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Writing When Luck Shoots You Down

Dragon Warrior

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Yes, I am back again. I have made a return to post a new story following the current life of a very unlucky young man who gets involved in a whole mess of crime without actually intending to. His sarcastic wit and quick quips often get the hell beaten out of him, so there are definitely some laughs along the way. If you enjoy my style of writing or humor, you might enjoy this.

On another note, it is a mature piece containing violence and swearing. I'm aware almost everything in the Anthology is practically mature, but in this case, it gives me more freedom to do what I need to with the plot I've developed. I assure you, it's all necessary. Enjoy.

[CENTER][SIZE="4"]When Luck Shoots You Down[/SIZE]
[SIZE="1"]By Gavin Kendrick Brown[/SIZE]

[B]Chapter One: Oh, How I Hate Mornings[/B][/CENTER]

[size=1]My name is Kensley Marcellus; And I have the worst friggin? luck. And currently I have thirteen semi-automatics pushed against my skull like I was a Beretta tree in full bloom. But let me back up real quick, for reference sake.

It was a normal day in the rather dull city of? well? the name doesn?t matter. I?m just your average fella'. I mean, I put my pants on one leg at a time like the rest of the gray mass of humankind. It just so happened that the ass in those pants was going to get the beating of a life time later that morning. But I wasn?t too concerned?considering I had no apparent clue that this future event was to occur.

Reaching into my cupboard, I pulled out the ground coffee and poured it into the coffee maker. I turned it on and it made a rather unusual moaning sound. Oh, how I wished only once the moaning in my apartment came from my girlfriend rather than a kitchen appliance. I took a good long look around my apartment. Well, it wasn't that long of a look considering it was one of those one-room places you buy for cheap. It might?ve been like a small square white-plastered cell, but it was my small square white-plastered cell. I closed the cupboard door softly and the walls groaned much like the coffee maker. The ceiling fan swayed as though it?d crash to the floor at any time. I scoffed, then poured some of the coffee into a cup.

I took a sip. Mmm? I love how my coffee maker doesn?t quite grind every bit. It?s alright. I?ll appreciate chunky coffee.

I didn?t even get a second sip before my door was busted down and I was jumped by several well-dressed men. A few more leapt out of my hamper like it was the friggin? Trojan Horse. Apparently they had been there for quite a while. I couldn?t help but smirk. Joke?s on them; I had some pretty rank socks in there.

?How are you feeling this morning, Toby?? one barked.

I squinted at them like they were mentally handicapped. ?I?d feel a lot better if one of you nice fellows would call a door repair place for that. I can?t afford it; not on this week?s pay.?

?Shut up!? another scolded.

?Well, alright.? Suddenly, guns were in my face. I?m not going to lie, it made me feel a tad claustrophobic. ?Could you remove your barrel from my nostril??

One walked up close to me. He looked like the leader. I couldn?t be sure. They were all pretty decked out. I?d kill for one of those suits. ?You?ve got quite the mouth on you, Toby,? he said.

?So did my last girlfriend,? I joked. I do that. I joke when I?m nervous. Wouldn?t you be slightly in the pants-shitting mode if you had some hot iron pressed against your cranium?

?Funny guy,? the leader chuckled. ?He?s a funny guy.? The others snickered a bit, then the leader turned back to me with a stern glare. ?You shouldn?t be talking like that when you?re in such deep shit.?

?Damn, and me without my boots on.?

?Say another smart ass remark, Toby, and we will blow your brains all across these tacky walls.?

?First off, I didn?t paint these ?tacky? walls, and for another thing, stop calling me Toby. My name is Kensley.?

The leader almost burst into laughter. No wait?he did. He did burst into laughter. But only for a second. I must?ve missed the joke. ?Kensley? Oh, that?s a good one. Don?t bullshit me, Toby. We want to know everything you know or else.?

