WIP: The Problem We All Live With
Apr. 17th, 2010 11:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jasonandrewMy brain is on fire. I can't seem to stop writing. I'm enjoying it while I can.
I gave myself an hour as a reward to spend writing a Doctor Who fanfiction story.
And then I started on my Crooked Universe story. The Crooked universe is my crime/mystery universe I've been working on via my Thanes game.
The title comes from a Norman Rockwell painting that showcases the U.S. Marshals protecting black students in the south after the end of segregation.
“The Problem We All Live With”
by Jason Andrew
The old ford seemed to hit every pot hole, bump, and rock on Highway 2. The usual browns and yellows of Eastern Washington were white-washed with endless snow and occasional flashes of green from the evergreen trees. He kept an even speed to prevent any skids or slides. The driver pulled out a worn leather case from his jacket pocket and plucked a cigarette with one hand. He lit the cigeratte with the dashboard lighter, took a long drag and then passed it through the screen to the man in the large man in the back seat without a word.
“Thanks. That’s mighty white of ya.”
The thin man in the driver’s seat glanced in the rear view mirror and nodded to the hairy man in the back seat. He didn’t need to read the prisoner’s file to know everything about him. Everything was there tattooed on his skin. The women he’d loved. The friends he lost. The three men he killed. One with his bare hands. It was all there if you knew how to read the signs. This man was dangerous and if he had a mind to cause problem, this would be a long trip. “Think nothing of it.”
“What kind of name is Pozagai anyway?”
“Hungarian. My grand-father came over on a boat during World War II.”
The man in the back adjusted the hand-cuffs on his wrists. He wasn’t the sort that ever adjusted well to bars. “You mean like Dracula?”
“Transylvania.”
“What?”
“Dracula’s from Transylvania.” The man in the front seat adjusted his mirror to get a better view of the road. Not that he expected many travelers on the roads this time of the year. “And no, I’m not a vampire.”
“Nah, I’m not a mouth breather. Meant the guy that played him. What’s his name?”
“Bela Lugosi.” He kept careful watch on his prisoner. There was rarely a need to be rude without cause. A little kindness made the bitter pill of a trip to jail that much easier to swallow. That said, Pozsgai wanted to avoid any sort of double cross. “My grand-parents were real proud of him.”
“That’s good. Having someone you can be proud of. Helps turn a boy into a man.”
“What kind of name is Jimmy Sweets?”
“James Switowski.” There was a hint of pride in his voice. He wiped several strands of hair out of his eyes. “My Pop changed it after the war. Thought it sounded more white.”
“Don’t imagine it helped none.”
Sweets held his chin high. “Ain't many that would cross me.”
Pozsgai nodded fervently. “That is a fact.”
“Hey, we’re coming up on Steven’s Pass. Taking the scenic route, aren’t we.” Sweets pressed his face close to the screen. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to make a side trip. A little conjugal visit early?”
“And you’d get a slug between your eyes for the trouble.” There wasn’t malice in his voice. Pozagai just stated the facts. “Banditos put a bounty on your head. Ain’t no place safe but with us.”
“This little snow bunny won’t say a word. She’s got the greatest smile in the world, with just a hint of gap between his front teeth and an ass to die for.”
“You like the gap between the teeth?”
“Hells yeah! That way when she’s sucking me off, I can shoot between them and score a goal!”
Pozsgai gave the much appreciated pity laugh. “Best not to take the risk.”
“You look like a handsome man.” His voice turned deep, almost seductive. Definitely playful. “You ever been made love to by a three hundred pound man?”
He turned his attention to the rear view mirror once more. Through the mist and haze of the storm, he
spotted another truck with high beams. “We get caught by the Banditos and both of us might get that experience. Personally, some things are better off left to the imagination.”
I gave myself an hour as a reward to spend writing a Doctor Who fanfiction story.
And then I started on my Crooked Universe story. The Crooked universe is my crime/mystery universe I've been working on via my Thanes game.
The title comes from a Norman Rockwell painting that showcases the U.S. Marshals protecting black students in the south after the end of segregation.
“The Problem We All Live With”
by Jason Andrew
The old ford seemed to hit every pot hole, bump, and rock on Highway 2. The usual browns and yellows of Eastern Washington were white-washed with endless snow and occasional flashes of green from the evergreen trees. He kept an even speed to prevent any skids or slides. The driver pulled out a worn leather case from his jacket pocket and plucked a cigarette with one hand. He lit the cigeratte with the dashboard lighter, took a long drag and then passed it through the screen to the man in the large man in the back seat without a word.
“Thanks. That’s mighty white of ya.”
The thin man in the driver’s seat glanced in the rear view mirror and nodded to the hairy man in the back seat. He didn’t need to read the prisoner’s file to know everything about him. Everything was there tattooed on his skin. The women he’d loved. The friends he lost. The three men he killed. One with his bare hands. It was all there if you knew how to read the signs. This man was dangerous and if he had a mind to cause problem, this would be a long trip. “Think nothing of it.”
“What kind of name is Pozagai anyway?”
“Hungarian. My grand-father came over on a boat during World War II.”
The man in the back adjusted the hand-cuffs on his wrists. He wasn’t the sort that ever adjusted well to bars. “You mean like Dracula?”
“Transylvania.”
“What?”
“Dracula’s from Transylvania.” The man in the front seat adjusted his mirror to get a better view of the road. Not that he expected many travelers on the roads this time of the year. “And no, I’m not a vampire.”
“Nah, I’m not a mouth breather. Meant the guy that played him. What’s his name?”
“Bela Lugosi.” He kept careful watch on his prisoner. There was rarely a need to be rude without cause. A little kindness made the bitter pill of a trip to jail that much easier to swallow. That said, Pozsgai wanted to avoid any sort of double cross. “My grand-parents were real proud of him.”
“That’s good. Having someone you can be proud of. Helps turn a boy into a man.”
“What kind of name is Jimmy Sweets?”
“James Switowski.” There was a hint of pride in his voice. He wiped several strands of hair out of his eyes. “My Pop changed it after the war. Thought it sounded more white.”
“Don’t imagine it helped none.”
Sweets held his chin high. “Ain't many that would cross me.”
Pozsgai nodded fervently. “That is a fact.”
“Hey, we’re coming up on Steven’s Pass. Taking the scenic route, aren’t we.” Sweets pressed his face close to the screen. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to make a side trip. A little conjugal visit early?”
“And you’d get a slug between your eyes for the trouble.” There wasn’t malice in his voice. Pozagai just stated the facts. “Banditos put a bounty on your head. Ain’t no place safe but with us.”
“This little snow bunny won’t say a word. She’s got the greatest smile in the world, with just a hint of gap between his front teeth and an ass to die for.”
“You like the gap between the teeth?”
“Hells yeah! That way when she’s sucking me off, I can shoot between them and score a goal!”
Pozsgai gave the much appreciated pity laugh. “Best not to take the risk.”
“You look like a handsome man.” His voice turned deep, almost seductive. Definitely playful. “You ever been made love to by a three hundred pound man?”
He turned his attention to the rear view mirror once more. Through the mist and haze of the storm, he
spotted another truck with high beams. “We get caught by the Banditos and both of us might get that experience. Personally, some things are better off left to the imagination.”