The exercise:
Today's prompt comes courtesy of g2: The Shadow knows.
Maniacal laugh not required, but recommended.
Mine:
Who left this scratch upon my nose? Did it come from a thorn on that red, red rose? Did it happen while I dozed? Has my security been exposed?
Only The Shadow knows.
Why do you walk as though there are egg shells beneath your toes? Why are you striking such a suspicious pose? Are we about to come to blows?
The Shadow knows.
Does anyone know where this goes? Why do you suppose I compose this rhyming prose?
Not even The Shadow knows.
Heh, I've always really enjoyed your rhyming prose, and you do it so well! Don't let the Shadow stop you. And I can just about hear the maniacal laughter throughout your piece until the final line, when everything goes deathly silent.
ReplyDeleteGood to hear that you're still recovering well, keep up the good work!
The Shadow knows
"Green?" Sylvestra's voice was carefully neutral. Nonetheless the Green Lightbulb looked defensive as he looked in her direction.
"What?" He'd taken to enunciating the normally-silent aitches, and his breathy question hung in the air like cheap perfume in a brothel.
"Green, is that a dog you've got there?"
"I bought a guard-doggle from another Supervillain," said Green. "She's a miniature Rottweiler."
"She's barely eight inches long, or high," said Sylvestra. The dog yipped plaintively and then squatted to wee on the carpet.
"She's called Ebola," said the Green Lightbulb. "She strikes fear into the heart of men!"
"The cleaning lady's going to strike you when she finds that puddle," said Sylvestra, wondering what word Green had meant where he'd used Ebola. "Which supervillain?"
"The Shadow!" The Green Lightbulb sounded extremely pleased with himself.
"The Shadow?" Dr. Septopus waddled into the room, his tentacles all carrying different coloured stuffed teddy-bears. "Didn't I hear he's been arrested for selling plague-dogs?"
Attack of the rhyming prose!! I love it when you do these, 'Loo, these are just fun.
ReplyDelete- The Shadow Knows -
Busing tables, I've found, is a great way to blend in. It's also a great way to pick up crucial bits of information, if you know how to do it.
Both of these are very important in my line of work.
I have to be careful when I find a lead: I can't linger, I have to pretend I'm not hearing anything and keep going with my work. I'm just part of the woodwork, I'm supposed to disappear, or at least become a regular enough feature to be ignored. Like a shadow, almost.
The best place to find good information, I've also found, is not in those high-class dining instituations. God, no, those're too quiet for juicy information to fly, and the patrons are flakier than ancient paint in a snowstorm. No, it's the seedier places that my kind of people frequent: those dingy, dark, smoky places with a lot of chatter. Just loud enough to veil covert conversation from those who aren't looking for it properly. Just dark enough for a shadow like myself to blend in easily.
It's particularly troublesome, though, when I find a lead near a corner table. They have a view of everything, they can survey the entire estate from one prime location.
They can spot a shadow when it moves on its own accord.
In my own defense, I wasn't as careful as I could've been, and it was such a good thread, too!
"... as soon as we get the go-ahead from T'relli..." I froze mid-wipe of the table next to me. Torrelli? Had to have been, only one who possessed infamy under that name. He was my latest assignment, and a tough one to nail down.
"...should come in two, three days from now, then we can set the rest in motion..."
I couldn't help but lean in a closer; so Torrelli was planning something big, was he? I snapped myself out of it, realizing I'd stopped wiping the table. I tried to make up for lost time, but I could feel eyes on my back. I tried to slip off, but a cough stopped me.
"Eh, busboy, c'mere a second."
Slowly I turned to the corner table, doing my level best not to curse under my breath. I looked to each of the three imposing figures squished into that corner table, studying each of the features carefully while not being to obvious about it.
"You like hearing about shipping schedules?" the one on the end asked. I said nothing. He looked to his two buddies, then rolled his eyes. "You look like the shipping type, boyo," he continued, gesturing to his companion on the opposite end, who nodded and stood up as my addresser returned his attention to me. "Look, why don't you sit yourself down and we can have a little talks about it." He stood up to pull over another chair.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I--"
"Nonsense, I insist!" he cried, motioning for me to sit down in the vacated spot and implying he would follow. Thug sandwich. Not what I needed at the moment.
"That's very kind of you, sir, but I really--"
"I said I insist," he repeated dangerously. Reluctantly I complied. I should know by now: when somebody insists, they really insist.
- - - - -
That was rather fun, good break from homework.
Greg - hah, I quite like the idea that the laughter stops on the final line :)
ReplyDeleteAnd well done on tying in Ebola, the Green Lightbulb, and The Shadow all in one go!
g2 - that was excellent! Hurry up and get that homework done so you can do more writing :)