?Um? well, I hear the Tigers are going to do well this season.? The leader nodded and suddenly I was feeling a real sharp pain in my jaw. It probably had something to do with me getting pistol-whipped by one of those damn thugs. ?You guys dress well, but your manners are shit.?

?Tell us what you know, Toby,? the leader pressed on. This guy does not waste time.

?For the love of Bill Cosby?s comedy, I have no fucking clue what you?re talking about. I dropped out of high school. I hated Mrs. Henderson?s class. She was such a bitch. I didn?t learn a God damn thing!? I admit I was getting flustered. But the leader kept his cool. He stared at me directly in the eyes. I stared back. It was awkward. ?So? are you going to ask me on a date or something??

?Fine, Toby,? the leader said softly, ?we can do this the hard way.? He gestured and another pistol smashed against my cheek.

?Fucking goats, that hurts, you dicks!? Another gun rendezvoused with my face. ?Shit? does it always have to be the face? What?s wrong with you people??

?We tried to negotiate, Toby,? the leader said. ?You don?t like to listen to reason.?

?I like to listen to reason,? I pleaded. ?Bring Reason in here. I?ll have a whole fucking conversation with the guy.?

?The time for mercy has passed, Toby.?

?I?m not Toby. What the shit is this? Is this because I haven?t paid my taxes? All it does is pay welfare so that shits can buy porn.?

?He?s not going to talk,? the leader said, sitting in my chair. He smiled, and said coolly, ?Kill him.?

I had to think fast. But I was never fast. You should?ve seen me in track. Still, nevertheless, words carelessly fell from my lips. ?You don?t want to kill me.?

?Oh, I think I do,? the leader smirked. ?This is the last time you get to mess with the Thirteen Berettas.? I then realized there happened to be thirteen men there with thirteen Berettas. Go figure.

?Oh, thirteen Berettas. That?s original.?

?Kill him. I?m sick of his voice.?

?No! If you try to kill me, I will?? I looked about the place and it came to me. ?I will kill your boss with my ceiling fan.?

The leader laughed. He does that too much. ?Ha, how do you propose to do that?? I then used my right leg, which happened to not have grubby hands all over it, and kicked the wall right where a stud happened to be. The ceiling fan immediately became loose from above and fell directly on the leader, still spinning. I won?t get into the gritty details, but it scared the other men off me. Thank God, ?cause one of them I swear was grabbing my ass.

I took off running down the apartment building hallways to escape. ?Guess they have to change their name to the Twelve Berettas now.? I could hear them trailing close behind and some gunfire, but I figured I was far enough ahead to make a clean getaway. Well, as clean as it could be while you have some mob boss? blood all over your pajamas.

I saw the door to the outside just up ahead when suddenly a man stepped in the way. He had a gun. And I did not. ?Oh, for the love of?? I muttered. I thought I was in the clear.

?Hey, Toby,? smiled the man. ?You have a debt to pay.?

I panted and whined. Whoever this Toby guy was, he had a lot of debts. And like I said before, I have the worst friggin? luck.[/size]

Comments would be lovingly appreciated :] I will get on chapter two then.
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Wow, I really, really like this. Alot. Honestly I think it's some of your best work. I laughed aloud at the "So you gonna ask me out on a date or something?" part, good stuff.

I look forward to reading some more. I wanna know who Toby is and why Kensley is able to make ceiling fans fall out of ceilings.[/color][/size]
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[size=1]Haha, well, firstly, I can't tell you who Toby is. And secondly, his apartment is major crap, so it's no surprise you can make it fall apart. But in actuality, if you hit a stud in the wall just right, it's very possible to knock a ceiling fan down if it's connected to that stud.[/size]
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[size=1][color=#8B008B]Well go figure; who would've thought you'd be back? Oh right, welcome back by the way.

I've got to say, this is definitely one of your great works. And, is it just me or are the stories in the Anthology beginning to go back to assassins and hitmen all over again?

