The money. There was no money.
That meant no food.
"I'm sorry," creaked the old man-woman-thing. "But I can't just give away free sandwiches!"
Maximus threw a dramatic hand to his brow, opening his mouth to spout off some words of self-pity, but instead his hand wacked Estabon square in the face, making him fall, and thus resulting in Maximus falling as well.
Pedro, Wagon, and the man-woman-thing all stared at the pitiful heap of limbs and such that lay on the ground. Pedro turned to the man-woman-thing.
"So... no food?"
It shook its head. "No, I'm sorry."
Without warning, Pedro knocked the man-woman-thing out cold with a sudden blow from his shield.
Wagon had to do a double take.
"Wha-- did you just knock that lady... man... thing... out cold???"
Pedro beamed with pride. "Now we get sandwiches!!!"
Estabon was standing now, holding a hand to his head where he had been so rudely smacked, when Maximus pulled himself upright by pulling Estabon back down.
"You mean, we won't STARVE!!!???" Maximus looked like a girl who had just been proposed to by the man of her dreams.
Wagon helped Estabon upright again. Estabon smiled dazed-like. "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush..."
Pedro nodded gravely. "Agreed, Estabon." His frown turned upside-down. "LET'S EAT!!!!!!"
In the sandwich store, there was more ham and turkey and bread than any of the four imagined existed in the world. They dived on the food, eating with scant regard for manors or words, including even Maximus. They had been devouring the food for quite some time when Wagon stood up, a jar in his hands. The other three halted in their trenching to look too.
"Is that..." Pedro pointed at the jar.
"Mustard." Wagon said.
Suddenly, all of them began to feel the ham and turkey and bread alone was much too bland. They felt the need for condiments. All eyes fell onto the jar hungrily.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend..." Estabon muttered.
It was like a signal. EVERYONE dived for the jar. Wagon almost immediately had it slip from his grasp and into the air. Eight hands knocked it off its upright course, and it ended up smashing on the back wall.
They all stared as the yellow substance dripped down the wall. Maximus turned to Wagon, about to place the blame, when there was an ominous rumbled.
The wall on which the mustard had smashed began to open apart. Four pairs of eyes widened beyond saucer-size.
In the hidden room was rows and rows of mustard, ketchup, mayo, relish, every type of condiment there was. Oh yeah, and behind that was over millions of pounds of gold that the now unconscious man-woman-thing had been saving.
But the four dived on the condiments, on a sacred and frantic mission to unblandify their food.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
In which Holy Sandwiches saves the day
It was unnaturally hot that fine day in March, and our ragtag group of misfits were braving the heat in the most undesirable way. Instead of lazing about in a cold room or swimming in a disgusting pond as they wished they were, they were out and about, searching for the entrence to the Underworld.
Yet as they came unprepared (Maximus blamed Estaban, as usual, despite the quiet man's insistence that they bring food; "Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it"), they were already exhausted despite only being about 1/100000 into their journey.
"Wh-where do. . . you suppose. . . we go to find. . . food?" Pedro panted, his long legs barely holding him up. Though he was dead, he still liked a nice hot bowl of chili whenever it was available. Wagon, who still had yet to take off that stifling black cloak, shrugged weakly, too exhausted to speak.
Maximus had long ago given up to keep up his pompous, know-it-all manner and was struggling behind the rest of them. However, he caught wind of Pedro's question and saw Wagon's response. Devasted, he whined, "But I'm HUNGRY!"
"Shut up." Wagon had no tolerance for whiners. It was a miracle that he had restrained himself from strangling the self-proclaimed leader before, but now the idea of Maximus' "accidental" death was looking quite friendly to the young man.
"Look! A sandwich place!" How a pathetic looking sandwich shop was in the middle of literally nowhere in Greece, we shall never know. Yet as the other's looked in the direction of Pedro's bony and desperate pointer finger and saw what he had seen, their euphoria was evident on their sweaty faces. The Gods had decided to bless them with Holy Sandwiches!
They all ran (or dragged) themselves towards the small shop with the sign stating it as HOLY SANDWICHES. As Pedro had the longest legs, he got there sooner. "I would like a sandwich sir! Madam! Whatever!" The wrinkled thing standing at the counter didn't look like a sir or a madam, but it didn't seem to take offense. "Ham or turkey?" It creaked, it's voice sounding like sandpaper scraping against more sandpaper.
