I don't own Cowboy Bebop and I don't own the song "Stormy Monday Blues"
"I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, downthrow and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression", -Dylan Thomas
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Mars. The place where everyone wants to go. The most happenin' planet in the galaxy. To live there is a paradise for the rich, but for the poor it's hell.
As many stories begin this one began on a dark and stormy night.
~They call it Stormy Monday~
In a dirty alley, a mother lies dying of a gunshot wound, her child cradles her head in his lap. She smiles up at him. So brave. Too brave...children aren't supposed to be the brave ones. Children aren't supposed to have to deal with death and tragedy. Such innocence should not be torn away by gunshots in the night.
"My dear Jonathan....I'm so sorry." She whispered to him with her last dying breath.
~But Tuesday's just as bad~
"Mama?" The tears that already mingled with the rain on his face began tumult down his chin and onto the face of the woman he once knew as 'mother.' "No mama...wake up...wake up!" But it was hopeless, nothing could bring her back now. The child sniffled and grew calm. He had seen death before, he knew it's presence. He had seen death on so many faces; the old man in the apartment next door, the woman who smoked cigarettes on the corner, waiting for a car to come. He understood that his mother would never sing him to sleep anymore, and he understood that he was now alone.
~They call it Stormy Monday
But Tuesday's just as bad.
Lord, and Wednesday's worse
And Thursday's all so bad~
Session 1: Stormy Monday Blues
Jack Spiegel, a man in his early sixties, boredly watches Jeopardy Survivor. He casually brings a bottle of whiskey to his mouth and takes a deep swallow.
~The eagle flies on Friday~
"Damn I feel like getting drunk tonight." He thinks to himself, while pondering the movement of a female contestant's breasts. He laughs softly to himself. "I think I will." He says outloud as the host's monotone voice asks the question: "What famous author from the 20th century wrote the book "Thinner" under the synonym Richard Bachman?" The girl with the boobs hits her buzzer. " Who is Andy Warhol?" "No, I'm sorry, that answer is incorrect. Anyone else?" A balding middle aged man presses his buzzer. "Who is Steven Ken?"
~Saturday I go out to play~
" You moron, it's Stephen KING. KING damnit!" Jack swears.
"Correct! 500 to Randall! Uh, oh, Mary Sue, you're down to 100. Contestants, does she stay or does she go home? You have 30 seconds to decide." Jeopardy music starts playing.
~The eagle flies on Friday~
"Oh, come on, this guy doesn't know what the hell he's doing! Kick him off!" He hmphs angrily and takes another swig of whiskey.
The jeopardy music comes to an end. " All right, contestants, have you made your decision?" The host asks. Just then, Jack hears a dog start barking. BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!
"Stein, shut the HELL up!" He yells, not bothering to move, hoping that the mutt'll just shut up and let things be for once. No such luck. BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! Pushing himself up from his chair, he slanders over to the window.
~Saturday I go out to play~
"I thought I told you to SHUT THE HELL UP!" He notices Stein sitting at the base of a tree, looking up at something. Jack opens the door and makes his way over to where the dog sits wondering what the fuck's so goddamned important Stein wouldn't just leave him be.
"What is it? A squirrel or something?" He looks up in the tree. At first all he sees is a dark figure, maybe a raccoon. The figure moves and he sees it's a kid of about six.
~Sunday I go to church~
"Hey, Kid. What'cha doin' in my tree?" He calls up to the boy. The kid doesn't answer but starts shoveling something in his mouth from some kinda lopesided bowl. Upon closer inspection Jack realizes that it's Stein's food bowl. "So that's why he got so worked up." He thinks to himself.
"Kid, get down from there before you hurt yourself." He calls again. In response the boy throws down the now empty dog food bowl and attempts to climb higher in the tree.
"Stupid kid. Well, it's your funeral." Jack shrugs and turns to go back in the house. Just then a branch breaks and the boy yelps as he falls to the ground. Jack walks over to him.
"I told you so." He says as he picks up the now unconscious boy and throws him over his shoulder, carrying him into his house.