Well, in any case, I wonder how he's going to get out of being Toby.[/size][/color]
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[SIZE="1"]And here I was just lamenting the fact yesterday Gav you weren't posting any more of your awesome stories. My, my, seems karma felt a little guilty after yesterday.

What can I say about that piece ? Well, it was fucking brilliant for one thing, I love your whole style of writing, and your comedy leaves me laughing for solid minutes at a time. Like everyone else, I can't wait to read more of it, reminds me a bit of Lucky Number Slevin, which is one of my favourite movies, so this had instant win-factor.

Favourite line of the whole thing:

[QUOTE][SIZE="1"]Thank God, ?cause one of them I swear was grabbing my ass.[/SIZE]

In the context of all the seriousness of what was going on around Kensley, that was just so damn funny.[/SIZE]
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[quote name='Gavin'][SIZE=1]Favourite line of the whole thing:[/SIZE]

[quote name='DragonWarrior']
[SIZE=1]Thank God, ‘cause one of them I swear was grabbing my ass.[/SIZE][/quote]
[SIZE=1]In the context of all the seriousness of what was going on around Kensley, that was just so damn funny.[/SIZE][/quote]

I'm throwing in a second vote on that. If I hadn't been so tired when I read this last night, I probably would've fallen off my chair laughing. Hell, I still might. I love the one-liners. You certainly have my attention.
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[size=1]Thank you for all the replies :] Good to be back.[/size]

[center][b]Chapter Two: The Dude Of Many Names[/b][/center]

[size=1]Now I like sex like any healthy man, but I really don’t appreciate getting fucked over this early in the morning. And from what I gathered thus far, that was pretty much the situation I was in. I was being chased down by thirteen—oh, sorry… twelve thugs with loaded Berettas and I’m now getting hindered by a guy with yet another debt I must pay. It’s as if I made a deal with the Godfather or something.

“Look, man, I don’t have time for this,” I said calmly to him. The man looked offended. Probably because he was.

“I’m a woman, jackass,” the stranger snapped.

“Oh,” I said blankly. “Really? I’m sorry, it’s dark where you’re standing.”

“I’m a girl!”

“Well, you do have to admit, you have a rather manly voice.”

The woman lifted her gun at me. “Look, you want to die or live?”

“I choose life,” I squeaked.

“Then come with me. And I know you, Gates. Don’t try anything funny.”

“Gates?” I repeated, as if saying the word would make some clarification in the atmosphere to why the fuck no one could pronounce my friggin’ name. “What’s wrong with everyone in this place? Are we all taking crazy pills?”

“I said move it!” she shouted. I’d say I was slightly reluctant to go with the scary, manly-toned woman who passed off for a perfect Medusa, but I wasn’t even able to take a step before more guns were pointed at me from the other direction. It was the Twelve Berettas. What a surprise. “The Thirteen Berettas?” the woman grumbled.

“Twelve,” I corrected. The sound of several gun hammers being brought back echoed about the hallway and I shut up.

“Synth,” one of the Berettas said. “Surprised to see you here. What’s your business?”

“He’s mine.” She nodded at me.

The Berettas laughed. Why does everyone laugh around here? Am I missing some crazy assassin inside joke? “I don’t think so, Synth,” said the same Beretta. “Toby is ours.”

“His name is Gates,” Synth corrected.

“You must be mistaken. This guy is Toby.”

“Kensley, actually,” I butted in.

“Shut up!” the Berettas and Synth shouted in unison.

“Okay,” I cowered.

“He’s coming with me,” Synth commanded, pulling out another gun from thin air. The Berettas all raised their fire arms towards Synth. The tension was so thick I could make a delicious soup broth. It’d actually go pretty damn good with my grandma’s home-grown potatoes.

“Synth, this doesn’t concern you. Tell Arch to butt out of the Berettas’ business.” This Beretta must’ve been next in command because he sure was talking a lot. And his anger was growing like some freak crop, and Synth’s words were the Miracle-Grow. Damn, this is a fucked up farm.

