Ta-dah! A sequel! It's only been, well never mind.
Disclaimer: own nothing
Bowling: The Sport of the Heartbroken
A Prologue that unlike last time actually is important to the story!
"Mac, I hate children."
"Pretend you do sir. People like people who like children."
"Who in their right mind would ever want to procreate?"
"Those who want to continue the human race?"
"Watch it Mac."
"I apologize sir, now remember, smile, pat their heads and don't tell them that if they touch you you'll have their entire family deported."
"I make no promises."
"Then why the hell did you get into politics sir?" Mr. Webcor, one of three gentlemen running to be mayor of New York was only able to give his campaign manager a glare before being thrust out onto the stage and to the cameras.
Seventeen years have gone by since last we saw the Thomas's and the rest. Sparrow and Charlie are still happily married. Mac, now 28 years old is a lawyer, much to no ones surprise and deeply interested in politics. At said age of 28, Mac had already been hired by one Gene Webcor to run his campaign for Mayor of New York. At the moment Mr. Webcor was speaking to the masses about cuts to education, one of the hot issues of the election at a local pre-school.
Fifteen minutes into the presentation, Mac's cell phone began to ring.
"So, you do realize that you are going to be directly responsible for letting the devil take over New York right?"
"Is it an O'Connelly thing never ever to give a greeting?"
"What's a greeting between sisters? And besides you're putting the devil in office. No one that evil deserves a greeting. They deserve to be spit upon."
"Thanks."
"Whatever, that's not the reason why I'm calling. You realize, right that throughout this whole interview the poor kid you sicked the devil on is slowly being strangled?" Mac quickly peeked behind the curtain and to her horror saw that her sister was right. It seemed that the kid had been squirming too much in Mr. Webcor's lap. Mac frantically began signing to her boss to let go of the chokehold he had on the kid.
"Has he let up?"
"Nope."
"Curses!" Mac with the phone still in her ear looked desperately around her hoping an idea or help would appear.
"You might want to do something soon, he's turning blue." Mac desperately signaled again to her boss to let up the chokehold on the kid, but he ignored her. She tried again only adding more theatrics, but all Mr. Webcor did was discretely give her the bird.
"The....."
"Language, sister dear."
"He just gave me the finger!"
"The piece of ...."
"Enough! What am I going to do? He's really going to have problems with parent voters if he strangles a kid!"
"Mac, the man just gave you the finger!"
"He's not the first person to do so."
"Yes, but he may be the first person you let get away with it."
"Indeed. Hold on."
"Why? What are you going to do?"
"Something diplomatic."
"Never your stronger suite." Mac just gave her phone an annoyed look and set it down. Brushing herself off and composing herself, Mac drew a big breath and walked out from behind the curtain and onto the stage. Camera flashes greeted her. With purpose in her step she walked over to her boss and kneeled down beside him.
"Sir, you have an important phone call."
"Well take a message Mac, do what I pay you to do." Mr. Webcor said this all while still smiling at the crowd and waving at a few select people.
"Sir, it's very important." At this statement Mr. Webcor turned away from the crowd and looked at his campaign manager. In a rather harsh whisper, Mr. Webcor hissed,
"As you may not be able to see right now, I'm sure due to your idiocy, but I'm right in the middle of something. And quite frankly, I don't care if it's the hospital phoning to tell me my wife was in a car accident and only has moments to live. So, I will make this ridiculously clear for your sake, take. A. Message. Or take a hike."
"Yes, sir. But respectfully sir, I would suggest you let up your hold on the child, unless you want to spend election night in jail." Mac's hiss matched her boss's for coldness. Mr. Webcor quickly looked at the blue face of the child in his lap and to Mac's relief loosened his hold.
"That will be all Miz. Thomas, quit wasting my time." Mac, annoyed, walked off the stage and picked up her phone.
"I need a new job."
"That's for sure, he's tightened his grip again."
"WHAT?"
"Didn't you tell him to loosen up?"
"He seems to have ignored me."
"A devil AND an idiot."
"Screw this."
"Now hunny don't do anything I wouldn't do." With a sadistic smile on her face, Mac took off her right pump and with a calculated accuracy threw it right at the nose of Mr. Webcor from the side of the stage, causing an important chain of reactions. First Mr. Webcor let go of his chokehold on the kid, then used those newly released hands to stem the blood flow from his bleeding nose, all the while uttering such swear words that Mr. Webcor assured himself a lost election.
"Nice aim Mac."
"Thank you Finn. But I have to go now, the police are arresting me."
"Cool! You're a political prisoner! Keep up the fight even if they use Chinese bamboo torture techniques!"
"Will do, by the way could you phone Sparrow up to come bail me?"
"Don't I always?"
"Thanks kid. I love yah!"
"Yah, I love me too." Laughing to herself, Mac closed her cell phone and turned to the police officers. They promptly cuffed her and led her to a car all the while with Mr. Webcor screaming about things he would do to Mac that were even worse then Chinese Bamboo torture in the background.
-----------------
"So," asked Sparrow a couple hours later and with $1000 less in her bank account, "you coming over for the weekend?"
"I might as well, I highly doubt Mr. Webcor will have anything for me this weekend or the one after that, or the one after that."
"Face it kid, I don't think he's going to have you come in for weekends ever again."
