Lionheart (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} leoz) wrote,@ 2004-03-09 01:52:00 |
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Might as well write before I go to sleep.
</br>"Miles To Go Before I Sleep"
The door to the deli opened and a stranger in a black fedora and a black overcoat walked in and stepped right up to thecounter. He, with a pale, veineous hand, removed the black sunglkasses from his face, looked the cashier/counter clerk straight in the eye and opened up his mouth as if about to speak. A bit of blood trickled out into a crimson stream which curved around the bristly, barely shaven hairs on the man's chin. His eyes rolled up into their sockets and, with one rolling convulsion, the man collapsed onto the counter, the weight of his body sending a multitude of commercially labelled objects and products out to be strown all about the deli's floor. The counter clerk stepped back, his face frozen with a mix of adrenalin horror and fear. His body kept shaking uncontrollably, his mind unprepared to deal with the situatin which had unfolded in front of him.
The door to the deli opened up once more and through it came two men, wearing spotless white bussiness suits with white ties and white Italian shoes. Their heads were perfectly shaved and their pale blue eyes looked out to the world with pure coldness and professional necessity. Both had a squarish pistol-shaped object in their right hands.
With suprising efficiency the two men in white approached the slouched, collapsed body of the man in black, thier guns readily aimed for the m.i.b. as if there was some remote possibility that this was all a game of playing possum. But no, the body did not stir. Its chest did not rise to gather in one more breath. Instead it remained as it was. Unmoving. Dead. One of the men in white picked up the body and put it over one of his shoulders. The other m.i.w. checked the m.i.b.'s overcoat pockets and, finding nothing, holstered his pistol, walked over to the deli's front door, and held it open for the other m.i.w. to walk through. Then he quickly followed out. As the door closed behind them the deli clerk finally rushed to the payphone in the back of the store but found the handset missing, vandalized days before.
</br>"Miles To Go Before I Sleep"
The door to the deli opened and a stranger in a black fedora and a black overcoat walked in and stepped right up to thecounter. He, with a pale, veineous hand, removed the black sunglkasses from his face, looked the cashier/counter clerk straight in the eye and opened up his mouth as if about to speak. A bit of blood trickled out into a crimson stream which curved around the bristly, barely shaven hairs on the man's chin. His eyes rolled up into their sockets and, with one rolling convulsion, the man collapsed onto the counter, the weight of his body sending a multitude of commercially labelled objects and products out to be strown all about the deli's floor. The counter clerk stepped back, his face frozen with a mix of adrenalin horror and fear. His body kept shaking uncontrollably, his mind unprepared to deal with the situatin which had unfolded in front of him.
The door to the deli opened up once more and through it came two men, wearing spotless white bussiness suits with white ties and white Italian shoes. Their heads were perfectly shaved and their pale blue eyes looked out to the world with pure coldness and professional necessity. Both had a squarish pistol-shaped object in their right hands.
With suprising efficiency the two men in white approached the slouched, collapsed body of the man in black, thier guns readily aimed for the m.i.b. as if there was some remote possibility that this was all a game of playing possum. But no, the body did not stir. Its chest did not rise to gather in one more breath. Instead it remained as it was. Unmoving. Dead. One of the men in white picked up the body and put it over one of his shoulders. The other m.i.w. checked the m.i.b.'s overcoat pockets and, finding nothing, holstered his pistol, walked over to the deli's front door, and held it open for the other m.i.w. to walk through. Then he quickly followed out. As the door closed behind them the deli clerk finally rushed to the payphone in the back of the store but found the handset missing, vandalized days before.