“Gates here owes Arch a debt. It’d be wise for you not to get involved. He’s already cross with your band as it is.” I glanced back and forth at Synth and the Twelve Berettas. It was obvious they knew each other from previous events. This one Beretta in particular had a close relationship from what I could figure. Maybe they had a thing once. But Synth totally looks like a guy. That’s just nasty. I feel bad for the Beretta, even if he was trying to kill me. Oh, but I’m getting off track.

“Look, guys,” I began, “it’s obvious all of this is a misunderstanding. You think I’m Gates, you guys think I’m Toby, that Beretta over there obviously thinks he’s a girl—seriously, dude, what’s with the lipstick?—but in actual truth, I’m a regular guy named Kensley. I own a cheap magazine stand downtown.” Somehow I knew they weren’t convinced. Probably because guns were still cocked in my general direction and their expressions were nothing short of “I would like to wreck this guy bad.” Except for maybe the lipstick fellow. He was just… yeah…

“Gates, come with me,” Synth finally said.

“He’s not going with you,” the Beretta in second command argued.

“I believe he is,” Synth snapped back.

“Over our dead bodies,” the Berettas barked.

“That can be arranged.” Synth smirked and suddenly gunfire lit up the hallway like a cheap American Chinese New Year. I’m not going to lie—changing of pants would be necessary at this point in time. Everyone was shooting and was very distracted, so I figured this would be a good opportunity to climb out the window and make a run for it. Yet I didn’t. In fact, I climbed down the laundry shoot and got stuck. It was really embarrassing. And I had one of those itches that when you scratch it, it doesn’t quite satisfy. What’s up with that?

By the time I managed to dislodge myself from the metallic box in the wall, I realized the guns had stopped and Synth was nowhere to be found. However, the hallway was littered with the bodies of the Berettas. All twelve were present. I crawled out of the shoot and looked around. Pondering the situation, I frowned.

“This is gonna be a bitch to clean up.”

After a quick change of clothes, I met up with my friend Reggie. I felt safer in broad daylight at a populated outdoor café. Somehow, it just didn’t scream “Let’s Shoot Civilians!” Reggie’s what you would call a hypochondriac. The man thinks he’s got everything, right down to every STD in the book. Funny thing is he’s never even made contact with a female body in his life. Now males… I’m not quite sure.

“So, wait,” Reggie said through mouthfuls of a sub, “you’re saying they want to kill you?”

“Shut it!” I snapped. “Not so loud. They might have me bugged or something.”

“What? You mean they can hear us? Dude, I just totally talked about my hemorrhoids.”

I stared blankly at him. “Yes, Reggie, I’m sure they’re real concerned about your butt bumps.”

“You’re not putting me in danger, are you?”

“Of course not,” I countered. “They probably don’t even know I’m here.”

“Why are they after you?”

“They think I’m some Toby guy.” I thought about it. “Nevermind. The dead ones think I’m Toby. Er, well, thought I was Toby. The shemale thought I was Gates. I have no fuckin’ clue what’s going on. They all change their minds like they change underwear.”

“So, wait, the Sixteen Shotguns-”

“Thirteen Berettas,” I interrupted.

“Right, the Thirteen-”

“Well, Twelve now,” I butted in again.

“Fine, Twelve.”

“No, wait,” I began, “They’re dead, so would that make them the Zero Berettas or the Nonexistant Gang Of Men Who Were Formerly Named The Thirteen Berettas?”

“Does that matter?”

“Probably not.” I sipped my coffee and sat back in my seat sulking.

“Look, Kens,” Reggie said softly, “I don’t care if those gun guys are dead. That psycho man-faced bitch is still running around loose in my neighborhood like some kid hocked up on sweet-tarts. You’re telling me we’re safe after she finished killing twelve trained assassins like it’s her morning workout?”

“No, I’m saying there’s a slight chance she has no idea where we are.”

“You didn’t tell her where you work, did you?”