~Gonna kneel down and pray~
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Light. A bright light.
The boy winces as he comes to, lifting his hand to his face to shield his eyes from the overhead light.
~Lord have mercy~
"You awake kid?" Comes a voice from across the room. The boy jerks and attempts to leap from the bed only to yell in pain and fall on the floor when his ankle gives out.
"You're lucky. It's only sprained." Jack says as he picks the boy up off the floor. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt ya. You can stay here until your ankle's better."
~Lord have mercy on me~
The boy looks in disbelief at Jack as if amazed by his kindness. He nods and allows himself to be placed back on the bed.
"So what's your name, kid?" Jack asks once the boy is situated. The boy pauses as if in thought, then shrugs.
~Lord have mercy~
"Can't you speak, boy?" The kid shrugs again, then lies down and goes back to sleep. Jack shrugs also and walks from the room to get some food for the boy when he wakes back up. "Sure is a strange one." He thinks, looking back at the boy.
The boy tosses and turns, mumbling in his sleep. Stein, the dog, watches him worriedly from beside the bed. When Jack comes back into the room the boy wakes up and looks curiously at him. His stomach starts rumbling when he sees what Jack is holding in his hands. Food.
~Lord have mercy on me~
As the boy eats, Jack silently regards him. He couldn't just keep on calling the boy "Kid." He needs a real name. "Hmmm...Jake? No, that's too close to mine. Peter? No, he doesn't look like a Peter. He needs a tough name, a name that's alright for the streets." Jack ponders while watching the kid scarf down incredible amounts of food for his size. "Rufus? Now where did that come from? Rex? Sparky? Wait, these names kinda sound like dog names. Hmmm....I once had a dog named Spike. Spike? I wonder..."
"Well, kid, I've decided to give you a name. What do ya think of Spike?" Jack asks suddenly.
~Though I'm tryin' and tryin' to find my baby~
The kid shrugs again, but this time there's a smile on his face.
"Spike it is then."
~Won't someone please send her home to me~
"I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, downthrow and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression", -Dylan Thomas
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Mars. The place where everyone wants to go. The most happenin' planet in the galaxy. To live there is a paradise for the rich, but for the poor it's hell.
As many stories begin this one began on a dark and stormy night.
~They call it Stormy Monday~
In a dirty alley, a mother lies dying of a gunshot wound, her child cradles her head in his lap. She smiles up at him. So brave. Too brave...children aren't supposed to be the brave ones. Children aren't supposed to have to deal with death and tragedy. Such innocence should not be torn away by gunshots in the night.
"My dear Jonathan....I'm so sorry." She whispered to him with her last dying breath.
~But Tuesday's just as bad~
"Mama?" The tears that already mingled with the rain on his face began tumult down his chin and onto the face of the woman he once knew as 'mother.' "No mama...wake up...wake up!" But it was hopeless, nothing could bring her back now. The child sniffled and grew calm. He had seen death before, he knew it's presence. He had seen death on so many faces; the old man in the apartment next door, the woman who smoked cigarettes on the corner, waiting for a car to come. He understood that his mother would never sing him to sleep anymore, and he understood that he was now alone.
~They call it Stormy Monday
But Tuesday's just as bad.
Lord, and Wednesday's worse
And Thursday's all so bad~
Session 1: Stormy Monday Blues
Jack Spiegel, a man in his early sixties, boredly watches Jeopardy Survivor. He casually brings a bottle of whiskey to his mouth and takes a deep swallow.
~The eagle flies on Friday~
"Damn I feel like getting drunk tonight." He thinks to himself, while pondering the movement of a female contestant's breasts. He laughs softly to himself. "I think I will." He says outloud as the host's monotone voice asks the question: "What famous author from the 20th century wrote the book "Thinner" under the synonym Richard Bachman?" The girl with the boobs hits her buzzer. " Who is Andy Warhol?" "No, I'm sorry, that answer is incorrect. Anyone else?" A balding middle aged man presses his buzzer. "Who is Steven Ken?"
