Earl Edwards awoke with a strange sensation, he could wiggle his toes. He could move his feet, he could walk! Edwards was tired of the five years of nothingness, his familie's history slowly fading. He was not ready to die poor and unsatisfied, that was not in the plans. Edwards wiped the dust of his window and looked out of it for the first time in a while.
That italian he kicked earlier in anger was walking around with deep thought writtien on his face. Edwards poured himself a glass of wine. The older frenchman he bumped into was strolling around. He took a big gulp. The man that he had to move himself out of the way for was avoiding cracks on the sidewalk as if they were instant death. A sip. Some man seemed to be observing the italian. The last few drops took a while to enter his mouth, but they made the trip. Earl knew that the Italian spelled trouble, but what was the trouble? Another glass was poured, and Earl spent the rest of the day just observing people.
It became night and Earl decided to read, but the cieling light that hung naked, unshrouded by the griminess of the room, was burnt out. Earl went down to frank to get a bulb replacement.
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" A bulb replacement? Do you realize how easy it is for you? You have to worry about a lightbulb, and I have to worry at sleep or not if my kids are going to grow up into brats because their mother is..."
" I apologize I asked."
Earl quickly turned his heel and left the room and met roger coming his way.
"Earl, I have matters to discuss with you, there is a possibility of regaining your wealth.", and Roger told him of vast riches under the lot. Earl could not believe it, but he figured out the italian and the weird guy observing him. Something was going down, and Earl would have to wait to see what was what. This was one of the rare times Roger told him something useful, his speech was usually laced with insults and criticisms. Earl knew for some reason that this was true, or he chose to believe it. Either way, Earl was thinking of getting back to England.
He observed the Italian and other guy for a few days, played poker, and drank. Earl could not take this anymore. He needed for something to happen. Earl visited the bookstore apologized to the worker there that he screamed at earlier and picked up a few more books to read.
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Earl was at the last poker game he would ever attend near thallow flats. He had pawned his watch and wheelchair. Earl was not dealt a single decent hand the whole knight. Sir Earl Edwards didn't care, he knew that he had wealth in his future. Earl then hit it big. He hook, lined, and sinkered someone in a pot and choked them for what it was worth. He was now up more than what he had bought in with. Scrant looked at all the chips in the pot, a multicolor affair. He pushed the chips to him, more and more; it was sensory overload for him. He began to laugh out-loud so hard that all the player's began to quickly get annoyed with the gitty Brit. The players without any vocal communication, decided to team up against Scrant. Even so, Earl was taking pots left and right, and was unstoppable. Eventually a man grabbed his shoulder.
" Sir you have won lots and are irritating the patrons of this fine institution, I might suggest that you leave."
"Oh, I have no intention of leaving."
"Well, that's too bad."
The man stuffed the money Earl Edwards had won in his coat and threw him out the door. Earl's face met the pavement, and felt his cheeks on fire. Earl rubbed them, but he couldn't subdue the pain. Roger came from behind him and grabbed his shoulder.
"It should happen pretty soon."
Earl payed no attention, he had a stack of money, things were looking good for him. He spent the rest of the day drinking in the tavern. Even though he was not pleased by the smoke, he needed to drink there.
Earl got bored and went out to the lot next to thallow flats. He was in a sea of gray. He kicked a few pieces of gravel but the gray stayed. Earl stood there and just looked up at the sky, it was clear blue. He watched the clouds slowly move and felt a force smack him to the ground. An explosion had happened. Earl Noticed little glistening specks of something invading the sky beginning to fall on his face.
Sir Scrant Earl Edwards lay there smiling.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The Boring Escapade
There had been so much commotion lately that Edwards forgot completley it was winter. Edwards awoke shivering, found that the warmest place in his apartment was the bathroom, and sat for a while in the bathtub. The water was initially warm, but he soon lost track of the temperature of it. It was not cold nor warm, it was just there and he was just in it. Edwards had no interest in getting out, and had no real way to get out, he was under the impression he was a cripple.
Earl decided to get out of the tub and get dressed. When he was done putting on his suit, he got into his wheel chair to wheel over to the pawnsop, Earl had important buisness to attend to. As he went in, he noticed that person he played poker with out for a jog.
