Attention my sincerely impatient readers: I'm spitting out updates as fast as I can here people alright!! Geez! You guys really know how to make a girl feel wanted and fearing for her life at the same time don't ya?! Anyway, you guys know I love Mort right...? Right? OK good, because I intend to spoon feed him just a wee more anguish here...(please don't hurt me)
Whisky lullaby: Well well! Obviously no one ever washout out your mouth with soap when you were growing up! Honestly, such language Haha No I'm just kiddin' you know I love to hear your weekly rants and reviews
Lady-Snape7: Yes my dear there is such a thing as pumpkin pie. (Don't eat my mother's however you'll regret it for a week)
Victoria Wolf: Yeah...you might want to get a tissue before you read this chapter...
Guin: Idea's for this story are constantly running through this small brain of mine, so if the (what you thought was going to happen) plot changes...don't feel left out because I confuse everybody!
Lehcar Sundance: I'm afraid I can't comply with your request...or can I... (evil laugh)
And since everyone seems to have responded well to my theory of adding pie...I might have to do it again...
VXVXVX
The quaint dead-end street that lingered in it's quiet and humble nature was quickly disturbed by the sound of a tow truck passing through it's clutches. But as the truck slowed down in front of a desolate, small home with no porch light on to guide it's own the truck made itself known with the sudden screech of it's breaks which admitted small giggles from it's residents inside.
"Thanks for the ride and everything Mort. I know it was out of your way..." Her sentence of gratitude was disrupted by a hand silencing her.
Mort shook his head and grinned. "Hey, like I said luv it was no problem I had to take care of some things around here anyway..." He stopped himself short and realized his potential fatal mistake of forgetting to cover up his voice.
"What did you say?" Asked Eva as she stared at him with almost a panic related interest in her voice, she turned to him and he knew her eyes were widened with the possibility...
"No problem." He spat out with a deceitful voice that burned his tongue and made him feel more disgust then ever before.
Eva shook her head in disbelief and ran her small fingers though her strangled blond locks. She smiled slightly and turned to open the door, and the sudden gust of wind that hit her face was nearly enough to knock her over, but inside Mort was only thinking of how graceful she could be...even in bad weather.
"Right, well thanks again. You'll call me when the car is ready right?" She said gesturing to the broken vehicle that had followed them that evening.
"Uh- yeah, my boss got your number. It-it shouldn't be more than a day or two." He said stuttering the last of his words. But she only gave him a half-smile and shut the door but he could roughly hear her as she walked to the porch...she mouthed the word: "Bye" then disappeared through the cartel colored door.
Mort watched her form disappear as she walked from room to room turning on lights and closing curtains. But moments later he realized he was still sitting in front of her house and it might not be the best impression to give away. So he sighed deeply in his chest and sadly put the truck in reverse, exiting the street with a solemn expression obvious on his face.
"Bye..."
His drive home had seemed pointless and long. After doping her car off at the now completely deserted shop, he had taken his time to get back to the dull place he called his home. He descended the concrete steps carefully...but apparently not carefully enough.
"Oh bloody hell...!" He call out to the night sky as his foot sternly collided with the cracked stairwell and he instantly tripped over himself and nearly fell. Luckily for him you don't train in martial arts for over 10 years and not have anything to show for it, as a result he instantly landed in a perfected pose, jumping over the next set of steps and landing with an plentiful grace he had almost forgotten he had. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, not noticing the approaching man behind him.
"...Damn kids always making trouble at these late hours." Said the distorted voice behind him.
Mort sighed with frustration and dropped his arms and head. "And a good evening to you too Mr. Benson!" Mort said with the sarcastic nature we all know and love.
The old man ignored this greeting and continued to walk past Mort, mumbling something Mort couldn't quite here. But he just rolled his eyes and continued on his way, hoping the landlord hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary with his 9 foot jump up the stairs.
Quickly, Mort decided he was too tired to worry about such ferocious things as began heading in the direction of his place but the old man stopped dead in his tracks and sprinted up to Mort with more speed than he realized the old man was capable of.