~Saturday I go out to play~
" You moron, it's Stephen KING. KING damnit!" Jack swears.
"Correct! 500 to Randall! Uh, oh, Mary Sue, you're down to 100. Contestants, does she stay or does she go home? You have 30 seconds to decide." Jeopardy music starts playing.
~The eagle flies on Friday~
"Oh, come on, this guy doesn't know what the hell he's doing! Kick him off!" He hmphs angrily and takes another swig of whiskey.
The jeopardy music comes to an end. " All right, contestants, have you made your decision?" The host asks. Just then, Jack hears a dog start barking. BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!
"Stein, shut the HELL up!" He yells, not bothering to move, hoping that the mutt'll just shut up and let things be for once. No such luck. BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! Pushing himself up from his chair, he slanders over to the window.
~Saturday I go out to play~
"I thought I told you to SHUT THE HELL UP!" He notices Stein sitting at the base of a tree, looking up at something. Jack opens the door and makes his way over to where the dog sits wondering what the fuck's so goddamned important Stein wouldn't just leave him be.
"What is it? A squirrel or something?" He looks up in the tree. At first all he sees is a dark figure, maybe a raccoon. The figure moves and he sees it's a kid of about six.
~Sunday I go to church~
"Hey, Kid. What'cha doin' in my tree?" He calls up to the boy. The kid doesn't answer but starts shoveling something in his mouth from some kinda lopesided bowl. Upon closer inspection Jack realizes that it's Stein's food bowl. "So that's why he got so worked up." He thinks to himself.
"Kid, get down from there before you hurt yourself." He calls again. In response the boy throws down the now empty dog food bowl and attempts to climb higher in the tree.
"Stupid kid. Well, it's your funeral." Jack shrugs and turns to go back in the house. Just then a branch breaks and the boy yelps as he falls to the ground. Jack walks over to him.
"I told you so." He says as he picks up the now unconscious boy and throws him over his shoulder, carrying him into his house.
~Gonna kneel down and pray~
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------
Light. A bright light.
The boy winces as he comes to, lifting his hand to his face to shield his eyes from the overhead light.
~Lord have mercy~
"You awake kid?" Comes a voice from across the room. The boy jerks and attempts to leap from the bed only to yell in pain and fall on the floor when his ankle gives out.
"You're lucky. It's only sprained." Jack says as he picks the boy up off the floor. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt ya. You can stay here until your ankle's better."
~Lord have mercy on me~
The boy looks in disbelief at Jack as if amazed by his kindness. He nods and allows himself to be placed back on the bed.
"So what's your name, kid?" Jack asks once the boy is situated. The boy pauses as if in thought, then shrugs.
~Lord have mercy~
"Can't you speak, boy?" The kid shrugs again, then lies down and goes back to sleep. Jack shrugs also and walks from the room to get some food for the boy when he wakes back up. "Sure is a strange one." He thinks, looking back at the boy.
The boy tosses and turns, mumbling in his sleep. Stein, the dog, watches him worriedly from beside the bed. When Jack comes back into the room the boy wakes up and looks curiously at him. His stomach starts rumbling when he sees what Jack is holding in his hands. Food.
~Lord have mercy on me~
As the boy eats, Jack silently regards him. He couldn't just keep on calling the boy "Kid." He needs a real name. "Hmmm...Jake? No, that's too close to mine. Peter? No, he doesn't look like a Peter. He needs a tough name, a name that's alright for the streets." Jack ponders while watching the kid scarf down incredible amounts of food for his size. "Rufus? Now where did that come from? Rex? Sparky? Wait, these names kinda sound like dog names. Hmmm....I once had a dog named Spike. Spike? I wonder..."
"Well, kid, I've decided to give you a name. What do ya think of Spike?" Jack asks suddenly.
~Though I'm tryin' and tryin' to find my baby~
The kid shrugs again, but this time there's a smile on his face.
"Spike it is then."
~Won't someone please send her home to me~
