Post by Sadistic on Jul 22, 2014 23:27:40 GMT -5
There are certain things that one shouldn't take for granted in this world, your soul being one of them. See also: Bowel control.
William Ian Dillinger had never been accused of being the sentimental type, but a deep lungful of Bluegrass air almost made him jump out of his hair. Two plus years of incapacitation might do that.
“My old Kentucky home...”
Not long ago the sun dipped below the horizon, but there was still a strange hustle and bustle about the dirty streets of Hangtown. And why wouldn't there be? Dr. Tarkanian's Memory Elixir Traveling Medicine Show was still in town peddling his snake oils and some such.
The Hanging Tree loomed in the distance, a mighty, solid oak once used for...well, more than just shade. Hands in his pockets, Sadistic kicked pebbles down Wicker Street on his way to a planned meeting with his cohorts. 10:00 PM sharp at the Rowdy Dwarf, a shabby bar on the outskirts of town. As if the town weren't rowdy enough in current form. Why, just off to the side of the road huddled three filthy town-goers - all men, of course - boasting and wagering, prodding and jabbing one another over who would actually eat what appeared to be...
“A Chocolate Arion!” hollered a gruff voice from the group, not a Dollface among them.
Mmmm...chocolate? Not quite. Chocolate Arion is another name for Kentucky's red slug. And for a tidy sum, one of those unwashed men was going to slurp it down...if one of them could rustle the nerve.
“Five dollars!” cried one man as he took a pull from his whiskey bottle.
“Ha! Ten bucks says none of ya will,” challenged another.
Sadistic squinted in the dimness and - yep! - there it was. A GIN-U-WINE Kentucky red slug. Big, juicy, and pulsating, pinched between a grimy thumb and forefinger. Dollars continued to pile into the pot as the three drunkards continued to sweeten the deal. And then, in one serpentine motion, Sadistic snatched the specimen, sucked it down, and swiped the pile of cash without breaking stride!
Today's forecast: Clear skies with a 30% chance of stampede.
The three men could only stare, gape-mouthed. Sadistic continued down the stretch, the Rowdy Dwarf taunting him at the end of the street. Phinehas was probably already waiting patiently. After all, there were things...important things...that needed to be discussed. And that's when the Phenom bumped into...
“Dr. Tarkanian.” It wasn't a question. More a condemnation.
“Yes!” barked the portly galoot! His bowler hat did little to offset his monocle and sloppy bow tie. “Mr. Dillinger, you won't believe the wonders I've in store for you!”
Ever since Grimm's failed attempt at *ahem* salesmanship had resulted in the decimation of an entire village, the doctor and his wagon had become rather popular. Selling his vials of false hope, he was one of the few men in Hangtown with the gall to approach William unabated. It was a wonder the elder Dillinger tolerated such filth.
Like an experienced barker, the doctor didn't give Sadistic time to object. “Why, just the other day, I happened upon these...”
Unfolding a hand accented with stubby fingers, Tarkanian produced a dozen little, white tablets.
“Better Days Medicine, I call it,” he said with a prideful smirk. “And I'm only asking for the fair, fair price of...”
Before he could spit it out, Sadistic stuffed a wad of slug-cash into his breast pocket and snatched the pills from his dirty palm. See also: LSD. See also: Psychedelica.
“Excellent! Another satisfied customer.” Just like that, Dr. Tarkanian was on his way.
And so was the Phenom. He was on the verge of tardiness. Luckily, the Rowdy Dwarf was in sight. The rum was awful, but it was still rum! His eyes drifting into the clear Kentucky night, Sadistic couldn't help but think the number of Starrs in the swirling sky nothing short of Nsaniti. Oh, how he'd taken for granted the view of the cosmos from his backwoods nest. It was in this moment of admiration that William was set upon by a dastardly pack of youngins...
“Candy!” they demanded with a determination that rivaled Dr. Tarkanian's.
