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Story time in NEIPville

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  • Story time in NEIPville

    Once upon a time...
    We are so fucked.

  • #2
    Originally posted by gary m View Post
    Once upon a time...
    ....a kind of sketchy character name of Lyman Bittern blew into our sleepy little town. Lyman had dog and that dog had three legs but that wasn't the funny thing about Lyman and his dog.
    "Alexa, slaughter the fatted calf."

    Comment


    • #3
      Originally posted by Gingersnap View Post
      ....a kind of sketchy character name of Lyman Bittern blew into our sleepy little town. Lyman had dog and that dog had three legs but that wasn't the funny thing about Lyman and his dog.
      Nor was it the fact that he was driving a Studebaker
      We are so fucked.

      Comment


      • #4
        It was a stolen Studebaker with a sweet two-tone paint job and a drunk hooker named Nancy in the backseat. But that wasn't the funny part, either.

        The funny part was that Lyman had made a promise.


        And he came to town to keep it.
        "Alexa, slaughter the fatted calf."

        Comment


        • #5
          Years before, when Lyman was just a child, something happened that changed his life and and he vowed he would make sure those responsible would pay
          We are so fucked.

          Comment


          • #6
            But first, he was going to visit Becky.
            Not where I breathe, but where I love, I live...
            Robert Southwell, S.J.

            Comment


            • #7
              Originally posted by gary m View Post
              Years before, when Lyman was just a child, something happened that changed his life and and he vowed he would make sure those responsible would pay
              Of course, nobody remembered what went on that grim November of 1962. Nobody "officially" remembered it. Not the sheriff, not the school, and not the good people living at the end of Bird's Eye road. Especially not them.

              But Lyman remembered and the hooker was backing him up even if she wasn't born back then and the dog - the dog knew things. That damn dog had the look in his eyes of relentless justice.
              "Alexa, slaughter the fatted calf."

              Comment


              • #8
                And Becky remembered. How could she not? It was her turning Lyman down at the sock hop that set the events in motion. The events that caused Lyman's insomnia for the last 41 years.
                We are so fucked.

                Comment


                • #9
                  Sure, Becky was part of it - maybe Becky was the heart of it, if there was a heart. If Becky had a heart.

                  Lyman and the dog walked up the street. A lot had changed and yet nothing had changed. New stores, new signs and old scores and old wounds were still behind every door. Becky had done alright for a votech kid.

                  'Rebecca Sanderson Real Estate' was etched in the plate glass window and several very nice cars were nosing up to the curb. Lyman resisted the impulse to peer inside. Time for that later.

                  He and the dog headed to a place that hadn't changed a bit: the notorious Blue Note. He was pretty sure that the dog wouldn't be a problem if the dog bought a shot.
                  "Alexa, slaughter the fatted calf."

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    On his way up to the bar, he took a look at the old juke box, same one he remembered. Hell, "Maggie May" was still at B6, same as the day he left town.
                    Next, he took a look at the old photos that still hung on the wall. There they were. Joe, the old drunk that always sat at the bar next to the waitress stand.
                    Pete and Jimmy, high school football heroes and best buds. Jerry, the greaser, standing next to his prized Norton Commando.

                    He went up to the bar and pulled up a stool. "I'll have a JD straight. The dog wants tequila. Don't matter what kind, he's not fussy".
                    We are so fucked.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Jason the bartender didn't get it but Hank, Roy, and the John they called 'Little Lefty' sure did. Roy's bank shot lazed to a stop as the men recognized Lyman's voice. They didn't recognize the dog but there was always a dog so that hadn't changed.

                      Lulu Jean hadn't changed much either and she flew at Lyman like a shot from a gun.

                      "My God! You haven't changed a bit, you old horse!"

                      She clutched him a move that any pro wrestler would have been proud to claim.

                      "That's a new dog," she noticed. "But that's the same jacket you had in high school. Drinks on the house tonight," she said eye-balling a gawking Jason who had never seen Lulu so worked up outside of robberies.

                      "Free for the dog, too," she added. "We need to talk - in the my office. Now."
                      "Alexa, slaughter the fatted calf."

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        "Grab a seat. I never thought I'd see you again" said Lulu Jean in a way that had Lyman wondering if it was a greeting, a wish or... a threat. "What brings you back to town?"
                        Lyman downed the shot. You actually have to ask that, he thought. "Just passing through" he replied.
                        "Bullshit" laughed Lulu Jean. "Nobody just passes through Caseville, you in particular. So is it business or personal?"
                        "Business"
                        It may have been business, but both of them knew. This was personal.
                        We are so fucked.

