Monday, August 11, 2014
Getting Back At Larry - Part 3
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Seanday Shorts: Turf Wars
I rounded the corner and searched the faces in the crowded mall. Milo's voice grated across my mobile, "Find him, FIND HIM!" I gritted my teeth, and ended the call. This was the gang's turf, and Antonio was trespassing. My mobile rang again--Milo. I hated him, what he'd done to my family, the advantage he had on me.
I heard shouting, the others had spotted Antonio running towards the exits, he hadn't seen me and I ducked back around the corner to head him off. I watched him running towards me, a look of panic on his face; our eyes locked and he shook his head, almost begging me to step aside. I looked away for a split second, and saw my kid brother taken away by one of Milo's guys--just a distant memory. I had no choice, and stepped into Antonio's path and tackled him to the ground. Seconds later the others were lifting him to his feet, dragging him to one of the quiet corners of the mall. Reluctantly I followed knowing Milo's plans for poor Antonio.
Milo sauntered up, cocky as ever. He was ruthless in his greed for power, but still small fry in the district. Six months ago, I'd been careless when I'd borrowed the identity of one of his men--they'd seen me. News got back to Milo, and he tried to recruit me into his gang, I wasn't interested. This really twisted him into a rage, he yelled threatening my life--but he didn't scare me. Then he went quiet, and the others shifted nervously. I had the impression that this wasn't a good sign. He pulled one of his guys to one side and muttered something in his ear, I swallowed when his eyes flicked towards me, and then his goon left.
He walked up, looking up at me; although he was short, his demeanour was that of a wild and dangerous animal. He smiled, corners edged into a sneer of a predator that's just cornered its prey. An hour later, he had my kid brother and to keep him alive I found myself working for Milo.
---
We crowded around Antonio, holding him in place. We waited, Milo waited until he'd said his piece, threatening that his brother would kill us all. I knew his brothers background, Milo was small fry in comparison. I discarded the thought and focused on my own brother. Milo picked at Antonio's sunglasses, but had his hand slapped away. His hands balled, and he mustered himself as the smile returned. "Let's see how valuable you are, I want to extend my 'hood--" he prodded at Antonio's chest, "now I've got you, I don't think your brother will stand in my way."
I watched Milo make a FaceTime call to Antonio's brother--Raymond. Antonio started to struggle again; I leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "Stop moving, otherwise you’re a dead man."
"You know my brother will come for me," he muttered to Milo.
"So what if he does, I got all the cards," he replied with a sneer.
Raymond's face appeared on the screen. "You! What the fuck as you calling me for you weasel."
"I want you to give me the south district," Milo grinned.
"You're an idiot, don't waste time."
"Have you lost anything?" Milo lifted the phone and showed Antonio. "Look what I've found, on my turf," Milo sneered. Then he dropped the facade, "I don't want your shit stinking up my 'hood."
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Caption This (9th Aug)
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Friday, August 8, 2014
Getting Back At Larry - Part 2
Collan's Caption This Catch Up
6th July, 2013 - Pic. 3
Part 2 - Group Therapy
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| Arlene, Larry, and Alice |
Read Part 1 HERE.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Guest Post: The Last Resort by Cris Kane
McKinley Sinclair wheezed as he attempted to get out of the taxi. He'd shakily gotten both legs out of the car and was attempting to stand up when his legs gave way and his congested lungs voiced their opposition with a loud, phlegmy coughing jag.
"Mac, what in the hell are you trying to do?", yelled Wayne Archer, frantically pushing a wheelchair he had retrieved from the lobby. "I told you to stay put."
"I wanted to stay put, back home, but you wouldn't let me." Mac had argued forcefully against this trip ever since Wayne first suggested it. Mac didn't know much about medicine, but he knew cars, and in his experience, if multiple parts are failing at once, it doesn't make sense to put more money into a failing jalopy. If he were a car, he could be traded in for a newer model. Unfortunately for Mac, the best he could hope for at this stage was to be scrapped for parts, not that any of his worn-out organs would be of much good to anyone.
Maybe his eyes could be salvaged. They had managed to stay free of glaucoma and cataracts, and they were certainly working well now as he scoped out the staff of this resort Wayne had ultimately dragged him to. Much as he had complained every step of the way getting here, he had no complaints about the scenery now that he was here. Everywhere he looked were fit young men in their late teens to mid-twenties, rushing about in crisp pastel polos, tight khaki short-shorts and white tennis shoes with ankle socks. Wayne smiled as he noticed Mac's head swiveling madly, unable to control his gawking as one young hunk after another whizzed past. Young women were busily attending to their duties as well, but none of them got a glance from Mac.
"Where have to taken me?", Mac asked. "Heaven?"
Saturday, August 2, 2014
Caption This (2nd Aug)
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Thursday, July 31, 2014
Collan's Caption This Catch Up (6th July)
6th July, 2013 - Pic. 3
Getting Back At Larry
Part 1 - Suiting Up
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| Arlene, Larry, and Alice |
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| Travis |
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Guest Post: Re-Caption This (26th Apr)
I received this from Cris Kane; inspired by Collan's recent posts – thanks for sending in the story Cris.
"I just heard nobody's asked Kaitlyn Johnson to the prom!"
Noah glanced over the top of his plastic-framed glasses, unimpressed by his friend Tyler's bulletin. "So?"
"So, I'm gonna ask her out!", Tyler declared.
Noah snorted, sending a trickle of chocolate milk through his nostrils. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his flannel shirt and studied Tyler across the table. "Did you wake up on the insane side of the bed today?"
Tyler became defensive. "Screw you. You don't know that she'll say no. I did just have a growth spurt."