Sir Earl Edwards initally pawned some of his books for some new ones, but decided to take the money and put it towards a new pocket watch, Earl's was broken.
As Earl was returning to thallow flats, he decided to leave the wheelchair at the base of the stairs. The elevator took to long, and the stairs were a much quicker option. Nothing exciting ever happened to Earl, and he was content with that. He hadn't touched any of his wine in a while, and felt no need to. Earl was focused on the problematic situation of being crippled. He climbed into bed to await another day, it never came. Earl could not go to sleep this night, he wanted to desperatley but he couldn't. The thought of 8 hours in a dark, dead city was not going to help Earl's current situation. Earl felt a strange chill in the air, it wasn't the normal cold that comes because there is no trace of sunlight. Earl did not know what it was, but he wanted it so badly to be gone he drank himself to sleep.
Earl decided to get out of the tub and get dressed. When he was done putting on his suit, he got into his wheel chair to wheel over to the pawnsop, Earl had important buisness to attend to. As he went in, he noticed that person he played poker with out for a jog.
Sir Earl Edwards initally pawned some of his books for some new ones, but decided to take the money and put it towards a new pocket watch, Earl's was broken.
As Earl was returning to thallow flats, he decided to leave the wheelchair at the base of the stairs. The elevator took to long, and the stairs were a much quicker option. Nothing exciting ever happened to Earl, and he was content with that. He hadn't touched any of his wine in a while, and felt no need to. Earl was focused on the problematic situation of being crippled. He climbed into bed to await another day, it never came. Earl could not go to sleep this night, he wanted to desperatley but he couldn't. The thought of 8 hours in a dark, dead city was not going to help Earl's current situation. Earl felt a strange chill in the air, it wasn't the normal cold that comes because there is no trace of sunlight. Earl did not know what it was, but he wanted it so badly to be gone he drank himself to sleep.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
5 years of hell; an enterity to go
Sir Edwards history ends here. There is nothing of importance in this dump to Earl. Nothing, nothing at all.
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Sir Edwards awoke and screamed like a threatened child. There was a man looming over him. This man Stared at him, more scared of Earl than Earl was of him.
"Could...you...please...move.", said the man tremibling wearing a pale white face.
It seemed as if this man had been waiting here since Earl was knocked unconcious, why didn't he simply walk around?
Earl tried to stand up, but couldn't. He had broken his knees during the charge. He simply grabbed onto a radiator and pulled himself out of the way of the scared man.
The man stepped cautiously up the stairs, as if he was calculating a strategy for tackling the stairs. Earl would have thought this unusual for someone, but he was drained of all his energy to care.
Scrant just now noticed the pain in his head and knew he would have to make the descent up the stairs to his second floor room. Just as Teddy Roosevelt had charged up San Juan hill, Sir Edwards would have to make it to the top, or he would suffer.
Earl pulled at the wood of the stairs and pushed himself up enought to grab onto the railing. He then, little by little, pulled himself up to the top. It was the most excruciating thing Edwards had ever done. Each step, a little more painful then the next, but if he stopped, he would not have the energy to continue. When he reached the top, he was gasping for elusive air. Edwards kept pulling himself across the floor still thinking he was crippled, and made it to his room. He hoisted himself into his bed and dozed off.
When he awoke, Roger was sitting in a chair reading one of his books.
"You were out for quite a bit, do you even remember what happened? First, yo-", and Roger told him all that had happened.
Earl thought that was the dumbest thing he had ever endured. Earl tried to get out of bed, and fell. Sir Edwards still did not have control of his own legs, and this event convinced Earl he was actually crippled.
"I suppose I shall invest in a wheelchair."
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Sir Edwards awoke and screamed like a threatened child. There was a man looming over him. This man Stared at him, more scared of Earl than Earl was of him.
"Could...you...please...move.", said the man tremibling wearing a pale white face.
It seemed as if this man had been waiting here since Earl was knocked unconcious, why didn't he simply walk around?
Earl tried to stand up, but couldn't. He had broken his knees during the charge. He simply grabbed onto a radiator and pulled himself out of the way of the scared man.
The man stepped cautiously up the stairs, as if he was calculating a strategy for tackling the stairs. Earl would have thought this unusual for someone, but he was drained of all his energy to care.