"Don't let your engel lose the Harfe!" Shouted Benson as he grabbed Mort by the shoulders. And despite the small man's size he had a strong grip. Mort attempted to shake off the old fool but to no avail he continued to shout:
"Ihr Schatz! Diese Frau! Lassen Sie sie nicht die Harfe verlieren! Sie muß mit der Harfe ständig bleiben!" The crazed old man seemed panicked and Mort could of sworn he saw tears brimming in the senile man's face. So it was for this reason only that Mort was gentle in getting away from Benson, he retreated to his room listening to the demented ravings of a crazed German floating behind him...
VXVXVX
Darkness echoed upon the lonely neighborhood that was all but abandoned except for the indecisive females on the street corners looking to sell themselves for some illegal substance they couldn't live without. And the streetlights proved that it was indeed a late hour and that the sidewalks were desperate for re-paving. Building after building lined themselves up against the sternly set background and behind on particular building (that was decorated with broken windows and moldy bricks) Stood a parked jeep, and on the inside the shaky owner waited for his approaching fate. He shook his hands together desperate to keep them from quivering anymore than they already were. And he anxiously breathed comforting words to himself in hopes that they were true.
A part of him however, knew they would not be.
So he continued to ramble out loud to himself, wishing that he were anywhere but there and constantly checking his watch as though it were a shroud. His eyes widened in horror as he looked to the review mirror and saw a familiar car pull up behind him. He fearfully watched the three men exit the vehicle and approach his own. The two largest stood in the back of the shortest and appeared to be listening to something he was saying. The jeep's owner carefully and slowly opened his door and was just about to step onto the dusty pavement when he received a hard kick in the face that made him feel as though his entire jaw had just popped out of the socket.
The largest of the three men continued to attack him as he fell to the pavement, streaks of blood smearing the nearby trash cans and garbage that littered the walkway. The men continued to laugh and talk amongst themselves as though what they were doing was the most natural thing in the world. But after some minutes later the shortest (and roundest) man who appeared to be the leader of the small group stopped them by simply raising a hand.
He walked nearby the owner of the jeep, whom was now choking on his own blood and who clutched at his midsection as though his organs were exploding. The short man knelt down to the injured one and stated as plainly as day:
"...We don't like delays Mr. Keane . So as you may have been able to tell...your request for an extension on your payment has been denied... And if I don't get my money by Friday...I'll mail some of your appendages to that pretty, little, fiancee of yours I read about in the paper..."
VXVXVX
OK, serious if you want to keep this plot something similar to a surprise you won't have the German text translated! Repeat: Do not have the German text translated! It will ruin my whole secret evil plan!
Whisky lullaby: Well well! Obviously no one ever washout out your mouth with soap when you were growing up! Honestly, such language Haha No I'm just kiddin' you know I love to hear your weekly rants and reviews
Lady-Snape7: Yes my dear there is such a thing as pumpkin pie. (Don't eat my mother's however you'll regret it for a week)
Victoria Wolf: Yeah...you might want to get a tissue before you read this chapter...
Guin: Idea's for this story are constantly running through this small brain of mine, so if the (what you thought was going to happen) plot changes...don't feel left out because I confuse everybody!
Lehcar Sundance: I'm afraid I can't comply with your request...or can I... (evil laugh)
And since everyone seems to have responded well to my theory of adding pie...I might have to do it again...
VXVXVX
The quaint dead-end street that lingered in it's quiet and humble nature was quickly disturbed by the sound of a tow truck passing through it's clutches. But as the truck slowed down in front of a desolate, small home with no porch light on to guide it's own the truck made itself known with the sudden screech of it's breaks which admitted small giggles from it's residents inside.
"Thanks for the ride and everything Mort. I know it was out of your way..." Her sentence of gratitude was disrupted by a hand silencing her.
Mort shook his head and grinned. "Hey, like I said luv it was no problem I had to take care of some things around here anyway..." He stopped himself short and realized his potential fatal mistake of forgetting to cover up his voice.
"What did you say?" Asked Eva as she stared at him with almost a panic related interest in her voice, she turned to him and he knew her eyes were widened with the possibility...
"No problem." He spat out with a deceitful voice that burned his tongue and made him feel more disgust then ever before.
Eva shook her head in disbelief and ran her small fingers though her strangled blond locks. She smiled slightly and turned to open the door, and the sudden gust of wind that hit her face was nearly enough to knock her over, but inside Mort was only thinking of how graceful she could be...even in bad weather.
"Right, well thanks again. You'll call me when the car is ready right?" She said gesturing to the broken vehicle that had followed them that evening.