I thought about it. “Well, yeah.”

“Fuck me sideways,” Reggie cursed. “We’re having cups of coffee a block away from your friggin’ newsstand, you dick!”

“If I see her, I’ll warn you. We’ll run.”

“I have asthma, you careless son of a bitch. I can’t breathe out my fuckin’ nose.” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t walk three blocks without having to puff on my friggin’ inhaler like it’s the goddamn Fountain of Youth. You give me at least an hour notice before that He-Man bitch comes our way. I’m not a friggin’ marathon runner, you know.”

“How am I supposed to warn you?” I asked. “It’s not like I have a pager in my pocket for people who want to kill me. I don’t even know what the hell they want. Besides, what will they want with you?”

“Are you kidding?” Reggie asked, almost astounded. “Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t you watch movies, dipshit? I’m collateral. I am the highest fucking form of collateral. They will kidnap my fat ass, lock me up in some fucked up Chinese torture chamber while they totally go Saw 4 on my ass. We’re talkin’ puttin’ keys behind my eye and shit.”

“They won’t do that to you.”

“The hell they won’t! They’ll send you a letter with my pinky toe all friggin’ dried up and shit in the envelope and say, ‘Hey, douche. We’ve got your pudgy friend. We noticed he has diabetes so we’re feeding him sugar until you come get him.’ You’re such a dick.”

“I will pay you fifty bucks if that happens, Reg.”

“You will blow me, bitch!” Reggie stood up for a second only to sit back down. “I don’t know about you, but I would like to keep my pinky toe. I like my pinky toe. I use it.” I was about to say something before he butted in. “If they take me in the back and totally rape my ass like they do in Pulp Fiction, I will wreck you so bad, you selfish bastard.”

“Reggie, this is why I don’t tell you anything.” I pushed my chair out and threw away the coffee cup. I didn’t bother to stick around and listen to his rants. I had to figure something out.

“That’s right, bitch!” Reggie shouted after me. “Just leave me here as bait. I don’t care. They can slit my Achilles tendon like in Hostel for all I care.” I didn’t respond and just kept walking. “Dude, go eat a bag of dicks!”

Eventually Reggie’s voice was too distant to make out, which was fine by me. The guy swears more than a rap video. I still got the impression he was right, though. Synth was watching me. I just didn’t know why she hadn’t made her move. So I did the right thing and walked to the police station.

Well, I would have if I didn’t get run over by a car, shoved into a bag, and tossed into the trunk by a couple scary-ass hairy men. My whole body ached, there was no doubt. It just added to my throbbing jaw from being pistol-whipped. The car ride was short, however, and before I knew it, I was being lugged out of the trunk again. They opened the bag enough for my head to come out. I could make out some faces, but my vision was slightly blurred. It might’ve had something to do with the whole getting-hit-by-a-car thing.

“How was the ride?” said one of the men.

I squinted and coughed. “I believe I asked for the Honeymoon Suite.” Suddenly I was pistol-whipped in the other cheek. “Fuck, damn guns. Pistol-whipping sure is America’s favorite punishment these days.”

“Don’t worry,” came the voice again. A gun was suddenly pressed against my head. “This will be quick.” Oh, fuck me running.


You know what to do, friends ;]
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Like sweet chocolate, my friend. I usually don't read too many anthology entries other than the occassional OB fic, but I actually really like reading this here. If it were a book, I think I'd buy it.

Love it.[/color][/size]
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[size=1][color=#8B008B]Definitely a knee-slapper, this chapter. I think I kept laughing even after I read some lines. You've got a real knack for making witty lines, Gavin. I'm impressed, truly I am. I can't wait for the next installment.[/size][/color]
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[SIZE="1"]God damn I love this story, Synth and Reggie are definitely two of the funniest characters you've ever written Gav. I just love the way you have Kensley go on complete tangents of thought, it makes everything seem just that much more natural, and yet comedic at the same time.[/SIZE]
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[FONT="Tahoma"][COLOR="DimGray"]This is brilliantly witty, Gav. It has a good mix of humor and action which you've proved go together like peanut butter and apples (a good combination, try it sometime). I'm excited to see what happens next. :D
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[SIZE="1"][COLOR="DarkSlateGray"]What a way to come back DW, I love this story. It's mix of comedy and action is superb and the results are awesome. It's sort of a Dragon Warrior version of Shoot em' Up what with the action and jokes.

