shut down, or even high school when we still had one. I Don’t Believe in Friends it says, the words arrayed around what’s supposed to be an heart with a knife through it. Folk out here had some bad tatts, but this took the cake no matter how fitting it was now. You dumb gently caress I tell him between laughing and huffing for breath as I got up and started hauling him down the yard once more. Steal my fuckin’ shoes will you I mutter and curse, looking back to see I’d moved him all of 20 yards, this just aint working. Too heavy, twice my size. Maybe go get the chainsaw I’m thinking then remember I sold it last time I got the shakes. Maybe roll him? Yeah that don’t work. I got to get him in the ground before he starts to smell. But not here in my backyard. Where the hell was I taking him anyway, this sure could have been planned better but then again it weren’t my plan to kill the son of a bitch. I start laughing again thinking when I done it I were saying I didn’t know my own strength, hitting him that hard that his brain’s showing which was a surprise, both him havin’ one and it now saying howdydo, and now finding I wish I were even stronger. Quite a pickle. So I start digging telling myself this is a good place after all. I like digging, it’s mindless work and feels good to move again since I aint worked awhile and before you know it I got him planted five feet down, and went to get rid of his truck parked at the bottom of the holler near Mrs Wendy’s who won’t be a problem since she’s 90 or something and blind. So I get in and the keys aint there or under the visor so I’m yelling then shut up remembering what’s going on, looking around to see if any lights came on but none do. Guess I’ll be headin’ back, I tell the night. Quite a pickle. By the time I got the keys from his hip pocket and had the fat bastard planted again it were nearing dawn so I sat by him to watch since I loved watching the sun rise and set then I remember I had a plan and things to do. This time I took the bat with me to the truck and Mrs Wendy’s lights were on, goddamn that woman she’s a nosy one, but I recall she’s blind now from that bad shine and laughed as I got in and started his truck and drat if his muffler had a hole or what it’s gonna wake the dead, and I laugh looking in the rear view like the dead bastard is gonna be chasing after his stolen rust and that really cracked me up so bad I near lost it on the curve out of the holler and had to stop and get my pipe blazing some. Better, much better, he had some good rocks on him at least, not that he were giving it over at the time with me owing him from the last time and I swear he has getting paid back but he weren’t having it and picked up my shoes like they’re for touching by any feet but mine, that’s what set me off not the shakes. It’s light now and I’m roaring and clanking down the road a mile from town and and sure enough blue lights start flashing behind, no siren so I pull over, nothing for it, though I know there’s a loaded glock between the seat where the fat son of a bitch left it. The deputy comes to the window and I see it’s Billy Ray, a good boy from the holler and I wind down the window and say, I done a bad thing, Billy. Say what, he says, what you doin’ in Rambler’s truck Aloysius? Nobody calls me that only these boys when they wear their uniforms, like it turns them into something else and they forget who’s side they’re on or something. He had some mischief, I says. You best get on out Aloysius you been tweakin’? Yes sir, I say, and get on out tellin’ him there be a gun under the seat. Is that right?, he says and leans in to get it and I take my bat out from the truck’s bed and he comes up with the glock held between his thumb and finger like it’s something bad, and I hit hit him over the head even harder than I hit Rambler and he went down. His brain stayed inside but there’s a big old dent right down the middle like the part on his hair. It was funny the way he looked at me and I giggled like a kid. Quite a pickle I’m in. Why the hell did I do that? Well nothing’ for it. I shoulder my bat and start walking home the short way through the woods. I were asleep that afternoon when the sheriff himself showed up with deputies Jim Boyd and Wallace Smith and they got to asking questions about Rambler and where he might be and I said I thought he were outside and they just looked at me and Jim says, he’s tweaked to the gills, and Wallace Smith and the sheriff just nodded at me stern and soon had me back in a room at the station. Quite a pickle. What’s this about, I ask like I don’t know. Deputy Billy Ray Collis were found dead by Rambler’s truck, the sheriff says, you seen that boy? No sir, I say, not since the day afore. You know where he might be? No sir, but he was always talkin’ about Mexico. Mexico you say? Yes sir. Well drat. You boys sure he killed Billy Ray? Sure as poo poo. I aint. He’s your buddy, we understand, Aloysius. Don’t you cover for him or it’ll be the worse for you. Billy Ray were from my holler, wish I could help you boys. They just nod and open the door. You go get and stay off that poo poo you hear? I’ll do my solemn best, sheriff. I got up and walked out and found the street and stopped by the drugstore and looked at my shoes in the reflection and smiled. I took them off and tied them together and slung them around my neck to keep that shine and started walking back to the holler in my bare feet to tell Rambler he’s in Mexico because he done killed Billy Ray, stupid son of a bitch.
