At 6:50 Emilio turned his motorcycle out of the parking lot and headed towards the apartment complex. It had just begun to pour down rain, so he drove carefully trying to avoid the pigeon poop and rain puddles that threatened to make his tires slip. As he turned onto Calloway, a black cat darted in front of him.
Well luckily, I don't believe in bad luck. In Britain, black cats are a good thing...
He narrowly avoided running over the pour creature, but failed to see the giant open manhole that was spewing sewage like he once spewed his stomach contents of pasta and red wine during his last birthday in Italy. Quickly turning to the left and breaking to avoid the ominous hole, Emilio flew over the handlebars of his motorcycle. The box flew off of the back of the bike.
"NOOOO!!!!" Emilio cried as he clumsily tried to catch the precious container.
The box landed with a loud "SPLLLAAAACKKK" in the muddy, pigeon poop filled puddle to the side of the manhole.
"Oh dear God," Emilio said in relief, but just as he said it a runner turned the corner and almost stepped on the box. Moving quickly to the side, the runner stopped in mid-run and bent down towards Emilio.
"You ok there, bud?" he asked warmly, reaching out his hand to help the Italian up. Just as he did this, he lost his balance on the pavement and fell into the street.
"Whoops! Well, I'm alright!" The runner grinned, and just as he was getting up, bus #52's breaks did not work in time and ran him over right in front of Emilio's eyes.
Emilio stood up in shock and quickly called 911 as a crowd began to form on Calloway.
"What happened?"
"Is he alright?"
"Somebody see if he's still alive!"
Emilio gave the address, described what had happened and hung up the phone. He leaned down to pick up his box, restarted his motorcycle, and began slowly driving home, still in shock from what he had just witnessed. Above his head, he heard the caw of a crow and a folded sheet of paper landed in front of him. He stopped his bike, leaned down, retrieved the note and slowly unfolded it.
YOU ARE IN DANGER. TRUST NO ONE. It read.
Emilio looked up and saw the crow flying towards a frail woman who was peering down at him from the roof top garden.
What's her problem?
He revved his engine and sped quickly out of her sight into the parking garage beside the apartment complex.
"Well today has been quite an interesting day," Emilio muttered, and with that, he parked and made his way upstairs to cook dinner and watch some TV.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
2- The Box
The gruff voiced man stood up from his chair, surprisingly smaller and shorter than Emilio had pictured.
"Follow me," he grumbled.
Leading Emilio, the man went through a door behind him and entered another dimly lit room where four men were sitting at a table smoking cigars, drinking scotch, and playing poker. Five barely dressed girls sat in various positions on their laps, next to their chairs and on the table watching the game intently. No one looked up as Emilio and the gruff voiced man approached them.
"Do you have the box?" he grumbled deeply.
Emilio looked from face to face at the group playing cards, wondering who GVM could be talking to. A large man wearing African garments pushed his chair back and lifted the young girl off his lap, placing her back in the chair as he got up.
"Come," he spoke with a thick Nigerian accent.
The Nigerian man moved over to a cabinet, which he opened slowly, revealing at least 30 guns of different shapes and sizes. He moved some to the side and reached down, bringing out a medium sized box, which he handed to Emilio.
"What's this?" Emilio began to pick off the tape that sealed the box shut.
"STOP! Wait until you go back to your home. Then when you get there you can see what your task is," GVM quickly grumbled, "Now you most go. We have things to do."
Emilio was led back to the front room and showed to the door, which was quickly locked behind him as he stepped outside. As he made his way over to his motorcycle, he heard a crow caw over his head.
"Damn birds..." he muttered, "They're such a nuisance."
He strapped the precious, mysterious box on to his bike, once again looking from left to right, making sure no one was watching him. He put on his helmet and drove away quickly, heading back to his apartment to discover what had been assigned to him and how he would manage to carry it out.
Little did he know, someone had been watching him. The bird named Koraki witnessed it all, and he quickly flew back to his beloved Corbie with much to tell her. Flying up to the roof top garden where she sat watching people go by, he landed by her side.
"Koraki, what happened?" Corbie quickly asked when she noticed how distressed the bird looked.
"Follow me," he grumbled.
Leading Emilio, the man went through a door behind him and entered another dimly lit room where four men were sitting at a table smoking cigars, drinking scotch, and playing poker. Five barely dressed girls sat in various positions on their laps, next to their chairs and on the table watching the game intently. No one looked up as Emilio and the gruff voiced man approached them.
"Do you have the box?" he grumbled deeply.
Emilio looked from face to face at the group playing cards, wondering who GVM could be talking to. A large man wearing African garments pushed his chair back and lifted the young girl off his lap, placing her back in the chair as he got up.
"Come," he spoke with a thick Nigerian accent.
The Nigerian man moved over to a cabinet, which he opened slowly, revealing at least 30 guns of different shapes and sizes. He moved some to the side and reached down, bringing out a medium sized box, which he handed to Emilio.
"What's this?" Emilio began to pick off the tape that sealed the box shut.
"STOP! Wait until you go back to your home. Then when you get there you can see what your task is," GVM quickly grumbled, "Now you most go. We have things to do."
Emilio was led back to the front room and showed to the door, which was quickly locked behind him as he stepped outside. As he made his way over to his motorcycle, he heard a crow caw over his head.
"Damn birds..." he muttered, "They're such a nuisance."
He strapped the precious, mysterious box on to his bike, once again looking from left to right, making sure no one was watching him. He put on his helmet and drove away quickly, heading back to his apartment to discover what had been assigned to him and how he would manage to carry it out.
Little did he know, someone had been watching him. The bird named Koraki witnessed it all, and he quickly flew back to his beloved Corbie with much to tell her. Flying up to the roof top garden where she sat watching people go by, he landed by her side.
"Koraki, what happened?" Corbie quickly asked when she noticed how distressed the bird looked.
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