Resisting the urge to boot the nearest one in the chest, Sadistic's antifreeze eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Little bastards were too young to know any better. Moments later, Sadistic was on his way and the throng of nine- and ten-year-olds...well, they were on their way, too. Courtesy some of Tarkanian's Better Days Medicine...
Making haste, Sadistic stepped onto the wooden walkway in front of the Rowdy Dwarf and...
...Sadistic stopped in his tracks as a fully grown man burst through one of the glass windows! Landing hard amongst broken glass and shoddy framework, the man took a few seconds to shake the cobwebs loose. The man stood, blood forming around minor head wounds, and grabbed the wall to steady himself; whether it was the booze or the landing was debatable. William's lips split into a Cheshire grin, his canines gleaming in the night. Gaining his wherewithal, the man realized who stood before him.
The BoogeyMan?
And just like that...poof! Or more appropriately...
...the man dove back into the Rowdy Dwarf through a different window, cracking his head hard on one of the stained oak tables as he fell. He landed on the floor in an unconscious heap. How was that for a disappearing act?
Nathan Saniti, eat your heart out.
Entering the fine establishment, Sadistic immediately spotted his brother sitting in the corner resembling some sort of fiery Medusa. Where in the hell is Showtime, he wondered. There were things to be discussed. Important things. It wasn't like him to be late. Sadistic sat opposite his brother and checked the wall clock. It was a rowdy bunch tonight; hard-working country folk demanding full mugs and bellies. And why shouldn't they? Them, the wayward souls of Hangtown. Forever under the protective Dillinger spell.
Waiting on Michael Wryght, the Hangtown Horrors took to discussing their upcoming foes. An odd couple in the truest fashion. Would Sadistic hesitate to sink his teeth into Starr's beautiful Dollface? Probably not. Would Grimm be able to get his hands on the magician long enough to snap his back? Well, one could only hope.
While the mothers and fathers drowned their sorrows, the children's minds grew twisted. Fear not, ye Better Days Medicine patients: The effects are NOT permanent.
Nex Addo
Hangtown, Kentucky
July 22, 2014
9:45 PM
July 22, 2014
9:45 PM
William Ian Dillinger had never been accused of being the sentimental type, but a deep lungful of Bluegrass air almost made him jump out of his hair. Two plus years of incapacitation might do that.
“My old Kentucky home...”
Not long ago the sun dipped below the horizon, but there was still a strange hustle and bustle about the dirty streets of Hangtown. And why wouldn't there be? Dr. Tarkanian's Memory Elixir Traveling Medicine Show was still in town peddling his snake oils and some such.
The Hanging Tree loomed in the distance, a mighty, solid oak once used for...well, more than just shade. Hands in his pockets, Sadistic kicked pebbles down Wicker Street on his way to a planned meeting with his cohorts. 10:00 PM sharp at the Rowdy Dwarf, a shabby bar on the outskirts of town. As if the town weren't rowdy enough in current form. Why, just off to the side of the road huddled three filthy town-goers - all men, of course - boasting and wagering, prodding and jabbing one another over who would actually eat what appeared to be...
“A Chocolate Arion!” hollered a gruff voice from the group, not a Dollface among them.
Mmmm...chocolate? Not quite. Chocolate Arion is another name for Kentucky's red slug. And for a tidy sum, one of those unwashed men was going to slurp it down...if one of them could rustle the nerve.
“Five dollars!” cried one man as he took a pull from his whiskey bottle.
“Ha! Ten bucks says none of ya will,” challenged another.
Sadistic squinted in the dimness and - yep! - there it was. A GIN-U-WINE Kentucky red slug. Big, juicy, and pulsating, pinched between a grimy thumb and forefinger. Dollars continued to pile into the pot as the three drunkards continued to sweeten the deal. And then, in one serpentine motion, Sadistic snatched the specimen, sucked it down, and swiped the pile of cash without breaking stride!
Today's forecast: Clear skies with a 30% chance of stampede.
