whisky
Boobie inspector
I'm thinking this is going to be the new introduction to Bob in my stories.
I dont know if its too talky though, somehow in my head the dialogue went by faster, anyway let me know what you think.
Its 1200 words, so hopefully not too long to read.
“Heroes don’t get hernias.” Bob Jones thought to himself, as he walked from the bus stop the short distance to his house.
“Kirk never had a hernia, James Bond never had a hernia, Indiana Jones never had a hernia, but me, I’ve got a hernia. Not that I’ve done anything particularly heroic in 15 years.”
Bob turned the corner knowing that in the next few steps, he would turn the next corner, and know whether he would be able to take the next few hundred feet to his house in peace, or whether the local kids would be there to make his life a misery again.
His stomach knotted up with the anticipation, he knew it was stupid, he knew he had faced death a hundred times before and laughed in its face, but here, almost at his own home, he wasn’t in charge of his own destiny.
The kids were.
The name calling, the stupid comments, the things thrown in his garden, all to provoke a response he wasn’t willing to give them, if he blew his top and had a heart attack, they would probably stand around laughing as his life ebbed away, but if he gave them so much as a clip round the ear, he would be the one off to jail.
The ironic thing was, that none of them would be alive if it weren’t for him, wouldn’t even have been born, but they would never know, and probably wouldn’t care if they did.
He turned the corner full of dread, and for a moment, he thought the coast was clear, no kids, just one adult.
Adults held no fear for Bob.
Feeling relaxed he headed for his house, but before he got there, the man walked towards him, his arms were bare and muscled, and his face had the expression of a man looking for trouble.
“Oy! Arsehole! Have you been upsetting my daughter?” The man said threateningly.
Bob stood still and let the man close in on him, he could see the brat of a girl stood in the doorway of the man’s house across the street.
“No, actually she’s been upsetting me.” Bob replied calmly.
“YOU WHAT?” The other man yelled, his muscles tensing.
“She calls me names on a regular basis, and since you moved in the street, she’s made all the rest of the kids round here do it too.” Bob explained.
“I’ll rip your fucking head off ya little fat cunt!” The man said menacingly, as his daughter looked on in delight.
“No, you’ll shout a little more, then go back to your house, and I’ll go back to mine.” Bob retorted politely.
“And why the hell would I do that?” Asked the man, peering down at Bob from his several inches of height advantage.
“Because when you look at me you see a small man with a beer belly wearing a suit, you’ve been here a year and I’ve looked the same in all that time. You think I work in an office and you’ll be right, but you think I’ve probably always worked there, and you’ll be wrong.” Bob explained carefully.
The angry man had a puzzled expression on his face, he was used to people backing down and apologising when he confronted them, and failing that, he was used to smacking them around.
“I was in the gulf war, not the meat grinder they have going on at the moment, the last one, the one where they actually let us do what needed to be done, then let us get out and leave them to themselves afterwards, bit of a shitty deal for them, but at least me and most of my mates made it back.”
The man looked a little uneasy when Bob said he was a soldier, but he still didn’t look entirely convinced.
“I was never just a regular solder though, I received special training in combat, both armed and unarmed, and if you are wondering why I haven’t used my skills on you and your big gob, its because I’m not really trained in slapping around daft twats looking for trouble, I’m training in killing people as fast as possible.”
The man’s face was a turmoil of emotions now, fury at the insults, worry that Bob might be telling the truth, worrying about what his daughter would think, and all the people who must be peering through the net curtains up and down the street.
“I don’t really want to go to jail for killing you, and I lost my dad when I wasn’t much older than your girl, so I wouldn’t want to make her an orphan either, trouble is there’s about fifteen places on you where I can kill you with a simple jab of my finger tips, and the worrying thing for me, is that its so instinctive, so engrained even after all these years, that it will just happen fast as that!” Bob said, snapping his fingers.
The man flinched.
“I mean at the end of the day its up to you, if your lucky I’ll just use defensive moves and drop you to the floor before your arm has finished its backswing ready for your first punch, of course for a man who prides himself on his reputation, to be knocked to the floor and pinned down by a ‘little fat cunt’ would be really embarrassing.”
The man gulped, his throat suddenly feeling very dry.
“Of course I could just be making all this up, but then if you hit me now, everyone who’s watching, and we both know that will be a lot, will wonder why its taken so long, and what I could possibly be saying all this time to put you off. But since I have spoken so softly, I doubt anyone but you has heard this conversation, not even your charming daughter, so why don’t you just trot off home to her, and leave everyone guessing? Because if you make a move now, everyone will know one way or another.”
“You’ve got no-one in this street, and I have a lot of friends” The man said nervously, but quietly.
“Oh I have no doubt that if you have enough people with you, I will get taken down, but if you ever do come at me with a gang of your ‘friends’, you wont see me take a single punch, I wont be able to take you all down, but I can certainly take one down, and we both know that one will be you.”
The colour was draining from the man’s face now, and his eyes were darting from side to side.
“Pride is an important thing in life, but its not worth dying for, now go home, and if you ever speak to me again, it had better be about the weather.” Bob finished intently.
The man clenched his fists, then unclenched them, and sullenly walked back to his house, his daughter watching him incredulously.
“I thought you were going to smack Mr Bean!” She whined as he approached.
The man clipped her across the head.
“Don’t ever call him that again, now get in!” He said, shoving her in the house, following close behind, then slamming the door behind him.
Bob let out an enormous breath, then walked the short distance to his house and let himself in.
As his door shit behind him he slumped against the door, his heart pounding.
Had he made things better?
Worse?
Had his mouth signed a cheque that his arse couldn’t cash?
Only time would tell.
Until then he poured himself a rum and coke, then headed upstairs to see how his bittorent of the last episode of lost was doing.
