(There is almost little to no association to the plot of the original BeBop story. Makes it easier for me to do whateber the hell I want! ^^ Enjoy!)
He sat in a bar,
p i s s e d o f f
and working his way down to the bottom of a bottle of gin.
He signaled the bartender to fill his cup for the fourth time as he sat with his face in his hand,
cigarette in his mouth.
Shit outta luck, that's what he was.
He almost had his bounty this time.
About a week ago, he and Jet were sitting on the Bebop watching the TV show Big Shot,
a new bounty has been put out for a man named Yamame Ichito,
who was supposedly hiding out on Mars,
and he was mighty elusive.
"TEN MILLION WOOLONGS?"
Jet exclaimed, spitting out grains of rice all over the sitting area.
He groaned with longing and turned to the man occupying the dingy yellow sofa.
"Spike?"
Spike's eyes glittered,
and he looked down at the plain white rice Jet prepared for dinner.
"I'm going for it."
"Pfft."
Spike scoffed, slouched over the bar.
Shit load of good it did anyone.
He drained his glass and tapped on the smooth wood of the bar,
the bartender topping off his glass again.
Ahh, the comforting sound of ice cubes dancing around in a glass.
Where was I?
Oh yes, the bounty.
Well, I'll spare you most of the details.
Fast forward to today,
Spike was hot on Yamame's heels.
"Leave me alone!"
Yamame ran, sweaty and distressed.
Ever since this stupid bounty was placed on his head,
people from all walks of life were coming after him.
He hadn't slept in days. Never mind what he did,
it's where he was going that worried him.
"Not a chance, buddy."
Spike muttered, he was close enough to reach an arm out and just snatch Yamame out of his shoes.
"Hey, watch out!"
Spike called out to Yamame,
who ran into the middle of a street.
Spike's eyes followed the body gracefully floating through the air.
Ever so peaceful, and gentle.
So, Yamame got friggen done in by the bumper of a cadillac.
Spike tried not to think about it.
But,
the thought of losing
ten million big ones
l i k e t h a t ,
was hard to
ignore.
"NO! Nononononononooooo!"
Spike stomped around,
clouds of red dust puffing out from under his feet.
He could hear the sound of ten million smackaroos being flushed down the toilet.
So here he sits,
face in hand,
sulking.
Yamame's body was scraped off the sidewalk a few minutes ago.
Spike found refuge in the nearest scum-infested bar.
Jet still doesn't know the outcome.
"You sure, Spike? That'll be your sixth one. You ought to-"
The bartender began to tell Spike to relax on the alcohol,
but Spike impatiently shook his glass at him.
The barkeep filled it somewhat discouraged.
'I need to get laid.'
Spike thought to himself,
downing this glass before slamming it on the bar and wiping his mouth,
standing on his legs.
Surprisingly,
they didn't buckle underneath him.
He threw what was left of his cash on the bar,
the bartender looking quite shocked.
"Have a nice day."
The bartender called to Spike,
who repsponded with a half-hearted wave before exiting the
scumbag watering hole.