Jason whipped of his glasses as his eyes adjusted to the dark store, and then put them back on because they were prescription. “What’s up?”
“Guy got robbed,” Leigh said absently, without looking up from his pad.
“Huh.” Jason looked around. He nudged an overturned rack with his toe and it made a ‘moo’ sound. “Got everything but the air freshener and the Mounds, eh?”
“Yes,” said the owner. “Your friend is doing a sketch, but I don’t think we need a writer.”
Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
A team of mice moved across the floor. They were dragging a trebuchet. No one noticed.
“Y’know said Leigh. “He’s been doing kung-fu for forever. He could probably beat the snot out of them.”
“Really?” said the owner. “Maybe you could help me out after the sketch is done?”
“Depends,” said Jason. “Are they ninjas?”
The owner considered this. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, I only really fight ninjas.” Jason explained. “I get +3 against ‘em. They’re my ‘preferred enemy.’”
“Why?”
“A ninja pantsed him in high school,” Leigh chimed in.
Jason turned to his friend. “Must you tell everyone?”
Leigh nodded. “I must.” He rose and held out his pad. “Sketch’s done.”
The owner took and looked down. Then looked up again. And then looked down. After a few more volleys, he cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to complain, but this is a picture of a scantily clad woman-“
“Efl,” Leigh interrupted.
“Elf,” continued the owner. “With a spear.”
“I started on your description, but it was boring so I did the elf instead.”
Jason leaned over to get a look at the pad. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
“Ummm, thanks?” said the owner.
“No thanks are necessary,” said Leigh, mainly so he could say 'thanks' too.
“We’re nerds,” added Jason. “It’s what we do.”
The duo waited for a moment, glancing around at the wrecked convenience store. “So,” said Leigh finally. “Could we get twenty on pump #2?” He held out a bill.
The owner took it without a word and punched something into the pad. “All set.”
A few minutes later, the silver Honda pulled out of the convenience store. The banjo continued its mournful song, until the Honda was out of sight.
Cheers,
-Jason
Showing posts with label Jason. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jason. Show all posts
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Adventures of Leigh and Jason: Part 2
The man at the counter looked up from where he was cleaning up the glass from his smashed counter. “Are you here about the robbery?”
“Robbery?”
“Yeah.” The proprietor gestured at his store. Most of the racks were knocked over and the various goods had been swept from the shelves. Only a lone, pine-scented car freshener remained, impotent in its ‘stay fresh’ pouch, a box of Almond Joys. “We were hit about an hour ago. They took everything!”
“Except the pine-scented car freshener and the Almond Joys.”
“Uh, yeah," said the owner, "he said they were allergic.” He turned to dump a pan full of broken glass into the nearby trashcan. “So, are you here to help?”
Leigh paused, scratching at his ear with a car key he kept on hand for that very purpose. “I suppose I could do a sketch.”
“Well, that would help identify them,” said the owner.
“I’ll get my pad,” said Leigh. He returned 83-seconds later, settled onto a stool and took his pencil in hand. “Go ahead.”
“The first one was about 6 feet, with long blond hair and the second one was a bit shorter and had short, dark hair. They were wearing jeans, plaid shirts and baseball caps. Oh, and the blond one had a giant Johnny Cash tattoo on his back and the shorter one seemed very knowledgeable about the Monroe Doctrine."
Leigh raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “This’ll take a minute.” He bent over his sketch pad and aside from the occasional scream from out back, the store was silent.
“Are we getting gas or what?” came a new voice. Both Leigh and the owner looked up, to see a new figure in the doorway. He was wearing a Nike hoodie, with bits of toilet paper stuck to his freshly shaved face. “Oh, wait,” he said. He struck a pose, arms akimbo. “Jason Janicki,” he said. “Writer.”
Tomorrow: Part 3
“Robbery?”
“Yeah.” The proprietor gestured at his store. Most of the racks were knocked over and the various goods had been swept from the shelves. Only a lone, pine-scented car freshener remained, impotent in its ‘stay fresh’ pouch, a box of Almond Joys. “We were hit about an hour ago. They took everything!”
“Except the pine-scented car freshener and the Almond Joys.”
“Uh, yeah," said the owner, "he said they were allergic.” He turned to dump a pan full of broken glass into the nearby trashcan. “So, are you here to help?”
Leigh paused, scratching at his ear with a car key he kept on hand for that very purpose. “I suppose I could do a sketch.”
“Well, that would help identify them,” said the owner.
“I’ll get my pad,” said Leigh. He returned 83-seconds later, settled onto a stool and took his pencil in hand. “Go ahead.”
“The first one was about 6 feet, with long blond hair and the second one was a bit shorter and had short, dark hair. They were wearing jeans, plaid shirts and baseball caps. Oh, and the blond one had a giant Johnny Cash tattoo on his back and the shorter one seemed very knowledgeable about the Monroe Doctrine."
Leigh raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “This’ll take a minute.” He bent over his sketch pad and aside from the occasional scream from out back, the store was silent.
“Are we getting gas or what?” came a new voice. Both Leigh and the owner looked up, to see a new figure in the doorway. He was wearing a Nike hoodie, with bits of toilet paper stuck to his freshly shaved face. “Oh, wait,” he said. He struck a pose, arms akimbo. “Jason Janicki,” he said. “Writer.”
Tomorrow: Part 3
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Adventures of Leigh and Jason: Part 1
A silver Honda headed south down the highway, the sun gleaming off the bits that weren’t covered in dust and grime. A bullet-riddled sign appeared, proclaiming ‘Gas – Food – Mimes – 5 miles.’ The silver Honda sped onward.
A small gas station/convenience store appeared on the horizon, dominated by a giant, neon turtle smoking a cigar. The silver Honda slowed and took the exit, barely missing a duck, and then drove up to the convenience store and stopped beside a pump.
The doors opened and in the distance, a lone banjo suddenly began plucking a mournful tune that sounded like ‘Shave and a Haircut.’ It was joined a few seconds later by a harmonica. The banjo music abruptly stopped, there was a gunshot, and the harmonica fell silent. The banjo began to play once again.
The doors opened and a pair of hiking boots descended from the passenger side, while a pair of engineer’s boots exited from the driver’s seat. A pair of stiletto heels did not exit from the trunk, though that would have been cool. The driver, a man of medium height with a thick beard and glasses walked to the entrance of the convenience store, ignoring the door that was lying on the ground beside it. He paused in the doorway, framed in the light of the noonday sun. “Leigh Kellogg,” he said. “Artist.”
Tomorrow: Part 2
A small gas station/convenience store appeared on the horizon, dominated by a giant, neon turtle smoking a cigar. The silver Honda slowed and took the exit, barely missing a duck, and then drove up to the convenience store and stopped beside a pump.
The doors opened and in the distance, a lone banjo suddenly began plucking a mournful tune that sounded like ‘Shave and a Haircut.’ It was joined a few seconds later by a harmonica. The banjo music abruptly stopped, there was a gunshot, and the harmonica fell silent. The banjo began to play once again.
The doors opened and a pair of hiking boots descended from the passenger side, while a pair of engineer’s boots exited from the driver’s seat. A pair of stiletto heels did not exit from the trunk, though that would have been cool. The driver, a man of medium height with a thick beard and glasses walked to the entrance of the convenience store, ignoring the door that was lying on the ground beside it. He paused in the doorway, framed in the light of the noonday sun. “Leigh Kellogg,” he said. “Artist.”
Tomorrow: Part 2
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