"Uh- yeah, my boss got your number. It-it shouldn't be more than a day or two." He said stuttering the last of his words. But she only gave him a half-smile and shut the door but he could roughly hear her as she walked to the porch...she mouthed the word: "Bye" then disappeared through the cartel colored door.
Mort watched her form disappear as she walked from room to room turning on lights and closing curtains. But moments later he realized he was still sitting in front of her house and it might not be the best impression to give away. So he sighed deeply in his chest and sadly put the truck in reverse, exiting the street with a solemn expression obvious on his face.
"Bye..."
His drive home had seemed pointless and long. After doping her car off at the now completely deserted shop, he had taken his time to get back to the dull place he called his home. He descended the concrete steps carefully...but apparently not carefully enough.
"Oh bloody hell...!" He call out to the night sky as his foot sternly collided with the cracked stairwell and he instantly tripped over himself and nearly fell. Luckily for him you don't train in martial arts for over 10 years and not have anything to show for it, as a result he instantly landed in a perfected pose, jumping over the next set of steps and landing with an plentiful grace he had almost forgotten he had. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, not noticing the approaching man behind him.
"...Damn kids always making trouble at these late hours." Said the distorted voice behind him.
Mort sighed with frustration and dropped his arms and head. "And a good evening to you too Mr. Benson!" Mort said with the sarcastic nature we all know and love.
The old man ignored this greeting and continued to walk past Mort, mumbling something Mort couldn't quite here. But he just rolled his eyes and continued on his way, hoping the landlord hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary with his 9 foot jump up the stairs.
Quickly, Mort decided he was too tired to worry about such ferocious things as began heading in the direction of his place but the old man stopped dead in his tracks and sprinted up to Mort with more speed than he realized the old man was capable of.
"Don't let your engel lose the Harfe!" Shouted Benson as he grabbed Mort by the shoulders. And despite the small man's size he had a strong grip. Mort attempted to shake off the old fool but to no avail he continued to shout:
"Ihr Schatz! Diese Frau! Lassen Sie sie nicht die Harfe verlieren! Sie muß mit der Harfe ständig bleiben!" The crazed old man seemed panicked and Mort could of sworn he saw tears brimming in the senile man's face. So it was for this reason only that Mort was gentle in getting away from Benson, he retreated to his room listening to the demented ravings of a crazed German floating behind him...
VXVXVX
Darkness echoed upon the lonely neighborhood that was all but abandoned except for the indecisive females on the street corners looking to sell themselves for some illegal substance they couldn't live without. And the streetlights proved that it was indeed a late hour and that the sidewalks were desperate for re-paving. Building after building lined themselves up against the sternly set background and behind on particular building (that was decorated with broken windows and moldy bricks) Stood a parked jeep, and on the inside the shaky owner waited for his approaching fate. He shook his hands together desperate to keep them from quivering anymore than they already were. And he anxiously breathed comforting words to himself in hopes that they were true.
A part of him however, knew they would not be.
So he continued to ramble out loud to himself, wishing that he were anywhere but there and constantly checking his watch as though it were a shroud. His eyes widened in horror as he looked to the review mirror and saw a familiar car pull up behind him. He fearfully watched the three men exit the vehicle and approach his own. The two largest stood in the back of the shortest and appeared to be listening to something he was saying. The jeep's owner carefully and slowly opened his door and was just about to step onto the dusty pavement when he received a hard kick in the face that made him feel as though his entire jaw had just popped out of the socket.
The largest of the three men continued to attack him as he fell to the pavement, streaks of blood smearing the nearby trash cans and garbage that littered the walkway. The men continued to laugh and talk amongst themselves as though what they were doing was the most natural thing in the world. But after some minutes later the shortest (and roundest) man who appeared to be the leader of the small group stopped them by simply raising a hand.
He walked nearby the owner of the jeep, whom was now choking on his own blood and who clutched at his midsection as though his organs were exploding. The short man knelt down to the injured one and stated as plainly as day:
"...We don't like delays Mr. Keane . So as you may have been able to tell...your request for an extension on your payment has been denied... And if I don't get my money by Friday...I'll mail some of your appendages to that pretty, little, fiancee of yours I read about in the paper..."
VXVXVX
OK, serious if you want to keep this plot something similar to a surprise you won't have the German text translated! Repeat: Do not have the German text translated! It will ruin my whole secret evil plan!