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RetroGunslinger · 11-19-2008, 11:17 AM

Carpe diem.

The sound of taxis and enraged pedestrians filled Parker's ears. Hot dog vendors yelling at cats, cats yelling at dogs, and dogs chasing screeching cars. The outside breeze flowing through the planted trees that lined the trees, and small leaves crackling against his third story window. The smooth friction of sheets moving against sheets moving against Parker's smooth skin.

Sunlight was shedding itself over her bare face and back from the open window. Her eyes still closed, Parker imagined how wonderful it must be as the dust and the light playfully danced with each other, accenting their own appearances. Their reflection in the mirror opposite her bed would be her little gift of the day, followed by her always pleasing body lifting itself up from the lofty queen size mattress. It wasn't a crime to love yourself, and the feeling she felt whenever she saw her perfectly maintained physique was always something worth waiting to wake up to.

The sunlight was very hot now. That was different. Perhaps it was just her overzealous love of the day, but as Parker's skin went from delightfully warm to sizzling, the realization quickly dawned.

Parker opened her eyes. Her apartment was on fire.

Jumping up, Parker dashed across the room without batting an eye lash at the blazing fragments of the dresser's mirror, or the newly timbered work desk, or the once $2000 rug now turned to ashes. She reached the door almost immediately, and gave two seconds to read the note taped to the door:

Hey baby,
Thanks for the good time last night. Good to know you can still put out. Revenge sure does feel great, you narcissistic bitch.
--Robbie

"Asshole." Parker muttered, opening the door and running down the hall, to the elevator. Mrs. Crabshaw from the end of the hall had already left her room at the smell of the smoke, apparently the only aging druggie in the building with a sense of smell.

"Is that smoke?" She asked Parker as she zoomed past.

"Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am, it's fire ma'am, gotta go ma'am!" Parker started downstairs just as she finished the garbled sentence. The concrete steps cut at her feet, but the pain went unnoticed in her enraged, adrenaline-fueled state.

The Calle Paraiso Apartment Building was on fire. That sucked. Parker Frost was running away from the blaze naked. That sucked. She had been stood up and nearly murdered. That also really sucked. The day had not started to her liking, but that was OK. At least she was alive. And naked. Shit.

First stop: Belk. No, no wallet. First stop: Pawn shop. Please let there be a guy behind the counter, some ugly, disgusting, fat, strangely generous guy!

The day light was nasty, filtered by exhaust smoke and various ominous rain clouds. There was a dead cat in the street, mangled and run over, and the medical waste plant across the street appeared to be having a strike. A crowd of equally bored and enraged workers stood with picket signs outside the plant's gates, continuing their anti-establishment cheers despite the running by of a perfectly shaped young woman, de-clothed.

Parker ignored the insulting feeling and just ran past, scolding herself for even noticing such a thing at a time like this. There was a pawn shop on the street corner, right past an old fashioned toy store. Old fashioned toy store...

Oh well. Parker continued, past another apartment building--this one not on fire--and past the toy store. A twelve-year-old and his mother came out carrying three huge bags of toys and candy, only stopping to stare at the stark naked woman running past, cutting open her feet on the cold sidewalk. The boy cooed something about babies and milk, but Parker didn't stay to take joy in the filth of the moment. Time was not her friend.

Parker practically jumped into the pawn shop, scaring the old black man behind the counter.

"Oh thank GOD!" Park gasped, breathing heavily and taking in her surroundings. "Do... do you.... do you have any overalls?"

The old black man just stood there, mouth agape. He looked to have only three jutting teeth. An odd characteristic, for sure.

"In the back. Second row from the right."

Parker nodded her thanks, gave a curtsy, and ran to the back. Rows of clothes greeted her, with the second row to the right dedicated entirely to work clothes. She selected a pair of blue overalls, slipped them on, and walked back to the counter up front. The old black man was still there, bewildered.

"Um, sorry sir, but would you mind if I borrowed these for a day? I kind of have to come back by here, because my apartment is on fire, and I'll have to talk to the police about the rat bastard sociopathic ex-boyfriend who did it. I'll only be gone for a little while, just enough time to find him before he skips town or puts on a fake mustache or whatever it is rat bastard sociopathic ex-boyfriend do. You understand, yeah?"

He stood there for a moment, staring. Finally: "Sure. Go ahead."

"Thanks. I'll come buy a new mirror when I come back."

Parker ran out like she'd robbed the place, flying like a bat out of hell down the street to find her man. Her ex-man. Her... whatever.

