http://www.votemayor.com/?p=309Elected Command: Bonk! + Yoink!“Oi sir, look ‘ere!” exclaims Titus, sharpening his finger towards the muggy sky.
“Huh?” mutters Sammy, head titling upward. Clasping the dinged bat with both malnourished hands, Tiny Titus deftly swings the club behind his scruffy head; ready to swing without prejudice onto Sammy’s enticing noggin.
A blink before the dastardly deed, Titus freezes. Sammy has bent his head further back; now face to perpendicularly opposite face with the poised street urchin.
“What’cha doin’, oh vertically challenged pal ‘o mine?” coolly asks Sammy, poker faced.
“BON-“ cries out Titus, thrust swiftly interrupted by Sammy’s physically superior grasp embracing the club’s handle. Unflinching, Titus reactively releases his weakened hold upon the dinged bat, sending Sammy into an unexpected balancing act.
Opportunistically, Titus shifts, placing his left prosthetic leg cleanly upon the inexpensive seat cushion. Countering the identifiable perplexed Sammy, Titus sportingly rises, violently spinning his right thigh into Sammy’s drooping jawline.
Further twirling, Titus expertly shifts his weight alongside the continued momentum, connecting his right iron prosthetic into Sammy’s awaiting spinal column. Limply, Sammy rolls onto the alleyway’s dew soaked cobble brick. Forcefully plopping back down, Titus leans fully forward, commandeering the Punky Princess’s smudged handle bars.
“Yoink!” blurts out Titus, speedily accelerating the battered motoscooter toward the elevated route. He cannot certainly determine, but he believes he may be hearing Sammy’s distinctive laughter, before being promptly drowned out by the Princess’s chugging engine and ever increasing distance.
The exhilarating rush of a newly minted score folds over the guttersnipe’s mind. Commie Mafioso no longer in view, an equalizing calm assures Titus, devilish smile drawn. Thoughts racing, he centers on the imposing yet profitable orders given to him not hours before, now accomplished with flawless aplomb.
His final task, to return with prized revelation in hand, lay pristine before him. Yet…
Speeding into view, a mountain of a man adorned with a top hat, accompanying that old geezer, Uncle Gonzo.
Surely, one more job this morning couldn’t hurt?
Commands: 1. Yoink! from motoscooter.
2. Stop ‘n Yoink!
3. Ride on, ride on.
4. Return to Sammy.
Voting ends in 48 hours.
Poll
4 (26.7%)
Author
Topic: The Mayor - Chapter 20 - Pal 'O Mine (Read 2365 times)