Even though we're so close to the end of Lord Derby's little escapade, I think you're far enough behind on comments that I can use this prompt for characters more suited to it without frustrating you when you reach here :)
A fool's errand "This reminds me of that time I was-" "-in prison? It's the bars, they do that." "No, actually. I was going to -- wait, were we ever in prison?" "Not as such, though we did make it through about three-quarters of the ruined prison on that island off the coast of Guinea-Bissau." "The one that started flooding?" "No, that wasn't a prison, that was what was left of a five-star hotel after an earthquake. The prison was the one that turned out to be an ape refuge." "White apes?" "Yes, although you might be thinking of one of your exes." "Hah. None of them have been that hairy, thank-you." "I was thinking of Bovrilia." "You mean Olivia?" "Possibly. She was hairy and smelled of Bovril." "Oh... she'd just had an unfortunate reaction to her perfume." "All of your girlfriends have been unfortunate, one way or another." "This reminds me of that South African fast food place is what I was going to say, thank-you." Ben looked around the room. There was a short counter where you placed your orders and received your food, and instead of being open it was subdivided like bank teller windows, separated between customer and work-drone by bullet-proof glass, and there were bars at the ceiling and floors that strongly hinted that they ran through the divider, reinforcing it. "Oh yes," he said. "Jo'burg? I think we were picking flowers that time." "Flowers?" The henchling, who was assembling a cutting torch from a beige hessian sack on the floor looked up. Listening to Bill and Ben reminisce was almost worth the regular they found themselves in, and the pay made up for the rest. "Sunflowers," said Bill. "Van Gogh's, to be precise. The original hasn't been out of private hands since Picasso got shanked." "Picasso got shanked?" The henchling's hands faltered and they stopped what they were doing, staring at Bill like he'd admitted to doing it himself. "Not much talked about in the history books," said Ben. "Just like the real reasons for Van Gogh cutting an ear off are covered up. Hurry up with that torch, will you? This place is still technically a business and we need to be out before the security guard comes round." The henchling began attaching the gas cylinders and checking the tubing. "People buy things here?" Bill looked around at the years-old dirt, the filthy floor, the broken chairs and mounds of rotting paper in the corners. "Very popular according to Lonely Planet," said Ben. "Best breakfast in a 20 mile radius." "Does everywhere else feed you your own fingers for breakfast then?" "Haha -- wait, didn't you have a-" "Shut. Up."
The door at the back was too small for anyone save a monkey or child, or possibly a henchling tied up like a kidnapping victim, greased up with butter and pushed through by two determined gentlemen thieves, and the cutting torch took 15 minutes to get through the locks and bolts, even with the special gas mixture. When the henchling finally slipped inside with a hollow pop sounds Bill wiped his hands on a soft blue hand-towel brought for this purpose. "What happens if it's not there?" he said. "Then this has been a fool's errand," said Ben. "But I'm pretty sure it's there." "How do we get hench out again?" "They pass the rope through and we pull," said Ben. "I hope the butter hasn't rubbed off too much."
2 comments:
Even though we're so close to the end of Lord Derby's little escapade, I think you're far enough behind on comments that I can use this prompt for characters more suited to it without frustrating you when you reach here :)
A fool's errand
"This reminds me of that time I was-"
"-in prison? It's the bars, they do that."
"No, actually. I was going to -- wait, were we ever in prison?"
"Not as such, though we did make it through about three-quarters of the ruined prison on that island off the coast of Guinea-Bissau."
"The one that started flooding?"
"No, that wasn't a prison, that was what was left of a five-star hotel after an earthquake. The prison was the one that turned out to be an ape refuge."
"White apes?"
"Yes, although you might be thinking of one of your exes."
"Hah. None of them have been that hairy, thank-you."
"I was thinking of Bovrilia."
"You mean Olivia?"
"Possibly. She was hairy and smelled of Bovril."
"Oh... she'd just had an unfortunate reaction to her perfume."
"All of your girlfriends have been unfortunate, one way or another."
"This reminds me of that South African fast food place is what I was going to say, thank-you."
Ben looked around the room. There was a short counter where you placed your orders and received your food, and instead of being open it was subdivided like bank teller windows, separated between customer and work-drone by bullet-proof glass, and there were bars at the ceiling and floors that strongly hinted that they ran through the divider, reinforcing it.
"Oh yes," he said. "Jo'burg? I think we were picking flowers that time."
"Flowers?" The henchling, who was assembling a cutting torch from a beige hessian sack on the floor looked up. Listening to Bill and Ben reminisce was almost worth the regular they found themselves in, and the pay made up for the rest.
"Sunflowers," said Bill. "Van Gogh's, to be precise. The original hasn't been out of private hands since Picasso got shanked."
"Picasso got shanked?" The henchling's hands faltered and they stopped what they were doing, staring at Bill like he'd admitted to doing it himself.
"Not much talked about in the history books," said Ben. "Just like the real reasons for Van Gogh cutting an ear off are covered up. Hurry up with that torch, will you? This place is still technically a business and we need to be out before the security guard comes round."
The henchling began attaching the gas cylinders and checking the tubing.
"People buy things here?" Bill looked around at the years-old dirt, the filthy floor, the broken chairs and mounds of rotting paper in the corners.
"Very popular according to Lonely Planet," said Ben. "Best breakfast in a 20 mile radius."
"Does everywhere else feed you your own fingers for breakfast then?"
"Haha -- wait, didn't you have a-"
"Shut. Up."
The door at the back was too small for anyone save a monkey or child, or possibly a henchling tied up like a kidnapping victim, greased up with butter and pushed through by two determined gentlemen thieves, and the cutting torch took 15 minutes to get through the locks and bolts, even with the special gas mixture. When the henchling finally slipped inside with a hollow pop sounds Bill wiped his hands on a soft blue hand-towel brought for this purpose.
"What happens if it's not there?" he said.
"Then this has been a fool's errand," said Ben. "But I'm pretty sure it's there."
"How do we get hench out again?"
"They pass the rope through and we pull," said Ben. "I hope the butter hasn't rubbed off too much."
Greg - yup, that was a safe bet :)
Haha, also an enjoyable little detour to the world of Ben and Bill. So thank you for that :D
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