11-19-2008, 11:17 AM	#2 (permalink)
RetroGunslinger eats puppies and shits rainbows Location: An Area of Space Occupied by a Population, SC, USA	Carpe diem. The sound of taxis and enraged pedestrians filled Parker's ears. Hot dog vendors yelling at cats, cats yelling at dogs, and dogs chasing screeching cars. The outside breeze flowing through the planted trees that lined the trees, and small leaves crackling against his third story window. The smooth friction of sheets moving against sheets moving against Parker's smooth skin. Sunlight was shedding itself over her bare face and back from the open window. Her eyes still closed, Parker imagined how wonderful it must be as the dust and the light playfully danced with each other, accenting their own appearances. Their reflection in the mirror opposite her bed would be her little gift of the day, followed by her always pleasing body lifting itself up from the lofty queen size mattress. It wasn't a crime to love yourself, and the feeling she felt whenever she saw her perfectly maintained physique was always something worth waiting to wake up to. The sunlight was very hot now. That was different. Perhaps it was just her overzealous love of the day, but as Parker's skin went from delightfully warm to sizzling, the realization quickly dawned. Parker opened her eyes. Her apartment was on fire. Jumping up, Parker dashed across the room without batting an eye lash at the blazing fragments of the dresser's mirror, or the newly timbered work desk, or the once $2000 rug now turned to ashes. She reached the door almost immediately, and gave two seconds to read the note taped to the door: Hey baby, Thanks for the good time last night. Good to know you can still put out. Revenge sure does feel great, you narcissistic bitch. --Robbie "Asshole." Parker muttered, opening the door and running down the hall, to the elevator. Mrs. Crabshaw from the end of the hall had already left her room at the smell of the smoke, apparently the only aging druggie in the building with a sense of smell. "Is that smoke?" She asked Parker as she zoomed past. "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am, it's fire ma'am, gotta go ma'am!" Parker started downstairs just as she finished the garbled sentence. The concrete steps cut at her feet, but the pain went unnoticed in her enraged, adrenaline-fueled state. The Calle Paraiso Apartment Building was on fire. That sucked. Parker Frost was running away from the blaze naked. That sucked. She had been stood up and nearly murdered. That also really sucked. The day had not started to her liking, but that was OK. At least she was alive. And naked. Shit. First stop: Belk. No, no wallet. First stop: Pawn shop. Please let there be a guy behind the counter, some ugly, disgusting, fat, strangely generous guy! The day light was nasty, filtered by exhaust smoke and various ominous rain clouds. There was a dead cat in the street, mangled and run over, and the medical waste plant across the street appeared to be having a strike. A crowd of equally bored and enraged workers stood with picket signs outside the plant's gates, continuing their anti-establishment cheers despite the running by of a perfectly shaped young woman, de-clothed. Parker ignored the insulting feeling and just ran past, scolding herself for even noticing such a thing at a time like this. There was a pawn shop on the street corner, right past an old fashioned toy store. Old fashioned toy store... Oh well. Parker continued, past another apartment building--this one not on fire--and past the toy store. A twelve-year-old and his mother came out carrying three huge bags of toys and candy, only stopping to stare at the stark naked woman running past, cutting open her feet on the cold sidewalk. The boy cooed something about babies and milk, but Parker didn't stay to take joy in the filth of the moment. Time was not her friend. Parker practically jumped into the pawn shop, scaring the old black man behind the counter. "Oh thank GOD!" Park gasped, breathing heavily and taking in her surroundings. "Do... do you.... do you have any overalls?" The old black man just stood there, mouth agape. He looked to have only three jutting teeth. An odd characteristic, for sure. "In the back. Second row from the right." Parker nodded her thanks, gave a curtsy, and ran to the back. Rows of clothes greeted her, with the second row to the right dedicated entirely to work clothes. She selected a pair of blue overalls, slipped them on, and walked back to the counter up front. The old black man was still there, bewildered. "Um, sorry sir, but would you mind if I borrowed these for a day? I kind of have to come back by here, because my apartment is on fire, and I'll have to talk to the police about the rat bastard sociopathic ex-boyfriend who did it. I'll only be gone for a little while, just enough time to find him before he skips town or puts on a fake mustache or whatever it is rat bastard sociopathic ex-boyfriend do. You understand, yeah?" He stood there for a moment, staring. Finally: "Sure. Go ahead." "Thanks. I'll come buy a new mirror when I come back." Parker ran out like she'd robbed the place, flying like a bat out of hell down the street to find her man. Her ex-man. Her... whatever. __________________ It's a rare pleasure in this world to get your mind fucked. Usually it's just foreplay. M.B. Keene Last edited by RetroGunslinger; 11-19-2008 at 11:23 AM..