|
|
#
¿
Apr 29, 2024 06:02
|
|
|
In like Flynn
|
|
#
¿
May 9, 2024 01:17
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ May 14, 2024 16:54 |
|
|
Small Rabbit, Big Sound 1314 words Lil’ Bun checked himself in the mirror one last time. His floppy ears, dyed white with faux diamond earrings, looked good against his otherwise sleek brown fur. His new waistcoat was looking sharp, his bare chest peeking out with a dozen faux gold chains. He gave himself a nod and headed out of his bedroom when Mama blocked his way, and he gave a sigh. “Lamarr Rabbit, where do you think you're going, boy?” She demanded. “The club.” he said, “Tonight’s my night.” He tried to stare her down and failed. “The hell you done to your ears? I swear, boy, this hippity hop nonsense will be the death of us all. And that waistcoat!” She stood there, paws on big hips, sneering in disgust. Lil’ Bun tried to move past to the door but she easily pushed him back. “Mama, I got a life, the boys be waitin’ and my waistcoat be fine.” He reached past her for the door and she gave way with a roll of her eyes. “Fine? That be gaudy. Well, you go get yourself in mischief, all you’re drat good for. I did my best, working sunup to sundown to raise three boys on my own, and lawd, I guess one’s gotta be a messup!” Lil’ Bun had heard it all before. He loved his Mama, but she was seriously cramping his style. He knew that if tonight went well, a recording contract with Dr Deer might just appear, and he would be able to afford his own crib. And real diamonds and gold, and lots of tail. So much fine tail. And no more digging vegetables to survive. ~ Outside the club, young woodland animals were gathered all about taking final snorts and drinks in a haze of kindbud smoke, rowdy and wearing waistcoats that would give their mamas' fits. Their loud voices almost drowned out the wicked beats coming from inside the giant hollow oak. Big Nutz was looking around making sure the East Woods Boyz weren’t packing, and he could see them eyeing him and his crew for the same. Big Nutz bro fisted Lil’ Bun when he hopped up and passed him a bottle of Hennessy. “Yo, Nutz, poo poo be jumpin’. We all set?” Lil’ Bun followed the fat squirrel’s eyes. “Truce still holdin’?” “For now. Them bitches look surly, watch your back. Blue waistcoats left, red on the right, orders of Dr Deer, we best abide. His club, his rules.” “Word. Let’s get inside…oh look bro, he's here!” Lil’ Bun motioned with his chin to a pig in a red vest and bandanna. Piggie. His adversary looked over and their eyes met across the crowd. Lil’ Bun tried not to blink as Piggie nodded and sneered before heading inside. It was time. Lil’ Bun steeled his nerves and followed Big Nutz and crew towards the doormen. The three Wolf brothers nodded as they went in, and they found tables and admired passing tail, between staring hard at the red waistcoats on the other side who did the same. Suddenly the music stopped and all looked to the stage. Dr Deer took up the mic. “Tonight we settle the beef ‘tween West Wood Crew and East Woods Boyz. First to stutter, flutter or mutter loses bigly. So! From the east, the renowned Piggie Balls. From the west, a new playa, Lil’ Bun!” Dr Deer put back the mic and trotted to his table, face inscrutable behind black sunglasses as whoops and hollers flooded Lil’ Bun’s senses. Big Nutz slapped Lil’ Bun on the back as he got up. “You got this.” On stage, Lil’ Bun looked across the vast crowd and took a deep breath as the beats started, and Piggie grabbed the mic. Lil’ Bun folded his arms and scowled at him as he started his rap. Yo, check