Reggie is hilarious, and somewhat like me >_>[/COLOR][/SIZE]
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[size=1]Oh my, thanks :] I didn't expect such a large group of readers. I'm flattered. I'll try not to disappoint! I plan to make this pick up a lot from here on. The getting is getting good.[/size]

[center][b]Chapter Three: Hot Assassins & Hot Action[/b][/center]

[size=1]Ah, I had you guys fooled, didn’t I? I’m such a dick. I didn’t get shot, so you can all descend from the edge of your seats back into a comfortable reclining position. The gunshot happened to come from the left direction. If one were to turn their head in said direction, they’d find a smoking barrel attached to a gun in the hand of a rather hot woman. I mean, this girl was damn fine. And you’d be lucky to even look at her.

The guy who got shot—he wasn’t so lucky; mainly because he was shot. Duh. The gun against my head slowly slid down my side with the limp arm of the fellow who was now very much dead. He collapsed to the floor like a cheap stripper drunk off her ass and the two brainless thugs accompanying him stood dumbfounded. One managed to mutter words. “She hurt the boss.”

“Yeah,” the other replied. “She hurt him dead.”

They suddenly took out guns, as if they had a chance. The hot girl put a few new breathing holes in their faces and they were on their knees faster than my ex. I gently shoved them and they fell dead on the pavement. The girl who could easily be mistaken for some goddess of sexual pleasures approached me and pointed her gun. “Get out of that bag now. We don’t have time.”

I didn’t ask questions, but instead did what she said. I mean, c’mon! She was hot. I embarrassingly stumbled out of the bag, getting my foot caught once or twice, then finally gained my balance. I looked to her and noticed her scanning the horizon. I was very confused. “What are you looking for?” I asked. Probably her soulmate. I’m right here, baby.

“Shut up and follow me.” She took off at a sprint, one which there was no way in hell I could keep up with. Nevertheless, I followed. We took a sharp corner and I was suddenly face to face with a very nice piece of machinery.

I stood in awe. “Is that a crotch rocket?”

“Is there a problem?” she asked, stripping down to a tight leather cycle suit.

I shook my head slowly. “Not at all.” God damnit, I love this woman.

“Put this on,” she commanded, tossing me a helmet. “You’ll need it. We’re going fast.” I got on what we’d call the “bitch seat” and made myself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can be while having your junk smashed against a thin layer of leather covering a hard piece of metal that was in no way intended for a male to sit on. “Put your arms around my waist and hold on.” I had no problem with that!

The crotch rocket took off at an amazing speed. The babe wasn’t kidding. It felt as though my organs all shifted to my backside. I clung for dear life. The ride was very rough and bumpy. It’s as if she was attempting to hit every rut and rock along the way. My manhood would vouch for that.

After what I’m sure was a good century, we finally parked near an old warehouse by the docks. We dismounted and I rubbed my sore parts. She removed her helmet and looked at me. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I winced. “Just give me a second to find my balls.”

The super model woman of my dreams approached the door to the warehouse and unlocked it. “Try not to be too shocked by what’s in here,” she warned. Putting a bit of effort into it, she shoved the door open with her body and went in. I limped in after. She flicked the lights on and I saw a very large, empty warehouse.

“Oh, wow,” I said sarcastically. “I haven’t seen one of these before. Is that—oh my God! It is! An empty warehouse! Well, fuck Uncle Sam, now that’s something.”