Scrant just now noticed the pain in his head and knew he would have to make the descent up the stairs to his second floor room. Just as Teddy Roosevelt had charged up San Juan hill, Sir Edwards would have to make it to the top, or he would suffer.
Earl pulled at the wood of the stairs and pushed himself up enought to grab onto the railing. He then, little by little, pulled himself up to the top. It was the most excruciating thing Edwards had ever done. Each step, a little more painful then the next, but if he stopped, he would not have the energy to continue. When he reached the top, he was gasping for elusive air. Edwards kept pulling himself across the floor still thinking he was crippled, and made it to his room. He hoisted himself into his bed and dozed off.
When he awoke, Roger was sitting in a chair reading one of his books.
"You were out for quite a bit, do you even remember what happened? First, yo-", and Roger told him all that had happened.
Earl thought that was the dumbest thing he had ever endured. Earl tried to get out of bed, and fell. Sir Edwards still did not have control of his own legs, and this event convinced Earl he was actually crippled.
"I suppose I shall invest in a wheelchair."
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Thallow Flats
After losing the game of roulette, Edwards walked out of the shading gambling ring saddened. A piece of news paper blew onto his shoe, about an incredibly cheap housing deal in America. Earl though this was fate and immediately found a ship to hide in that was heading to the new world. Earl awoke and found himself still on the ship and expecting to see a majestic view soon discovered that the new world had the same problems as the old world. Sir Edwards was not amused.
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Edwards crept into his room with the war journal he had just gotten from some owner or worker of the bookstore, he just as soon forgot their name as he had learnt it. Edwards was not a man to remember people's names, it was tedious task that he took no pleasure in.
As he opened the door Roger was sleeping on his bed.
"What in God's name are you doing here? Don't you have your own bed to sleep in? How did you even get in here?"
"Well, I don't personally own a room, and also you left the door open when you rushed out to go somewh--- Say, how was it?"
"Was it what?"
"You know, out. Mingling with the people. Meeting the citizens. Interacting with the---"
"I get your point roger. It was fine, now please leave."
After Roger was gone, Sir Edwards opened the War Journal and begun to examine it. He wondered why a book store owner had this, but he thought nothing more of it.
Expecting to find a lovely depiction of heroic escapades, he was immersed in the dirtiest trench known to man. Everybody in the trench had some sort of sickness. Some people suffered from mustard gas, others feet were in a most gruesome condition, and others had ghastly wounds bandaged up yet were still in the fight. Edwards at that point vomited a little in his mouth. He never realized how terrible war really was. While the rest of the world had been making laws so that terrible weapons could never be legally used, and created decades of anti-war films, Earl was in his little world reading novels romanticizing such acts.
How Scrant read tons of war novels but never once came across books such as All Quiet on the Western Front was a mystery in itself.
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Scrant walked into the Rare book shop and slammed the journal on the desk. He started to scream at the worker behind the desk, but his screaming made him sound like a nervous chicken bent on world destruction. He looked pathetic, and made an ass out of himself.
Scrant didn't feel comfortable anymore, and began to feel increasingly violent. He noticed a dirty Italian immigrant strolling on the sidewalk and kicked this man in the back of the knee. As soon as Edwards noticed that this man was stronger than him and very angry, Edwards engaged the "Russian Winter Evasive Maneuver" and ran as fast as he could to his apartment. Earl tripped up the set of apartment stairs and fell down into a wall. Edward arrived back at the world's dirtiest trench. A whistle just blew, signaling another pointless charge into the enemies trench. "Crap", thought Scrant.
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Edwards crept into his room with the war journal he had just gotten from some owner or worker of the bookstore, he just as soon forgot their name as he had learnt it. Edwards was not a man to remember people's names, it was tedious task that he took no pleasure in.
As he opened the door Roger was sleeping on his bed.
"What in God's name are you doing here? Don't you have your own bed to sleep in? How did you even get in here?"
"Well, I don't personally own a room, and also you left the door open when you rushed out to go somewh--- Say, how was it?"
"Was it what?"
"You know, out. Mingling with the people. Meeting the citizens. Interacting with the---"
"I get your point roger. It was fine, now please leave."
After Roger was gone, Sir Edwards opened the War Journal and begun to examine it. He wondered why a book store owner had this, but he thought nothing more of it.
