Hello all! I was surprised that I was able to add this second drabble so quickly, considering I have homework to do and them have to hurry off to my job before going away for the rest of the weekend. Don't expect all updates to be this quick, as I do have other things going on now that school has started.
Also, I learned that listening to music by Strawberry Alarm Clock at one in the morning with nothing but the multicolored strings of Christmas lights on can make for some weird dreams.
One, two, three; one, two, three. Bernardo counts out Riff's steps like a dance; it's the only way he can keep his composer. It's the only way he can stay focused on Riff and not on the fact that who he really wants to fight is Tony, the American who dare dance with and then kiss his sister. So Bernardo pretends that Riff is Tony. He creates vividly morbid images in his mind of his Sharks jumping that Polack in the alley and showing him what a real fight is; it certainly isn't what this pansy fight is right now.
Bernardo basks in the afterglow of the thought of killing Tony. He can see his crimson blood splattered across the pavement and his defeated, crumpled body sprawled out like road kill. Bernardo smiles at these disturbing thoughts and decides to up the tempo of the sick dance that he and Riff are taking part in. So he swings his leg high in the air, knocking Riff to the ground and sends his blade flying. It's over, Bernardo thinks. But then one of Riff's always prepared friends lends him a blade; that just angers Bernardo more, causing him to bring the dance to a beat he knows that Riff is incapable of keeping up with.
Then, in a flash of quick motion, that Polack breaks free and pulls Riff aside. That's fine by Bernardo; he's going to use his blade for all it's worth and show Tony what happens when you mess with Maria. But then some unknown dance steps get thrown in. In mere seconds, Riff drunkenly stumbles forward and lands spot on the tip of Bernardo's blade. Bernardo stares down at his blade in shock; it is Riff's blood, not Tony's, that has tarnished his blade. Before Bernardo even has a chance to think, Tony throws in some steps of his own. They are unfluid and messy steps, probably from being out of practice in the art of fighting.
Bernardo feels the blade sink into him; he swears he even hears bones grinding against cold metal. Then he begins to forget his perfectly planned choreography and just thrashes to the ground. He doesn't care that he's screwed up his dance that he's practiced; perfection doesn't matter in the place he's headed to.