"Five-one to five-two doesn't count as a 'spurt'. That's more like a trickle." Noah lowered his head and went back to reading his X-Men comic and wolfing down his brown-bag lunch.
Finally setting down his lunch tray across from Noah and taking a seat, Tyler said, "My dad says you never get anything unless you try."
"Yeah, well, you never get humiliated unless you try something stupid," Noah countered, nudging his glasses back up his nose and smiling a shit-eating grin. Well, technically, peanut-butter-eating. Probably not the best choice for somebody wearing braces, but Noah wasn't going to stop eating things he liked just because his mom thought he should have straight teeth. As evidenced by the flab hanging over the front of his pants and the edge of his seat, Noah wasn't big on the concept of stopping eating.
By contrast, Tyler was short and painfully frail, his bones having approximately the same thickness and resiliency as uncooked spaghetti. But what he lacked in size, he made up for in self-confidence. Glorious unwarranted self-confidence. He wasn't gifted academically, athletically or socially. He and Noah had become friends almost by default, as if they had tied for the title of "least popular" in kindergarten and their prize was each other's company for life. Lately, though, Tyler had begun to feel that Noah was holding him back, almost literally weighing him down and preventing him from rising in the school's social circles. Taking Kaitlyn to the prom would be a major coup for Tyler.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Seanday Lunch: Fresh Pickings
I was getting impatient, I looked at the time. "He should have got the goods by now." I muttered under my breath.
It was a simple job, get an identity that we could use to target all the rich kids over the summer break.
The resort had stepped up security, so I needed something that wouldn't look out of place.
My phone buzzed--a text. It was Greg, "Can't get close enough to anyone." I cursed under my breath, this was his last screw-up Greg was for the meat hook. *What an idiot.* I had to take him on, show him the ropes, I owed it to big Frank. But to be honest, Greg just wasn't smart enough for this scam. It didn't matter, I'd already lined up someone I could slip into his skin, Frank wouldn't know and he'd be proud of his 'son'.
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Caption This (26th July)
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Nu-You: The Convention
Read "Nu-You: Genesis" here.
I was dreading this tech expo. Another out-of-town trip to another interchangeable hotel, with the same old overpriced mini-fridge and the same old hotel-TV porn. Eating at the same old breakfast buffets where you would run into the same old reps who were at the last convention, all hoping to find some new product that truly excited them.
It was the first full day of the conference and I was already bored stiff -- or, more accurately, bored flaccid. Nothing aroused my interest as I wandered from booth to booth in the vast convention hall, hearing pitches from either droning geeky techheads with few presentation skills or perky actors and actresses who could memorize their spiels but had no clue what to say if you asked a follow-up question. I was already lugging around two plastic bags stretched to their limits with pamphlets and presentations and souvenir t-shirts and drink koozies. I had taken them all, just to be polite, but I planned to chuck most of them in the trash rather than bothering to tote them back to my room.
I was feeling like a nap and was just about to exit the ballroom when I noticed a lantern-jawed young man seated at a booth getting little attention at the moment. The guy had a movie-star face but an appropriately casual, approachable attitude, and his blond hair was short enough to suggest serious business but shaggy enough to convey a rebellious streak. (After all these years, I now found myself more fascinated by all the subtle ways that companies tried to manipulate you into checking out their products than by the products themselves.) His company t-shirt was stressed impressively by his shoulders and pecs, tapering to a narrow waist and hanging untucked over indigo jeans. His hands were pressed against a stool behind him and he was slowly raising and lowering himself, working in some exercise for his stand-out triceps while he waited for people to drop by the booth. He had earned my attention, so I walked over to chat.
As I approached, he stood up and grinned, creating two deep dimples on his cheeks. I pointed to the banner behind him which contained nothing but the letters "NU". "What's NU?", I asked.
"I dunno, what's new with you?", he replied a bit stiffly, with the weariness of someone who has been making the same lame joke all day.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Collan's Caption This Catch Up (10th May)
10th May, 2014 - Pic. 1
I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers.
Coming to live in a college dorm after years of a hermit-like high school existence was culture shock. Back home I was the weird, skinny nerd, the token gay social outcast who did his best to avoid the rest of the small-minded, small town denizens who were all too willing torment the obvious outsider given the slightest opportunity, never mind that I had been born there just like the rest of them. So I had made sure the opportunities they got were few and far between, and I had assumed I would continue staying out of the way in college. Keeping my head down was a winning strategy. Why mess with success?
What I hadn't counted on was the reality of being forced to live cheek-by-jowl with a seeming unending parade of ideal male bodies. Within the first hour I was overwhelmed by them. On the paths of the campus they walked, in the lounges of the dorm they casually relaxed, in the halls they fist bumped with their bros, and one in particular even invaded my room. I had requested a single room and had thought it had gotten approved, but in typical bureaucratic fashion I showed up on the first day of Freshman orientation to find someone already occupying an obvious double room. I had a roommate. Cullen McCathers.
From that very first day, I discovered that even though he spoke to me in a friendly enough fashion and I apparently responded appropriately to the conversation, none of it really registered. He remained a remote and unattainable object despite our sharing a living space, because my thoughts, my gaze, the core of my very being seemed to be pulled into his orbit on a visceral level.
He was muscled and toned like a fitness model, and he had a strong face that lit up when he smiled. His voice was sexy, his eyes were sexy, his walk was sexy. His scent, whenever I managed to get a whiff of it, drove me wild with desire, and after watching him unself-consciously change in our room to go take a shower, I knew he was hung so big that I wondered how he dealt with all of that meat in his crotch on a daily basis.
Within a day my universe shifted, and he became its center. He filled my waking fantasies and starred in my nightly dreams.
I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers.





