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Post by Triana Longfellow on Jul 8, 2009 12:57:09 GMT -5
You Scream I Scream We All Scream For Ice Cream
"I sure could go for a corndog right about now." Stated a voice with a loud sigh. An audible growl could be heard from the girl's stomach as she dragged her feet through the grass. "Yeah yeah the corndog." she snapped at her angry stomach. The girl hadn't eaten in a few days and it was beginning to take it's toll on her body. Wiping her black, matted hair off her forehead, she looked up to see a camper only a few yards off. From this location she caught a whiff of a greasy smelling eatery. Most people would have been immediately put off by the smell of carnival food but for Triana it was her life sustenance. She'd grown up off of corndogs, funnel cakes, lemonade and shaved ice. It took a lot of self control for her not to break out in a run towards the camper so she stood up straight, took a deep breath and began marching forward until she reached the camper.
Peeking her head inside she called "Hello?" Where was everyone? Did people who ran eateries take lunch breaks? Triana could smell the food and the aroma was intoxicating...she was so scathingly hungry. Her dark brown eyes scanned the interior of the place and she could see the grill and vats of oil for frying foods. And then her eyes landed on a small freezer which she imagined held wrapped frozen treats such as popsicles or drumsticks. She stared at the freezer for what seemed like an eternity, battling her conscience on whether to sneak a treat or two. "I'm sure no one would really miss just one...." she spoke softly "And besides...I can just pay them back once I get a job...." A ferocious growl from her aching stomach sealed the deal, she would take only one of the freezer's contents and that would be that.
As quietly as possible Triana opened the camper's screen door and stepped in. It seemed a bit rickety but it smelled so delectable she didn't seem to care how loud and creaky the camper itself was, or that she let the door slam behind her. She scurried to the freezer and opened it. Sure enough it was full to brimming with wrapped dairy products. Freezepops, fudgecicles, indivicually wrapped ice cream cones...they all looked so good. Triana hastily grabbed something brightly wrapped and tore off its paper, inside was a chocolate cone with raspberry ice cream. Triana quickly devoured the ice cream in only a few bites, pausing only when she got brain freeze. Surely they wouldn't mind if she had just one more?
With a contented sigh Triana leaned back against the freezer. Fifteen minutes had passed and she'd eaten almost everything frozen or prepackaged. Rubbing her happy belly, Triana leaned over and promptly fell asleep on the carpeting back to the freezer, face to the door. "I'll only sleep for a moment..." was the last thing she said before dozing into a dream state.
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J.D. Clover
New Member
because everyone likes to see something blow up once in awhile.
Posts: 8
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Post by J.D. Clover on Jul 10, 2009 22:28:00 GMT -5
At the moment, there was one concern.
With but two uppers hoisting up his system, a streaming cigarette in hand, and the last bit of alcoholic condensation on his lips tongued desperately from the bottle after leaving his brandy exposed to the Topeka sun, he was uncharacteristically practical in saving his last several amphetamines for the show, but very true to form, scrounging for something to trade in to acquire more. J.D. had already picked the pocket of one of our Dear Dear Tourists, lucking out with a twenty and a five; which he had promptly wadded up and shoved into his pocket with the pennies, nickels, and increasingly rare dimes and quarters he would find himself lucky enough to spot abandoned on the ground. His job left little to support his indulgences; therefore he worked part-time as a petty thief and shameless mooch.
He’d never dream of stealing from a cash register; no, there were alarms on some of them, and he wouldn’t dare risk getting caught – he was not naturally athletic and while his small, lithe figure (topping out at five feet eight inches) allowed him to run quickly, he was purely a sprinter, and if any authorities thought it important enough to chase him long enough, he would putter out and most certainly be arrested. So, as a sharp man-boy, J.D. learned quickly how to pick pockets and not be noticed, even when the victim got home they’d assume they’d spent those few dollars and lost the receipt. To resist the present temptation to steal in excess, which would bring notice to his crime when the victim next opened his wallet, he took to stealing with the motto “quantity over quality”; taking less money from more people. Nabbing one dollar from ten people a day equated to ten dollars; and with J.D.’s addictive personality, it usually ended up being twenty people, and he would sometimes find himself with a five or a ten-dollar bill, which raised his profits even higher. It was debatable, even to J.D., whether he made more money from the job he was given a legal salary for, or the extra “tips” he plucked from unwitting patrons. As for mooching, he’d long stopped asking for money from his parents; partly because he hadn’t gotten the hell outta dodge (or Wembley suburb) to ring it up frequently for financial favors. And partly because he knew they’d refuse. J.D. was somewhat a “ran away to the circus” case; but he didn’t do it because he had a horrible childhood or an abusive home or parents who “just didn’t understand”. His boyhood (which by most standards was not yet over at his current nineteen years old) was a pleasant mix of surf music and mischief and theatrical entertainment for any audience he could find, willing or not. He joined the circus to escape the monotony. J.D. may have been the worst case of undiagnosed ADHD the world had ever seen; the need to be constantly on the move constantly creating problems which finally peaked themselves into alcoholism and drug addiction. But hell – who wasn’t on speed these days.
He peered curiously over the counter of Corny’s traveling booth, seeing if the greasy cookie had left any change lying around; and indeed he had, no bills, but several quarters, which J.D. (after sweeping the area with a back and forth shift of his dark, gleaming eyes) fingered up expertly into his palm and into his pocket. But something caught his gaze – a girl by the freezer? His thick brows lifted in surprise. “By gum,” he whispered bemusedly to himself. “Looks like old Corny’s finally gone postal.” But as he watched closer, the subtle rise and fall of the girl’s chest confirmed his initial suspicion fortunately false. He stood watching her for a moment, quite unsure of what to do. He could leave her. She looked peacefully asleep. But if Corny came in? J.D. wasn’t sure what the reaction would be – but his mind played it as being unpleasant. He could get caught with that smidgeon of Corny’s tip change. But really, no one misses change. He vaulted over the counter and landed with a muffled thud on the musty floor of the camper. His eyes welled up; the aroma of oil and grease was thick enough to be cut with a butterknife and served on toast. He wiped them on the back of his hand and crawled on his knees to the lady. He observed her while he could, while she was asleep; she was a pretty girl, petite and exotic looking. Certainly not the type of girl J.D. would pass up a night with; and he grinned slightly at this realization. But he hadn’t set himself on picking her up; he’d set himself on waking her up. Still on his knees, he sat up like a meerkat, bright-eyed and, though hovering slightly over her, giving off no malice whatsoever. “Hello,” he whispered urgently; putting his hand gently on her shoulder. “You seem t've dozed off, dear girl; now would be a great time to wake up!”
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