A story I wrote cause I was bored
May. 2nd, 2005 06:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anzilaTell me if you think I should continue it.
I sigh to myself as I reach for the bottle. He's showing all the telltale signs, a slight muscle twitch, a dilation of the pupils, a quickening of breath. Oh yea, this guy's definitely not going to just let this go peacefully. I had hopes that this one might see reason, but seeing as he’s ten seconds from punching me in the face, I guess that was expecting too much.
Take it easy, just like they taught you. Don’t give yourself away, you’re just taking a drink. Five seconds. Pull back the bottle. Four seconds. Lift it towards your mouth. Three seconds. Okay, his arms up, everyone knows what he intends. Two seconds. Okay conscience, I gave him a head start.
I swing the bottle of Lone Star at his head while twisting my own out of the way. Have to compensate for the close quarters, it’d be real embarrassing to get caught on the bar now. Can’t get as much force at this angle, luckily the bottle more than makes up for it. I watch it connect with his face, the glass cracking quite nicely (I had hoped it would explode spectacularly, but I guess this will have to do. Ri always did accuse me of being a drama queen), crumpling his face beneath it. His head snaps to the side, trying to go with the force, every internal system working unconsciously to minimize the damage. They fail. His nose explodes with a decent crack, and blood shoots out in a cloud across the bar. The sound his jaw makes is far more fulfilling than his nose. Almost makes up for the bottle not shattering. I follow the force of the blow, spinning on the stool until the bottle rests by my side, leaving me open. That gives his buddies a chance to decide to be somewhere else. Beer drips through the cracks in the bottle. Not big loss, it was a pretty shitty beer.
All it takes is one glance up to confirm that his buddies are about as bright as he is. One on the left has a knife. Priority target. The two on the left are coming at me with their bare hands. Morons. Secondary targets. The guy right in front of me is going for a chair. Good, it’ll take him two seconds to reach it, another one to lift it and three to bring it around. More than enough time to deal with knifey.
It's just gonna be one of those nights…
I sigh to myself as I reach for the bottle. He's showing all the telltale signs, a slight muscle twitch, a dilation of the pupils, a quickening of breath. Oh yea, this guy's definitely not going to just let this go peacefully. I had hopes that this one might see reason, but seeing as he’s ten seconds from punching me in the face, I guess that was expecting too much.
Take it easy, just like they taught you. Don’t give yourself away, you’re just taking a drink. Five seconds. Pull back the bottle. Four seconds. Lift it towards your mouth. Three seconds. Okay, his arms up, everyone knows what he intends. Two seconds. Okay conscience, I gave him a head start.
I swing the bottle of Lone Star at his head while twisting my own out of the way. Have to compensate for the close quarters, it’d be real embarrassing to get caught on the bar now. Can’t get as much force at this angle, luckily the bottle more than makes up for it. I watch it connect with his face, the glass cracking quite nicely (I had hoped it would explode spectacularly, but I guess this will have to do. Ri always did accuse me of being a drama queen), crumpling his face beneath it. His head snaps to the side, trying to go with the force, every internal system working unconsciously to minimize the damage. They fail. His nose explodes with a decent crack, and blood shoots out in a cloud across the bar. The sound his jaw makes is far more fulfilling than his nose. Almost makes up for the bottle not shattering. I follow the force of the blow, spinning on the stool until the bottle rests by my side, leaving me open. That gives his buddies a chance to decide to be somewhere else. Beer drips through the cracks in the bottle. Not big loss, it was a pretty shitty beer.
All it takes is one glance up to confirm that his buddies are about as bright as he is. One on the left has a knife. Priority target. The two on the left are coming at me with their bare hands. Morons. Secondary targets. The guy right in front of me is going for a chair. Good, it’ll take him two seconds to reach it, another one to lift it and three to bring it around. More than enough time to deal with knifey.
It's just gonna be one of those nights…
