Post by John Smith on Mar 20, 2007 0:13:24 GMT 1
Half closed tired eyes staring empty at the sailing floor. Mixed sounds making it past his earlobe and creates a sensation of drunken bliss in the youths mind. Apparently drunk. Apparently high. Or neither at all. His wavering gaze went up and scouted the area, the lights random blinking irritated his eyes. The people dancing were like shadows and their movements were in slow motion because of the fast, random, blinking light. The people, or cannon fodder, danced in their own powerful and fast paced dancing, that the light made even more powerful. The gaze continued its way across the floor, some girls danced in a close group, boys trying to break the group apart so they could seize the individual girls with ease. Suddenly the drunken boy started to move. His feet dragging him slowly across the floor, his feet stumbling more than once, people laughing, others bumping into him, it made him falter and stumble even more. His heavy and clumsy feet brought him ever closer to the wall far away.
He had a drink in his hand, one that amazingly hadn’t lost a single drop of fluid so far. Not even the drunk boy had taken a drink of it. If he did, he might soon end up staining the floor. He managed to reach the dance floor where people seemed to take little notice he was there, that was until he stumbled into someone and most of the beer in his glass was spilled all over him. On his clothes and bare arms and neck and so on. It was a relatively young man. He had an honest job, with some dishonest side effects at times. Like beating kids into submission.
He was a Student Dean at Hircine High. Anders apologized with mumbling and raised his arms to show he was sorry. The man brushed him off as it was nothing before he headed off for the toilet to see if he could salvage any of his clothing. In the mean time, Anders stumbled his way to the exit. Once out in the fresh air. His bent forward body and stumbling vanished instantly and he walked away normally. His eyes on full alert again. He was paranoid, and his logical thought was that the student dean would follow him to get even. But Anders would just have to run, sooner or later the student dean would die from the lethal dose of cyanide Anders had injected into him the short moment they had stumbled into each other.
No one breaks my collar bone and gets away with it… Bitch. Your daughter is going to become my personal slut. Your wife, eaten alive by sharks at the marina. Entertaining himself with these thoughts until he reached the safety of his home. A perfect murder, and no would or could bust him for it.
He had a drink in his hand, one that amazingly hadn’t lost a single drop of fluid so far. Not even the drunk boy had taken a drink of it. If he did, he might soon end up staining the floor. He managed to reach the dance floor where people seemed to take little notice he was there, that was until he stumbled into someone and most of the beer in his glass was spilled all over him. On his clothes and bare arms and neck and so on. It was a relatively young man. He had an honest job, with some dishonest side effects at times. Like beating kids into submission.
He was a Student Dean at Hircine High. Anders apologized with mumbling and raised his arms to show he was sorry. The man brushed him off as it was nothing before he headed off for the toilet to see if he could salvage any of his clothing. In the mean time, Anders stumbled his way to the exit. Once out in the fresh air. His bent forward body and stumbling vanished instantly and he walked away normally. His eyes on full alert again. He was paranoid, and his logical thought was that the student dean would follow him to get even. But Anders would just have to run, sooner or later the student dean would die from the lethal dose of cyanide Anders had injected into him the short moment they had stumbled into each other.
No one breaks my collar bone and gets away with it… Bitch. Your daughter is going to become my personal slut. Your wife, eaten alive by sharks at the marina. Entertaining himself with these thoughts until he reached the safety of his home. A perfect murder, and no would or could bust him for it.