I dont know if its too talky though, somehow in my head the dialogue went by faster, anyway let me know what you think.
Its 1200 words, so hopefully not too long to read.
“Heroes don’t get hernias.” Bob Jones thought to himself, as he walked from the bus stop the short distance to his house.
“Kirk never had a hernia, James Bond never had a hernia, Indiana Jones never had a hernia, but me, I’ve got a hernia. Not that I’ve done anything particularly heroic in 15 years.”
Bob turned the corner knowing that in the next few steps, he would turn the next corner, and know whether he would be able to take the next few hundred feet to his house in peace, or whether the local kids would be there to make his life a misery again.
His stomach knotted up with the anticipation, he knew it was stupid, he knew he had faced death a hundred times before and laughed in its face, but here, almost at his own home, he wasn’t in charge of his own destiny.
The kids were.
The name calling, the stupid comments, the things thrown in his garden, all to provoke a response he wasn’t willing to give them, if he blew his top and had a heart attack, they would probably stand around laughing as his life ebbed away, but if he gave them so much as a clip round the ear, he would be the one off to jail.
The ironic thing was, that none of them would be alive if it weren’t for him, wouldn’t even have been born, but they would never know, and probably wouldn’t care if they did.
He turned the corner full of dread, and for a moment, he thought the coast was clear, no kids, just one adult.
Adults held no fear for Bob.
Feeling relaxed he headed for his house, but before he got there, the man walked towards him, his arms were bare and muscled, and his face had the expression of a man looking for trouble.
“Oy! Arsehole! Have you been upsetting my daughter?” The man said threateningly.
Bob stood still and let the man close in on him, he could see the brat of a girl stood in the doorway of the man’s house across the street.
“No, actually she’s been upsetting me.” Bob replied calmly.
“YOU WHAT?” The other man yelled, his muscles tensing.
“She calls me names on a regular basis, and since you moved in the street, she’s made all the rest of the kids round here do it too.” Bob explained.
“I’ll rip your fucking head off ya little fat cunt!” The man said menacingly, as his daughter looked on in delight.
“No, you’ll shout a little more, then go back to your house, and I’ll go back to mine.” Bob retorted politely.
“And why the hell would I do that?” Asked the man, peering down at Bob from his several inches of height advantage.
“Because when you look at me you see a small man with a beer belly wearing a suit, you’ve been here a year and I’ve looked the same in all that time. You think I work in an office and you’ll be right, but you think I’ve probably always worked there, and you’ll be wrong.” Bob explained carefully.
The angry man had a puzzled expression on his face, he was used to people backing down and apologising when he confronted them, and failing that, he was used to smacking them around.
“I was in the gulf war, not the meat grinder they have going on at the moment, the last one, the one where they actually let us do what needed to be done, then let us get out and leave them to themselves afterwards, bit of a shitty deal for them, but at least me and most of my mates made it back.”
The man looked a little uneasy when Bob said he was a soldier, but he still didn’t look entirely convinced.
“I was never just a regular solder though, I received special training in combat, both armed and unarmed, and if you are wondering why I haven’t used my skills on you and your big gob, its because I’m not really trained in slapping around daft twats looking for trouble, I’m training in killing people as fast as possible.”
The man’s face was a turmoil of emotions now, fury at the insults, worry that Bob might be telling the truth, worrying about what his daughter would think, and all the people who must be peering through the net curtains up and down the street.
“I don’t really want to go to jail for killing you, and I lost my dad when I wasn’t much older than your girl, so I wouldn’t want to make her an orphan either, trouble is there’s about fifteen places on you where I can kill you with a simple jab of my finger tips, and the worrying thing for me, is that its so instinctive, so engrained even after all these years, that it will just happen fast as that!” Bob said, snapping his fingers.
The man flinched.
“I mean at the end of the day its up to you, if your lucky I’ll just use defensive moves and drop you to the floor before your arm has finished its backswing ready for your first punch, of course for a man who prides himself on his reputation, to be knocked to the floor and pinned down by a ‘little fat cunt’ would be really embarrassing.”
The man gulped, his throat suddenly feeling very dry.
“Of course I could just be making all this up, but then if you hit me now, everyone who’s watching, and we both know that will be a lot, will wonder why its taken so long, and what I could possibly be saying all this time to put you off. But since I have spoken so softly, I doubt anyone but you has heard this conversation, not even your charming daughter, so why don’t you just trot off home to her, and leave everyone guessing? Because if you make a move now, everyone will know one way or another.”
“You’ve got no-one in this street, and I have a lot of friends” The man said nervously, but quietly.
“Oh I have no doubt that if you have enough people with you, I will get taken down, but if you ever do come at me with a gang of your ‘friends’, you wont see me take a single punch, I wont be able to take you all down, but I can certainly take one down, and we both know that one will be you.”
The colour was draining from the man’s face now, and his eyes were darting from side to side.
“Pride is an important thing in life, but its not worth dying for, now go home, and if you ever speak to me again, it had better be about the weather.” Bob finished intently.
The man clenched his fists, then unclenched them, and sullenly walked back to his house, his daughter watching him incredulously.
“I thought you were going to smack Mr Bean!” She whined as he approached.
The man clipped her across the head.
“Don’t ever call him that again, now get in!” He said, shoving her in the house, following close behind, then slamming the door behind him.
Bob let out an enormous breath, then walked the short distance to his house and let himself in.
As his door shit behind him he slumped against the door, his heart pounding.
Had he made things better?
Worse?
Had his mouth signed a cheque that his arse couldn’t cash?
Only time would tell.
Until then he poured himself a rum and coke, then headed upstairs to see how his bittorent of the last episode of lost was doing.
)