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          The story so far...

                          Once upon a time a kind of sketchy character name of Lyman Bittern blew into our sleepy little town. Lyman had dog and that dog had three legs but that wasn't the funny thing about Lyman and his dog. Nor was it the fact that he was driving a Studebaker.

                          It was a stolen Studebaker with a sweet two-tone paint job and a drunk hooker named Nancy in the backseat. But that wasn't the funny part, either.

                          The funny part was that Lyman had made a promise.

                          And he came to town to keep it. Years before, when Lyman was just a child, something happened that changed his life and and he vowed he would make sure those responsible would pay.

                          But first, he was going to visit Becky.

                          Of course, nobody remembered what went on that grim November of 1962. Nobody "officially" remembered it. Not the sheriff, not the school, and not the good people living at the end of Bird's Eye road. Especially not them. But Lyman remembered and the hooker was backing him up even if she wasn't born back then and the dog - the dog knew things. That damn dog had the look in his eyes of relentless justice.

                          And Becky remembered. How could she not? It was her turning Lyman down at the sock hop that set the events in motion. The events that caused Lyman's insomnia for the last 41 years. Sure, Becky was part of it - maybe Becky was the heart of it, if there was a heart. If Becky had a heart.

                          Lyman and the dog walked up the street. A lot had changed and yet nothing had changed. New stores, new signs and old scores and old wounds were still behind every door. Becky had done alright for a votech kid. 'Rebecca Sanderson Real Estate' was etched in the plate glass window and several very nice cars were nosing up to the curb. Lyman resisted the impulse to peer inside. Time for that later.

                          He and the dog headed to a place that hadn't changed a bit: the notorious Blue Note. He was pretty sure that the dog wouldn't be a problem if the dog bought a shot.

                          On his way up to the bar, he took a look at the old juke box, same one he remembered. Hell, "Maggie May" was still at B6, same as the day he left town. Next, he took a look at the old photos that still hung on the wall. There they were. Joe, the old drunk that always sat at the bar next to the waitress stand. Pete and Jimmy, high school football heroes and best buds. Jerry, the greaser, standing next to his prized Norton Commando.

                          He went up to the bar and pulled up a stool. "I'll have a JD straight. The dog wants tequila. Don't matter what kind, he's not fussy".

                          Jason the bartender didn't get it but Hank, Roy, and the John they called 'Little Lefty' sure did. Roy's bank shot lazed to a stop as the men recognized Lyman's voice. They didn't recognize the dog but there was always a dog so that hadn't changed.

                          Lulu Jean hadn't changed much either and she flew at Lyman like a shot from a gun.

                          "My God! You haven't changed a bit, you old horse!" She clutched him a move that any pro wrestler would have been proud to claim.

                          "That's a new dog," she noticed. "But that's the same jacket you had in high school. Drinks on the house tonight," she said eye-balling a gawking Jason who had never seen Lulu so worked up outside of robberies.

                          "Free for the dog, too," she added. "We need to talk - in the my office. Now."

                          "Grab a seat. I never thought I'd see you again" said Lulu Jean in a way that had Lyman wondering if it was a greeting, a wish or... a threat. "What brings you back to town?"

                          Lyman downed the shot. You actually have to ask that, he thought. "Just passing through" he replied.

                          "Bullshit" laughed Lulu Jean. "Nobody just passes through Caseville, you in particular. So is it business or personal?"

                          "Business."

                          It may have been business, but both of them knew. This was personal.
                          Last edited by Gingersnap; Friday, November 8, 2013, 7:44 PM. Reason: A touch of paragraph realignment.
                          We are so fucked.

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            Excellent recap job, Gary.
                            "Alexa, slaughter the fatted calf."

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              Lulu Jean felt the moisture forming in a spot many lessor humans might refer to as a camel toe. She knew the feeling from years before. She tried her best to suppress those memories but since that trip to Vegas and the innocent agreement to be hypnotized by that seedy act at the Palace the memories flooded back. Similar to a sewer overflowing.
                              Last edited by Frostbit; Saturday, November 9, 2013, 12:32 AM.
                              If it pays, it stays

                              Comment

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