it, it's Piggie Full custom oink oink sound In the sty, bitches all around This boy here, whats his name? Lamarr Rabbit, He aint found fame Only fail, that's why he gets no tail! Shouts and whoops and oohs came from the right, but Lil’ Bun stood unfazed. Piggie swung the mic around and slammed it back into the stand. Lil’ Bun marched forward to take it as his beats came on. Oh Piggie Pig, don’t you see? You’re fat n’ wide, poo poo no waistcoat can hide My waistcoat fits like a fiddle Yours just looks sad ‘n little!” Louder whoops and laughter filled Lil’ Bun’s bravado even more, as he dropped the mic from one paw to the other before slamming it back, and stood once again defiant. The beats changed and grew louder with the crowd. Piggie grabbed the mic with a frown. Yo, stupid rabbit thinks he’s bold He just aint been told Piggie rolls with three fine bitches Bunny boy here, he diggin’ ditches!” The crowd went wild. Shouts of sikes! and lawdy! filled the smokey haze thick as the beats Big Nutz had mixed as they came on. Lil’ Bun stood unmoved and wagged a finger to the crowd. He took it up. Yo, listen up and hear this rhythm I’m Lil’ Bun and that boy’s swine He rolls in mud and thinks everything’s jus’ fine But He can’t run, he can’t hide Farmer’s gonna take more than his pride, gonna take his hide, crucified He’ll be a football, a thing he can’t abide, and I’ll be in my ride Cadillac, big and black, leave you with a broken back Oh, Piggie pig, don’t you see? All them bitches will soon belong to me Tails twerkin’, workin’, so fine, all mine, gettin’ it all the time In the club every night, til first light, kindbud burnin’ bright Playas left and right bowin’ down Lil’ Bun, the new king in town Waistcoat by Versace, Armani, Gucci, it matters none Cause you’re done Crucified, no hide, found out too late your mama lied I’ll think of you when rollin’ in sugar ‘n spice You with rats ‘n mice, bacon cold as ice Sweat ran down Lil’ Bun as the crowd went louder than it had ever been. He looked from face to furry face and smiled. He could see Dr Deer nodding with approval and the East Woods Boyz looking to each other, paws and hooves on faces in shock at Lil’ Bun’s comprehensive diss. He walked up to Piggie and offered the mic. Piggie took the mic, beady eyes looking with murder at Lil’ Bun, who just folded his arms and waited. Piggie tried to begin. “This rabbit…” Piggie gulped, “He...he’s..” Dr Deer stood up, shouting LOSS as Big Nutz lifted Lil’ Bun’s arm. Piggie Balls had stuttered. Or muttered, maybe even fluttered, or all three at once, depending on who told the story of the greatest rap battle to ever to go down in the wood, not since Weezy Witch vanquished the late Grizzly B. Red waistcoats made for the door as the crowd chanted Lil’ Bun’s name, while Dr Deer welcomed Lil’ Bun to his table with open arms and a golden smile. ~ Mama Rabbit cried and fussed as Lil’ Bun packed for his new crib. The new TV and oven he had bought her, along with paying off her burrow, had made her proud of him at last. “Now, Lamarr, you take care now, and… I heard that song of yours on the radio. I am concerned at your language, and… talking of ladies like that.” “Oh mama, it’s like…art, yeah, art, don’t mean I’m a pimp or… anything.” “Yeah, Mrs Rabbit, people just be talkin’ poo poo they don’t mean.” Big Nutz added helpfully. “Is that right? Well I don’t want to hear no more hippity hop art around here. You boys take care now. You watch him, Norman.” “I got his back, Mrs Rabbit.” said Big Nutz, patting the slingshot in his waistcoat pocket.
|
|
#
¿
May 11, 2024 09:49
|
|