Expecting to find a lovely depiction of heroic escapades, he was immersed in the dirtiest trench known to man. Everybody in the trench had some sort of sickness. Some people suffered from mustard gas, others feet were in a most gruesome condition, and others had ghastly wounds bandaged up yet were still in the fight. Edwards at that point vomited a little in his mouth. He never realized how terrible war really was. While the rest of the world had been making laws so that terrible weapons could never be legally used, and created decades of anti-war films, Earl was in his little world reading novels romanticizing such acts.
How Scrant read tons of war novels but never once came across books such as All Quiet on the Western Front was a mystery in itself.
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Scrant walked into the Rare book shop and slammed the journal on the desk. He started to scream at the worker behind the desk, but his screaming made him sound like a nervous chicken bent on world destruction. He looked pathetic, and made an ass out of himself.
Scrant didn't feel comfortable anymore, and began to feel increasingly violent. He noticed a dirty Italian immigrant strolling on the sidewalk and kicked this man in the back of the knee. As soon as Edwards noticed that this man was stronger than him and very angry, Edwards engaged the "Russian Winter Evasive Maneuver" and ran as fast as he could to his apartment. Earl tripped up the set of apartment stairs and fell down into a wall. Edward arrived back at the world's dirtiest trench. A whistle just blew, signaling another pointless charge into the enemies trench. "Crap", thought Scrant.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Apartment 205
Sir Edwards did have an abundance of wealth. He was living a good life until he thaught it wise to risk most of his money on the chance that a miniscule metal ball may possibly roll into a slot on a spinner. Yes, reader, you guessed it, Sir Edwards went broke on roulette. Sir Edwards had been living in the apartment 205 for 5 years since he had to leave the rich life. Thankfully he wasn't in debt to anyone, just flat broke. But Sir Edwards still held something above these poor cretins: Culture.
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Sir Edwards put down yet another novel that he had fiished and threw it into the pile to be burned for warmth. Sir Edwards hadn't payed the heating bill since last autumn, and suffered through last winter like a rich man without money. Earl decided that he would go out today, but not after a glass of wine from a bottle of the family's wine collection that he managed to take along with him. Immediatley as he opened the door, Roger immediatley appeared again.
"I'm really quite busy actually today, I actually have plans."
"Plans? I'm astounded really, is it a rocketship flight to the moon?"
"No, seriously I am going out."
Sir Edwards walked past Roger, turned the corner and in the corner of his eye saw that Roger had vanished. Sir Edwards thought nothing of it and decided to find something fun to do today. Earl left for the tavern that he had heard about when he first arrived from the Superintendent Frank.
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"Is there any decent place to get a drink here?"
"Decent as in cheap but poor quality, or decent 'you won't die of alchohol poisining ' decent?"
"Just where?"
"Just across the street. Remember monday is 'leave-your -wife-and -degenerate-sons-at-home-happy hour'."
"Um...Sure."
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Sir Edwards approached the grimey building and wandered inside. The trails of ciggerate smoke climbed into his nose and refused to leave. Earl immediatley ran out and clutched a brick wall, gasping for air. He coughed as the exhaust of a bus jumped into his lungs, and noticed someone walking to the back of the tavern. He heard the familiar sound as this man opened a door; the clinking of clay. Earl went to invistigate and found a backdoor poker game; the holy grail of seedy gambling.
Earl sat down at a table with 9 other men, one introduced himself but he was a twenty year old kid so Edwards payed no mind.
Sir Edwards was the only one able at the whol table to accumalte most of the money on the table in under an hour. Sir Edwards was also the only one at the table to lose such a chip stack in twenty minutes to the kid that had introduced himself.
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Edwards soon would take out yet another player, when he was playing the person that introduced himself. They were playing 5 card draw. Edwards had a two pair and bet all his chips on it to force this person out who had been playing garbage consistently. Little did Edwards know that he had trips. Earl just sat there and watched as his clay beauties were taken away from him little by little; the fall of a Roman Empire.
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Sir Edwards put down yet another novel that he had fiished and threw it into the pile to be burned for warmth. Sir Edwards hadn't payed the heating bill since last autumn, and suffered through last winter like a rich man without money. Earl decided that he would go out today, but not after a glass of wine from a bottle of the family's wine collection that he managed to take along with him. Immediatley as he opened the door, Roger immediatley appeared again.