The three men could only stare, gape-mouthed. Sadistic continued down the stretch, the Rowdy Dwarf taunting him at the end of the street. Phinehas was probably already waiting patiently. After all, there were things...important things...that needed to be discussed. And that's when the Phenom bumped into...
“Dr. Tarkanian.” It wasn't a question. More a condemnation.
“Yes!” barked the portly galoot! His bowler hat did little to offset his monocle and sloppy bow tie. “Mr. Dillinger, you won't believe the wonders I've in store for you!”
Ever since Grimm's failed attempt at *ahem* salesmanship had resulted in the decimation of an entire village, the doctor and his wagon had become rather popular. Selling his vials of false hope, he was one of the few men in Hangtown with the gall to approach William unabated. It was a wonder the elder Dillinger tolerated such filth.
Like an experienced barker, the doctor didn't give Sadistic time to object. “Why, just the other day, I happened upon these...”
Unfolding a hand accented with stubby fingers, Tarkanian produced a dozen little, white tablets.
“Better Days Medicine, I call it,” he said with a prideful smirk. “And I'm only asking for the fair, fair price of...”
Before he could spit it out, Sadistic stuffed a wad of slug-cash into his breast pocket and snatched the pills from his dirty palm. See also: LSD. See also: Psychedelica.
“Excellent! Another satisfied customer.” Just like that, Dr. Tarkanian was on his way.
And so was the Phenom. He was on the verge of tardiness. Luckily, the Rowdy Dwarf was in sight. The rum was awful, but it was still rum! His eyes drifting into the clear Kentucky night, Sadistic couldn't help but think the number of Starrs in the swirling sky nothing short of Nsaniti. Oh, how he'd taken for granted the view of the cosmos from his backwoods nest. It was in this moment of admiration that William was set upon by a dastardly pack of youngins...
“Candy!” they demanded with a determination that rivaled Dr. Tarkanian's.
Resisting the urge to boot the nearest one in the chest, Sadistic's antifreeze eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Little bastards were too young to know any better. Moments later, Sadistic was on his way and the throng of nine- and ten-year-olds...well, they were on their way, too. Courtesy some of Tarkanian's Better Days Medicine...
Making haste, Sadistic stepped onto the wooden walkway in front of the Rowdy Dwarf and...
{CRASH!!!}
...Sadistic stopped in his tracks as a fully grown man burst through one of the glass windows! Landing hard amongst broken glass and shoddy framework, the man took a few seconds to shake the cobwebs loose. The man stood, blood forming around minor head wounds, and grabbed the wall to steady himself; whether it was the booze or the landing was debatable. William's lips split into a Cheshire grin, his canines gleaming in the night. Gaining his wherewithal, the man realized who stood before him.
The BoogeyMan?
And just like that...poof! Or more appropriately...
{CRASH!!!}
...the man dove back into the Rowdy Dwarf through a different window, cracking his head hard on one of the stained oak tables as he fell. He landed on the floor in an unconscious heap. How was that for a disappearing act?
Nathan Saniti, eat your heart out.
Entering the fine establishment, Sadistic immediately spotted his brother sitting in the corner resembling some sort of fiery Medusa. Where in the hell is Showtime, he wondered. There were things to be discussed. Important things. It wasn't like him to be late. Sadistic sat opposite his brother and checked the wall clock. It was a rowdy bunch tonight; hard-working country folk demanding full mugs and bellies. And why shouldn't they? Them, the wayward souls of Hangtown. Forever under the protective Dillinger spell.
Waiting on Michael Wryght, the Hangtown Horrors took to discussing their upcoming foes. An odd couple in the truest fashion. Would Sadistic hesitate to sink his teeth into Starr's beautiful Dollface? Probably not. Would Grimm be able to get his hands on the magician long enough to snap his back? Well, one could only hope.
While the mothers and fathers drowned their sorrows, the children's minds grew twisted. Fear not, ye Better Days Medicine patients: The effects are NOT permanent.
Nex Addo