"Ham!" Wagon had supported himself against the side of the counter at this point and said, "Turkey. . . please. . ." Maximus and Estaban finally arrived now, Estaban practically carrying the drama queen as said drama queen wheezed, "Turkey." as if he were the one carrying another.
"What about you Estaban? You want ham or turkey?" Estaban looked at Wagon and said, "To be or not to be, that is the question."
They were all dumbfounded, including their new friend It. "Wait, was that turkey or was that ham?" Wagon looked perplexed, as for once he could not dicipher his friend's message.
"You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink."
". . ."
"Behind every great man is a woman."
". . ."
"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you will land among the stars."
". . . You know what? Let's just have two turkeys and two hams."
Estaban looked positively alarmed at this. Wagon backtracked. "Three turkeys and one ham!"
At his friends relieved look, Pedro nodded. "Yes."
It creaked, "That will 7 dollars, young men."
"Alright. Estaban, where's the money? Estaban? Estaban. . .? . . . There is no money, is there?"
Yet as they came unprepared (Maximus blamed Estaban, as usual, despite the quiet man's insistence that they bring food; "Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it"), they were already exhausted despite only being about 1/100000 into their journey.
"Wh-where do. . . you suppose. . . we go to find. . . food?" Pedro panted, his long legs barely holding him up. Though he was dead, he still liked a nice hot bowl of chili whenever it was available. Wagon, who still had yet to take off that stifling black cloak, shrugged weakly, too exhausted to speak.
Maximus had long ago given up to keep up his pompous, know-it-all manner and was struggling behind the rest of them. However, he caught wind of Pedro's question and saw Wagon's response. Devasted, he whined, "But I'm HUNGRY!"
"Shut up." Wagon had no tolerance for whiners. It was a miracle that he had restrained himself from strangling the self-proclaimed leader before, but now the idea of Maximus' "accidental" death was looking quite friendly to the young man.
"Look! A sandwich place!" How a pathetic looking sandwich shop was in the middle of literally nowhere in Greece, we shall never know. Yet as the other's looked in the direction of Pedro's bony and desperate pointer finger and saw what he had seen, their euphoria was evident on their sweaty faces. The Gods had decided to bless them with Holy Sandwiches!
They all ran (or dragged) themselves towards the small shop with the sign stating it as HOLY SANDWICHES. As Pedro had the longest legs, he got there sooner. "I would like a sandwich sir! Madam! Whatever!" The wrinkled thing standing at the counter didn't look like a sir or a madam, but it didn't seem to take offense. "Ham or turkey?" It creaked, it's voice sounding like sandpaper scraping against more sandpaper.
"Ham!" Wagon had supported himself against the side of the counter at this point and said, "Turkey. . . please. . ." Maximus and Estaban finally arrived now, Estaban practically carrying the drama queen as said drama queen wheezed, "Turkey." as if he were the one carrying another.
"What about you Estaban? You want ham or turkey?" Estaban looked at Wagon and said, "To be or not to be, that is the question."
They were all dumbfounded, including their new friend It. "Wait, was that turkey or was that ham?" Wagon looked perplexed, as for once he could not dicipher his friend's message.
"You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink."
". . ."
"Behind every great man is a woman."
". . ."
"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you will land among the stars."
". . . You know what? Let's just have two turkeys and two hams."
Estaban looked positively alarmed at this. Wagon backtracked. "Three turkeys and one ham!"
At his friends relieved look, Pedro nodded. "Yes."
It creaked, "That will 7 dollars, young men."
"Alright. Estaban, where's the money? Estaban? Estaban. . .? . . . There is no money, is there?"
Friday, January 7, 2011
Name: Pedro
Age: 15 at death, now immortal
Occupation: Apprentice to Maximus in his former life. No job currently in the life after death
Appearence: He's taller than most, with long limbs and rather skinny. Despite this, he has an unnatural strength for someone whose frame resembles a tooth-pick, possibly due to his freakish reincarnation. He has dark brown hair, and used to have bright blue eyes but now has pale, almost white, blue eyes. Usually represented as a stick figure with long arms and legs, with an arrow poking out of the side of his head.