"I'm really quite busy actually today, I actually have plans."
"Plans? I'm astounded really, is it a rocketship flight to the moon?"
"No, seriously I am going out."
Sir Edwards walked past Roger, turned the corner and in the corner of his eye saw that Roger had vanished. Sir Edwards thought nothing of it and decided to find something fun to do today. Earl left for the tavern that he had heard about when he first arrived from the Superintendent Frank.
--------------------------------------------------
"Is there any decent place to get a drink here?"
"Decent as in cheap but poor quality, or decent 'you won't die of alchohol poisining ' decent?"
"Just where?"
"Just across the street. Remember monday is 'leave-your -wife-and -degenerate-sons-at-home-happy hour'."
"Um...Sure."
---------------------------------------------------
Sir Edwards approached the grimey building and wandered inside. The trails of ciggerate smoke climbed into his nose and refused to leave. Earl immediatley ran out and clutched a brick wall, gasping for air. He coughed as the exhaust of a bus jumped into his lungs, and noticed someone walking to the back of the tavern. He heard the familiar sound as this man opened a door; the clinking of clay. Earl went to invistigate and found a backdoor poker game; the holy grail of seedy gambling.
Earl sat down at a table with 9 other men, one introduced himself but he was a twenty year old kid so Edwards payed no mind.
Sir Edwards was the only one able at the whol table to accumalte most of the money on the table in under an hour. Sir Edwards was also the only one at the table to lose such a chip stack in twenty minutes to the kid that had introduced himself.
------------------------------------------------------
Edwards soon would take out yet another player, when he was playing the person that introduced himself. They were playing 5 card draw. Edwards had a two pair and bet all his chips on it to force this person out who had been playing garbage consistently. Little did Edwards know that he had trips. Earl just sat there and watched as his clay beauties were taken away from him little by little; the fall of a Roman Empire.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Scrant Earl Edwards
Sir Edwards was of one of the richest family in England. Now his family riches have been reduced to a dilapidated apartment on the second floor of some building that he'd rather not talk about. Maybe it was unfortunate fate that his parents had one too many drinks at their numerous dinner parties, and maybe forgot that Sir Edwards existed, and maybe took 5 years until they named him, named him Scrant. Or maybe it was that his parents' car met the end of the ravine and it's name was instant death, and then he had to take care of himself at age 23. Being educated only on the life of welfare and parties, Scrant immediatley fell in love with culture. But fell a little too in love with books of heroes, drinking, and gambling. You should call Scrant Earl, he hates Scrant.
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Sir Edwards was immersed in a war. He had just been drafted and had no time to bid farewell to his fiance. Edwards was about to board the train to a world full of deadly green gas when he heard a dripping. Edwards looked up and saw that the Upstairs apartment floor was seeping water onto his recently polished floor. He sighed got up and began to attempt to fix the crack, Edwards hated this life. Roger was sitting in a corner as if he had always been there.
"What do you want at a terrible time like this?"
"Personally, I'm Bored Scrant, bored to the bone. What happened to the lively, the reckless Scrant? Now all I do is observe you entranced by a cheesy novel about some war. World War I is over, but you aren't."
" First, Nobody calls me Scrant. Secondly, I have no money, and besides what are you doing here anyways? You know as well as I do that you do not have to be here."
Sir Edwards woke up, and Roger had apparently left. He checked the time and left for the battlefield.
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Sir Edwards was immersed in a war. He had just been drafted and had no time to bid farewell to his fiance. Edwards was about to board the train to a world full of deadly green gas when he heard a dripping. Edwards looked up and saw that the Upstairs apartment floor was seeping water onto his recently polished floor. He sighed got up and began to attempt to fix the crack, Edwards hated this life. Roger was sitting in a corner as if he had always been there.
"What do you want at a terrible time like this?"
"Personally, I'm Bored Scrant, bored to the bone. What happened to the lively, the reckless Scrant? Now all I do is observe you entranced by a cheesy novel about some war. World War I is over, but you aren't."
" First, Nobody calls me Scrant. Secondly, I have no money, and besides what are you doing here anyways? You know as well as I do that you do not have to be here."
Sir Edwards woke up, and Roger had apparently left. He checked the time and left for the battlefield.
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