Bleh with Barry

Random with a cynical twist of lime.

Reality. (Warning May Contain Grotesque Images and Violence)

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The old man limped slowly down the alley. The shadows loomed all around him, but still he continued. His cane clicked almost mechanically against the dingy pavement. His blue eyes shone out piercing the darkness that lay in front of him.

“Hey old man,” a voice bellowed from a side street. “I think you’ve picked the wrong night to be in this part of town. So how about you give us all your money, and we’ll talk.”

Several figures detached themselves from the darkness. The one who had addressed him spoke with a think Spanish accent and carried a crowbar which he tapped gently in his hand. The other three looked like stock characters from a frat house, each tall, slender, and muscular. One had eyes of steel-blue and whirled a chain lazily. The other two were both brunettes and seemed to have stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch Catalog. They mimicked their leader by tapping their steel bats in the palms of their hands. They laughed a very guttural chuckle as they closed in on the man.

“”You forgot to…” began the old man.

“To say please” snickered the leader, his black eyes gleaming in the darkness.

He lunged toward the septuagenarian with the crowbar raised. The crowbar hit with a thud, burying itself deeply into the alley wall.

The thug’s face contorted in confusion, “What the!”

“Ccraaackk!” screamed the cane and skull as the eagle’s beak buried itself to feast on the innards.

A gurgle came from the boy as he collapsed glassy-eyed in a heap. Blood seeped from the open wound.

“You forgot to know your enemy,” hacked the old man, wiping the blood spital off his face.

The old man slumped quickly over the body. Murmuring a prayer, he applied the pressure to the corner of the eye. “Squi-pop!” He claimed his prize.

The other three kids stared in amazement for a second before they moved in on man.

In the old person’s hands, steel glittered briefly in  the dim light. The blonde attacked. The old one caught his chain and slung him around to be face to face. Three quick precision placed stabs, and the blonde sank to the pavement clutching his gut mass which started spilling out of the newly opened vessel.

The two muscular brunettes gaped, and both immediately swung their bats. In moments, one gasped and grabbed at the new vent in his throat that gushed crimson, while the other knelt subdued at the feet of the silver-haired assassin, waiting for judgment to be passed.

“You have been left alive for a reason. Sure, I’ve cut out your tongue, and in a bit, I will claim that hazel trophy of mine. But you’ll serve as my message to your boss the he better not FUCK WITH ME AGAIN! You can keep your life for this purpose for this moment anyway. Cross my path another night, however, and you’ll wish that I ended it quickly for you, like it did for your buddies. Whimper if you understand.”

“Whmmam,” came the response.

“Good.”

The eye squirted fluid as the thumb found the familiar spot. And howling moans came from the thug instead of terrified screams…but no one arrived with aid.

Whistling a strain from some forgotten hymn, the old man gathered his other trophies, working quickly to finish his work. The dead men’s clothes  provided adequate cleaning for the sword. He gave it one last loving glance as he slid it back into the cane sheath. He wiped his hands methodically on the last flailing man’s shirt.

“Remember. Do what I say, or,” he whipped out the hazel occule and held it close to its mate, “I’ll be seeing you.”

Slowly, the old man stood and began his trek back down the fecal and blood drenched alleyway. His cane clicking mechanically with each hobbled step.

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Written by barryr22

May 7, 2010 at 8:35 pm

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