Personality: Before his rather untimely death, he was a bold fellow, who liked to speak his mind and respond to things in a rather witty and sarcastic way. Yet after he got shot with an arrow from the Roman Catholic Church, died and was reincarnated, he became a rather paranoid sort of person. He is now the type of person who acts on impulse, and likes to hit people over the head with a "comfort" shield (that was supposedly his father's) for the oddest reasons. He's terrified of arrows, and will go to any lengths to avoid them, even if they're simply an arrow on a compass.
Reason for Death: He agreed with Maximus' "radical ideas" about the universe, and was overheard by the Church. He was shot with an arrow for going against the Church, while Maximus was spared.
Age: 15 at death, now immortal
Occupation: Apprentice to Maximus in his former life. No job currently in the life after death
Appearence: He's taller than most, with long limbs and rather skinny. Despite this, he has an unnatural strength for someone whose frame resembles a tooth-pick, possibly due to his freakish reincarnation. He has dark brown hair, and used to have bright blue eyes but now has pale, almost white, blue eyes. Usually represented as a stick figure with long arms and legs, with an arrow poking out of the side of his head.
Personality: Before his rather untimely death, he was a bold fellow, who liked to speak his mind and respond to things in a rather witty and sarcastic way. Yet after he got shot with an arrow from the Roman Catholic Church, died and was reincarnated, he became a rather paranoid sort of person. He is now the type of person who acts on impulse, and likes to hit people over the head with a "comfort" shield (that was supposedly his father's) for the oddest reasons. He's terrified of arrows, and will go to any lengths to avoid them, even if they're simply an arrow on a compass.
Reason for Death: He agreed with Maximus' "radical ideas" about the universe, and was overheard by the Church. He was shot with an arrow for going against the Church, while Maximus was spared.
It was a gloomy day in the village of Bos. The sky had turned grey. It was inevitable that it would soon rain.
The villagers of Bos had brought their cows in from the fields. They hid indoors and locked themselves out of harms way. The dirt streets lay deserted.
Except for one boy.
He was short for fourteen. He wore a black cloak that was obviously too big for him. His ruddy brown hair fell over his eyes, as if soaked. In fact, you couldn't even see his eyes. A frown was pasted on his pale features; a look of neutrality for the boy.
He stood in the streets, staring at nothing in particular as the rain began to drop. Hesitantly at first, but gaining in speed and ferocity as thunder rumbled ominously in the not-so-far-off distance.
This did nothing to bother the pale boy in the black cloak. He stood, lifting his head slowly to watch the dark clouds in the distance pull across the sky until directly overhead. And slowly he dropped his gaze back into the distance.
In the village of Bos, not a sound was made apart from the patter of rain, rolling of thunder, and the occasional gust of howling wind.
Not a soul stirred.
Not a soul was seen.
All except the pale boy in the over-sized black cloak.
The villagers of Bos had brought their cows in from the fields. They hid indoors and locked themselves out of harms way. The dirt streets lay deserted.
Except for one boy.
He was short for fourteen. He wore a black cloak that was obviously too big for him. His ruddy brown hair fell over his eyes, as if soaked. In fact, you couldn't even see his eyes. A frown was pasted on his pale features; a look of neutrality for the boy.
He stood in the streets, staring at nothing in particular as the rain began to drop. Hesitantly at first, but gaining in speed and ferocity as thunder rumbled ominously in the not-so-far-off distance.
This did nothing to bother the pale boy in the black cloak. He stood, lifting his head slowly to watch the dark clouds in the distance pull across the sky until directly overhead. And slowly he dropped his gaze back into the distance.
In the village of Bos, not a sound was made apart from the patter of rain, rolling of thunder, and the occasional gust of howling wind.
Not a soul stirred.
Not a soul was seen.
All except the pale boy in the over-sized black cloak.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Meet Wagon
Meet Clive the Mute, widely known as Wagon. With his shabby brown hair that falls over his eyes, Wagon is the quiet type, not prone to conversation. He spends his days reading when he isn't being teased or cursed by the gods. Most of the village of Bos, widely known for raising cows, avoid Wagon for his weird gods. Beside the normal Zeus and Poseidon and company, Wagon also believes in Omnee, the god of Nom. Constantly donned in his black cloak, Wagon is what you can call on of the more primitive emos in history.
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