Mkay, first things first: This is wicked short due to time-munching exams and general fatigue on my part. I wish I could be like Tafadhali and sleep for three hours and be okay for the day. Please R&R!
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In a run-down trailer, a large, burly man sat sprawled in a large, lumpy, mottled green chair that must have been a rather nice chair before the moths had developed a fondness for its fibers. This burly man with muscles protruding oddly from his anatomy also looked rather grand and lumpy. But his face must have been rather handsome before its nose had been broken and the general overlook plastered with a permanent sneer and some scars. All in all, this lumpy, large man looked like his lumpy, large chair.
The man shifted his weight and groaned, letting out a huge emission of gas from his rear as he turned with difficulty onto his side, his greasy pate shining like a platter smeared in melted turkey fat after Thanksgiving. A phone shrilly announced an incoming call, stabbing the smoky, greasy silence several times before kicking it in the head and knocking it over. The man started, piggy eyes wide and searching for this assailant of the smelly peace. Spotting the phone poking out from under a pile of rubbish, he heaved a raspy sigh as his bottom departed from the seat, grubby hands snatching the phone and pounding the 'answer' button.
"'ello?" He inquired gruffly, still standing with a crossly stupid look adorning his face. There was an impatient voice on the other end, switching constantly from silky to staccato to a controlled panic, then back again. "Oh, hi Mr. Duh Boys," he said wisely, and sat back down with a thump. The trailer shook. "Uh huh, uh huh, sure I can do dat, uh huh…Tuezday? No sorry, I gots to do a poundin'-in at some guy's bat mitzfah." He grinned idiotically. "Oh, Friday? Sure. Uh huh, sure thin' Mr. Duh Boys. Yeah. See you dere." He hung up and kicked the rubbish pile, sending stuff flying everywhere, then bent down to inspect it. He picked up a calendar with a rotting fruit on it, smeared off the carcass and fished around in the pile some more for a pen. He picked one up and concentrated as he wrote in crooked, childish script:
BeET uPp mIsTR dUh bOizez bRuTHaR
He licked his lips, licked the pen, and chucked the calendar elsewhere.
Back in the mansion, Oliver leaned against the back of his chair contentedly. Everything was settled, and he didn't need to worry any longer. His lean face relaxed and softened as his hazel eyes began to close and his mind closed the shutters of his thoughts. And he slept.
Pacing his hut was the handsome young man, Orlando, swiftly placing one foot in front of the other and tearing off into the next direction. He rapidly spoke to Adam, saying things that made no sense to the tired mind of the faithful old man. "No, no, no, what should we do? It makes no sense for us to run off into the village…we'll be found as easily as rats in a cage…but what about the baker? He'll hide us…you'll pretend to be his father, I'll pretend to be his son…no, can't trust the baker…anyone will do anything for money…"
Adam leaned forward pleadingly, opening his arms. "Sir, why must we fly?"
Orlando snapped his gait towards the other direction. "Oliver. He will have my hide after what I did to him."
"Sure, sir, he will have some pity."
"None. None at all." Orlando suddenly stopped and dropped on his bed, having had his exhaustion catch up to him. "I'll sleep if I can, and tomorrow, we'll see what will come of this." He rolled onto his side and within five minutes, a gentle, steady snore was heard. Adam watched the young man drift into sleep, and stood slowly to drape a blanket over him. He shuffled to an armchair and tucked himself as best he could into it, and dreamed of youth and valiance.
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I know, I know, it's insanely short. ^_^ It's all I could crank out this week—curse the exams. I'll get more out next week!
~Artesania