She ignored me and approached a switch on the wall. Upon pushing it, the whole warehouse shook and I began to become as frightened as I was when I first watched Roseanne. The walls started to shift about and out of nowhere guns began to appear of all kinds. When everything stopped moving, it was as if I was standing in a very large gun shop. For the second time in the past hour, I stood in awe. “Smart ass,” she mumbled. She then grabbed one of the largest guns and started to load it.

“Wait, who are you?” I finally asked. It seemed like the appropriate time.

“My name is Naomi. I’m here to protect you, Kensley.”

“Oh, thank God, someone knows my name. I was about to go to court and friggin’ legally change it.”

“You’ve gotten yourself into a mess of trouble,” she continued professionally. “And I have to try and get you out. But first, we need to find you a safe place to be.”

“Alright, sounds good, sounds good.” I didn’t actually know that I just replied to anything. I will admit, I was staring at her breasts that whole time.

“Do you know of any places that are safe and that no one knows about?”

“I don’t think so.”

“No secret houses somewhere? No getaway flats by the beach? No wives in other states?”

“I work at a newsstand,” I said flatly.

“Do you know anyone who has somewhere you can stay?”

Reggie naturally came to mind, and with that, a possibility. “My friend Reggie. His folks have a cabin in the country. They’re not using it. I could probably get it.”

She finished loading the large gun and nodded. “Can you get ahold of him?”

“If his fat ass isn’t watching Thundercats.” I flipped open my cell phone and pushed speed dial. In seconds, Reggie could be heard.

“Reggie can’t come to the phone right now. He’s too busy getting sucked off by your mom. Oooohhh, ha! Just kidding. What’s up, shithead?”

I winced at his horrific profanity. “Hey, I need a favor.”

“What’d I tell you about favors?” Reggie’s voice echoed from the phone.

“Reggie, I…”

“I am a no-favor-man, Kens. Favors are what get you shanked in The Yard. You do someone a favor in prison, then they expect more and more until BAM! You wake up in the middle of the night with a shiv crammed in your kidney. I’m no jailbait, you hairy bastard.”

“Reggie, listen for a friggin’ second. I need your parents’ cabin.”

“Say what? We havin’ a party?”

“No, we’re not,” I replied. Naomi looked over at me impatiently.

“Can you hurry?” she asked.

“Who was that?” came Reggie’s voice. “Are you with a girl?”

“Yes,” I said reluctantly.

“Oh yeah? She hot?”


“What’s her name?” His voice sounded giddy.

I looked over at her before responding softly. “Naomi.”

“Naomi?!” Reggie’s voice screamed. “Oh, shit. That’s so pornstar. Fuck, that’s ‘I Moan’ backwards.”


“You’ve never seen Van Wilder, you dick. Shit, she’s got to be hot. She hot?”

“Reggie, please.”

“Dude, just answer. If she’s hot, cough twice. If she’s dece, cough four times. If she’s ugly as shit, cough once. If she’s ugly as shit, but I’d do her drunk—and we’re talkin’ totally shit-faced, man—then cough five times and sneeze.”

“Reggie,” I tried to interrupt.

“And make sure the coughs are separated, so I can tell. None of that long cough stuff. Short stuff, like ‘turn your head and cough’ shit.”

“Reggie, will you fucking be serious for a second?” I yelled.

“Me be serious? You’re the one wanting to bang some chick up in my cabin like it’s fuckin’ Cancun. Which, bytheway, I’m down with. More power to you. I won’t be a cock-block. I’m all for my boy getting some. But while some chick is slobbin’ your knob, I could be busted in on while I’m taking a shit or something and they could slit my throat. That’s a real fucking way to go. On the toilet. Like fuckin’ Elvis style, man.”

“Will you take this seriously for once?”

“Maybe you’ll take it seriously after your get my fuckin’ pinky toe in the cabin mailbox, you dick.”

“Reggie, I need the cabin so I can be safe. Naomi is an agent or something. I don’t know who she is. She’s going to help me.”

