 |
|
|
Post By The Hooded Hood offers a tiny slice of Parodyverse history Fri Aug 27, 2004 at 07:56:59 pm EDT |
Subject
How to Pick Up a Brunette | |
|
|
Next In Thread >> | |
| Five years ago: “So, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” the young Englishman with the punk-blonde hair asked. The raven-tressed brunette looked up at that cheeky confident grin. “Waiting for my boyfriend to get back from the bar,” she answered. “My big, rugby-playing boyfriend.” “He doesn’t sound like my type,” the young man smirked, slipping into the vacant seat. “You, on the other hand…” “Are with him. Look, Paul’s the jealous type, and I don’t want there to be any trouble.” “Fair enough,” her suitor nodded. “Can’t blame a bloke for trying, eh?” “Well, maybe I could blame you for the nice girl in a place like this line,” the brunette suggested. The young man shot her a smile, lit a cigarette, and slipped off into the crowd. He moved towards the bar, looking carefully to spot the burly physique and bullet head of a born Rugby player and the red neck of somebody still unused to the Greek sunshine. He waited till Paul was paying for the drinks and sidled up to him. “Raoul?” he said, laying a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Listen mate, I got a message from your date. She says she can’t see you till later, cause she’s havin’ a drink with some Neanderthal called Paul, okay. But he’s got no idea you’re giving ‘er some, so don’t worry at – oh, sorry mate, thought you were Raoul.” Then he quickly turned to the second biggest guy at the bar. “Hey, Raoul, I got a message for you…” But Paul was right behind him. “What did you say?” he demanded. “What did you say about my date?” “Date?” the confused random barfly frowned as the beery Rugby player bore down on him. “I don’t have a date.” The cheeky young man was dwarfed by the two men flanking him. He looked from one to the other. “Oh, right,” he nodded. “Sorry Raoul. I think this must be Paul. Oops.” “My name’s not R…” the man at the bar got out just before Paul hit him. Suddenly the bar was filled with flying bottles and flying punches. Paul got a barstool in the face early on. The brunette stood up in alarm as she saw the melee with her date in the middle of it. The young Englishman who’d spoken to her earlier grabbed her arm and pulled her away as three struggling men fell on and collapsed the table she’d been sitting at. “Best we get out of here, eh luv?” he suggested. “Paul’s going to be busy for a bit.” “He swore he wouldn’t get into a brawl again!” the young woman scowled wrathfully. “He promised.” “He’s a bastard alright,” her rescuer admitted, leading her to the fire exit. “He doesn’t deserve a lovely lady like you, that’s for sure.” He got her safely outside into the warm Greek night and halfway down the street before the police sirens sounded. “Best we go get a drink elsewhere, eh?” he suggested, putting an arm round the pretty brunette. “My name’s Con, by the way. Con Johnstantine.” “Nice to meet you, I guess, Con,” the brunette said, glancing uncertainly behind her as the riot police raced into the bar to subdue Paul with truncheons. “I’m Sarah.” Con Johnstantine looked over into Sarah Shepherdson’s dark dancing eyes and grinned again. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2004 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2004 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
| Echo™ v2.1 © 2003-2005 Powermad Software |
|
|