Disclaimer: own nothing
Bowling: The Sport of the Heartbroken
A Prologue that unlike last time actually is important to the story!
"Mac, I hate children."
"Pretend you do sir. People like people who like children."
"Who in their right mind would ever want to procreate?"
"Those who want to continue the human race?"
"Watch it Mac."
"I apologize sir, now remember, smile, pat their heads and don't tell them that if they touch you you'll have their entire family deported."
"I make no promises."
"Then why the hell did you get into politics sir?" Mr. Webcor, one of three gentlemen running to be mayor of New York was only able to give his campaign manager a glare before being thrust out onto the stage and to the cameras.
Seventeen years have gone by since last we saw the Thomas's and the rest. Sparrow and Charlie are still happily married. Mac, now 28 years old is a lawyer, much to no ones surprise and deeply interested in politics. At said age of 28, Mac had already been hired by one Gene Webcor to run his campaign for Mayor of New York. At the moment Mr. Webcor was speaking to the masses about cuts to education, one of the hot issues of the election at a local pre-school.
Fifteen minutes into the presentation, Mac's cell phone began to ring.
"So, you do realize that you are going to be directly responsible for letting the devil take over New York right?"
"Is it an O'Connelly thing never ever to give a greeting?"
"What's a greeting between sisters? And besides you're putting the devil in office. No one that evil deserves a greeting. They deserve to be spit upon."
"Thanks."
"Whatever, that's not the reason why I'm calling. You realize, right that throughout this whole interview the poor kid you sicked the devil on is slowly being strangled?" Mac quickly peeked behind the curtain and to her horror saw that her sister was right. It seemed that the kid had been squirming too much in Mr. Webcor's lap. Mac frantically began signing to her boss to let go of the chokehold he had on the kid.
"Has he let up?"
"Nope."
"Curses!" Mac with the phone still in her ear looked desperately around her hoping an idea or help would appear.
"You might want to do something soon, he's turning blue." Mac desperately signaled again to her boss to let up the chokehold on the kid, but he ignored her. She tried again only adding more theatrics, but all Mr. Webcor did was discretely give her the bird.
"The....."
"Language, sister dear."
"He just gave me the finger!"
"The piece of ...."
"Enough! What am I going to do? He's really going to have problems with parent voters if he strangles a kid!"
"Mac, the man just gave you the finger!"
"He's not the first person to do so."
"Yes, but he may be the first person you let get away with it."
"Indeed. Hold on."
"Why? What are you going to do?"
"Something diplomatic."
"Never your stronger suite." Mac just gave her phone an annoyed look and set it down. Brushing herself off and composing herself, Mac drew a big breath and walked out from behind the curtain and onto the stage. Camera flashes greeted her. With purpose in her step she walked over to her boss and kneeled down beside him.
"Sir, you have an important phone call."
"Well take a message Mac, do what I pay you to do." Mr. Webcor said this all while still smiling at the crowd and waving at a few select people.
"Sir, it's very important." At this statement Mr. Webcor turned away from the crowd and looked at his campaign manager. In a rather harsh whisper, Mr. Webcor hissed,
"As you may not be able to see right now, I'm sure due to your idiocy, but I'm right in the middle of something. And quite frankly, I don't care if it's the hospital phoning to tell me my wife was in a car accident and only has moments to live. So, I will make this ridiculously clear for your sake, take. A. Message. Or take a hike."
"Yes, sir. But respectfully sir, I would suggest you let up your hold on the child, unless you want to spend election night in jail." Mac's hiss matched her boss's for coldness. Mr. Webcor quickly looked at the blue face of the child in his lap and to Mac's relief loosened his hold.
"That will be all Miz. Thomas, quit wasting my time." Mac, annoyed, walked off the stage and picked up her phone.
"I need a new job."
"That's for sure, he's tightened his grip again."
"WHAT?"
"Didn't you tell him to loosen up?"
"He seems to have ignored me."
"A devil AND an idiot."
"Screw this."
"Now hunny don't do anything I wouldn't do." With a sadistic smile on her face, Mac took off her right pump and with a calculated accuracy threw it right at the nose of Mr. Webcor from the side of the stage, causing an important chain of reactions. First Mr. Webcor let go of his chokehold on the kid, then used those newly released hands to stem the blood flow from his bleeding nose, all the while uttering such swear words that Mr. Webcor assured himself a lost election.
"Nice aim Mac."
"Thank you Finn. But I have to go now, the police are arresting me."
"Cool! You're a political prisoner! Keep up the fight even if they use Chinese bamboo torture techniques!"
"Will do, by the way could you phone Sparrow up to come bail me?"
"Don't I always?"
"Thanks kid. I love yah!"
"Yah, I love me too." Laughing to herself, Mac closed her cell phone and turned to the police officers. They promptly cuffed her and led her to a car all the while with Mr. Webcor screaming about things he would do to Mac that were even worse then Chinese Bamboo torture in the background.
-----------------
"So," asked Sparrow a couple hours later and with $1000 less in her bank account, "you coming over for the weekend?"
"I might as well, I highly doubt Mr. Webcor will have anything for me this weekend or the one after that, or the one after that."
"Face it kid, I don't think he's going to have you come in for weekends ever again."