“She’s an assassin too? A hot assassin? That’s some kinky shit. She can be my ass-assin any time.” Reggie snorted a bit, then hocked up something gross. I waited a few seconds and his voice returned. “Alright, swing by my place and get the keys. But you better make it quick. I don’t want nobody following you here and then thinkin’ it’d be funny to shoot the fat guy.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Reggie said sarcastically. “Thank me after that girl polishes your silverware because you’ve got a fuckin’ pimp pad up in the mountains, biatch. Now where my hot pockets at?” The phone went silent, and I hung up. I looked to Naomi, who had assembled more than enough guns to help the United States Army through fourteen wars. What? I’m running out of good metaphors.


“Yeah,” I said, before several guns were piled into my arms.

“We’re traveling in style,” she said. She then pushed a button opening a garage door at the end of the warehouse. I saw the nicest black car I’ve ever laid eyes on.

I managed to mumble some coherent words. “She’s a beauty. Holy shit.”

“That’s her name,” Naomi said, getting in the car.

“Her name is Holy Shit?”

“No,” Naomi rolled her eyes. “It’s Beauty. Now get in.” I unloaded the guns into the trunk and hopped in the passenger seat.

“So, Naomi,” I began as she pulled the car out of the warehouse, “do you pick up guys like me often?”

She looked at me. “Try anything and I’ll cut off what little manhood you have.”

“Gotcha,” I stiffly replied. I had a feeling my “silverware” was going to get pretty rusty before I got any polishing done any time soon. What kind of sick trick is God playing when He makes a hot assassin? You can’t enjoy her because she’ll kill you seconds before you can unzip your fly. Life is so unfair. It’s times like these I wish my prom date wasn’t my cousin.

“Tell me where your cabin is,” Naomi said.

I put my seatbelt on, knowing her wild driving habits. “We have to see him first. He has the keys and all that.”

“Fine,” Naomi grunted. “But I can’t guarantee his safety. I’m not babysitting everyone, you know.”

“Okay. Just go to Murphy street.” The car accelerated like a bullet, and once more my lunch shifted from my stomach back to my eye sockets.

Note to self: if I ever get to see my apartment again, get a titanium door. Okay, thanks.[/size]
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[QUOTE][SIZE="1"]?Naomi?!? Reggie?s voice screamed. ?Oh, shit. That?s so pornstar. Fuck, that?s ?I Moan? backwards.?[/SIZE][/QUOTE]

[SIZE="1"]I swear to God Gav, my sides actually hurt after I finished laughing at that line, and I haven't seen Van Wilder, but after this, I'm definitely going to be checking it out. This is just such an awesome piece Gav, you better damn well finish it.[/SIZE]
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[COLOR="DarkSlateGray"][SIZE="1"]Another plain old funny chapter. The hilarity ensues DW. Reggie was still funny as hell, can't get enough of that guy. "Now where my hot pockets at?" was funny as hell imo, it just sounds like me to be honest. I love my hot pockets. Anyways can't wait for chapter 4 and more of Naomi, Reggie and Kensley's antics.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
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[size=1]I managed to mumble some coherent words. ?She?s a beauty. Holy shit.?

?That?s her name,? Naomi said, getting in the car.

?Her name is Holy Shit??[color=royalblue]

I laughed pretty hard at that one, haha.

I'm still liking it alot man. I'm glad somebody finally knows Kensley is who he says. Now I wanna know why she cares if he lives or dies.[/color][/size]
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[size=1][color=#8B008B]I've got to say, you put a lot of twists and turns in this story but no matter how twisted it gets, you manage to keep it on track. This is definitely the wittiest and satirized- at least I think- story I've read in a long while.

You know, it makes me wonder though why all of those people think Kensley is someone else and, like Mike, I just wonder why Naomi cares about Kensley. What's her purpose or does she want to kill him too after she "protects him"?[/size][/color]
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