MURDER FIGHT: Part 2 (267 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 0.14 on 7 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by awj002 (View user info) at 2007-05-24 14:15:06 EDT
Part 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/108570
**
There was a bit more conversation in the dining area. And yet, a general bunkering down. Ricky sat between Tom Sanders and Reggie Cleveland, a couple guys he'd met in English. They talked about Allison Reynolds, the lanky trumpet player with the ponytails. They talked about shop class, the vice grip, the cranking, the cranking. There must have been two of them who did it. It would have taken two. Ricky knew it was Jeremy they missed most, because they didn't talk about Jeremy.
Ricky was halfway through his stolen slice of pizza when the wet slop of mashed potatoes swashed across his face, green beans mixed throughout. Hanging off his cheek. He dropped the pizza cheese-down into his lap and turned away from his friends, wiping the mess with the first thing he could grab, his empty milk container. The frictionless carton only smeared it. Reggie Sanders reacted immediately, yelling "Oh fuck no, you fucking cunts. Who threw the shit?" He stood up. "Who threw that fucking shit?" Ricky knew. He told Reggie it was Chains.
Doing everything he could to act natural, Chains was sitting feet-up in the ledge of an open window, pocket accessories dangling three-stories to the pavement. His tray sat at his feet, full except for the generous handful of admixture that now ornamented Ricky's facade. The other heavy-metalers laughed from their cross-legged positions on the floor and in their corners. As Chains snickered, the moist crack of a breaded chicken breast nearly knocked him off balance. He secured himself on the window frame. The lunchroom went electric as Chains reached for his pocketknife, extended it like a machete, and waved it menacingly at Reggie, who sat three tables away. Reggie stood and beat his chest, nodding. "Yeah, uh huh, what," he said.
Still seated, Tom Sanders slapped Reggie on the thigh. Reggie looked at Tom, who ceremoniously, and with a great deal of showmanship, cupped his hands over his mouth. Everyone watched. There was an uneasy, almost subconscious collective reach into the pockets. The lunch lady drew up her baking pan and made a shield against the kitchen doorway. "Say the shit," Reggie said. The lips of Tom Sanders began to move inside his palms.
"MURDER-FIGHT!" he yelled.
The lunchroom exploded. The goths, having no tables for protection, took off in both directions across the perimeter. Chains tried to negotiate himself out of the window, but the tread of his shoes caught momentarily on the frame. Steven Andrews, who had always wanted to murder Chains for listening to Marilyn Manson, grabbed a chair by its back leg and swung it full force. Chains saw it coming and raised his free hand against the blow, but it only broke his fingers. As he fell to the pavement he thought that he might never become grandmaster of the guitar. His skull burst like a cantaloupe in the parking lot. Seething with righteous adrenaline, Steven was afraid to watch the scene for fear that he'd be next out the window. His throat was cut even before he could turn around.
User Reviews
Submitted by PhillipTheGreat (user info) at 2007-06-05 18:14:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Is Reggie Sanders the same as Reggie Clevland?
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2007-05-25 18:48:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by MavisMing (user info) at 2007-05-24 16:29:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Barnymeinhoff (user info) at 2007-05-24 16:17:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2007-05-24 15:37:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
The code of the schoolyard, Marge! The rules that teach a boy how to
be a man! Let's see; don't tattle, always make fun of those different
from you, never say anything unless you're sure everyone feels exactly
the same way you do.
-- Homer Simpson
Bart the General
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-05-24 14:48:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by skrapmetal (user info) at 2007-05-24 14:46:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Nah.