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The St. Pat's communion hosts were stored in a room that was looked after by an old priest named Father Scrambury. Father Pliss asked Petar to go and pick up a pack so that they wouldn't be short in the chapel. Petar set off at crotchet = 120, as was his custom. Check out crotchet = 120, it's a pretty fast walk - 120 steps in a minute. Most people would walk slower. Probably somewhere between crotchet = 80 and crotchet = 100. Petar didn't really have to think about his pace, it was ingrained in him. In fact, it was almost like his inbuilt metronome was controlling all around him. Like how minutes and hours really go by at the same speed for everyone but, depending on what you're doing, an hour can seem like forever, or it can fly past. Maybe there's more to time than we realise?
Fr. Scrambury's storeroom was way around the back of the school in an area that few people visited or really knew about, so the only person that Petar thought he might see around there was Fr. Scrambury, but the old guy did have a tendency to wander off and be quite hard to find.
Petar entered this hidden away area of the school. Then he saw that he was not alone!
The big fat boy and his scrawny friend were there. The fat boy grinned when he saw his victim.
"Hey Penis, you shouldn't be out in the open!" he mocked as they both moved in closer to Petar. The scrawny boy was boxing the air. He was fast!
For Petar there was not much time to think. Fortunately, as well as practising the violin, he had spent a lot of time rehearsing for a situation like this. He saw his metronome like it was right in front of him.
The setting on the metronome was crotchet = 120. He wound it down to crotchet = 10 and let himself slip into that mind set. When a metronome is set at this speed, it clicks every six seconds. That's actually quite a long time. Before the second click he had decisively poked the fat boy in the eyes and still had time to step in and knee the other guy in the balls. They were both probably still living in crotchet = 120 and were probably unaware of what had happened when the second click sounded. Then the pain set in and they both rolled around on the ground.
Fr. Scrambury was not around but he had left the package of hosts by the storeroom door. Petar picked them up and headed off at crotchet = 120. There was no point sticking around and he knew it was unlikely that the two bullies would be reporting the incident to the rector. What! Beaten up by one little year nine boy? Though he did suspect that this wouldn't be the end of it.
To be continued.
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Good fight scene. It played in slow motion in my mind.
Petar felt no elation. As the adrenaline subsided, he felt hollow. Now there would be no peace. Always looking over his shoulder, in the library, the tuck shop queue, the toilets. Yes especially there. That's where they would seek retribution. He just wouldn't 'go' at school. He'd hold on all day.
It was just after lunch as he walked the corridor to Mr Nailer's English class, he rounded the corner and there they stood. One had a bandaged left eye. The rest of the class milled around in anticipation. The big fat boy made to call him out. But in the blink of an eye, using his sharp wit, Petar spoke. The fat boy froze and turned deep red. The other boys started to snigger. Then the little skinny one opened his mouth to speak but Petar was quicker. The barbed truism flew from his mouth and the fat boy looked distainfully at the skinny kid. "Do you really" he said to him beginning to back away. The rest of the boys were howling and hooting and started to come over to Petar, slapping him on his back. He had earned new respect.
"Anyone not at their desk in 10 seconds will be off to see Fr Inveritch after school" Mr Nailer bellowed.
I’d add to this thread but have been warned off about parallel universing.
Why is Robert trying to take over my story?
Richard finished the fourth part of his story. He was happy with the way it was going - he did notice that a couple of his readers seemed to have missed the main point. Then he thought, "I hope that Robert can carry on the story for me now." Most writers probably have this thought.
I'll have to start a new story...
Brian returned from shopping and as he unloaded his groceries a neighbour came across for a chat. He asked Brian where he had been. Brian told him that he had been shopping but had been short changed by $50. The neighbour then told Brian how, three years ago, his sister had been short changed by $50. Brian did not find that interesting.
RBB
Malcolm was sad because his car had been bumped while he was at the supermarket. There was quite a big dent behind the back left wheel. There was also paint from the obviously red car that had hit him and then buggered off.
It really annoyed Malcolm that some scumbag would do that.
When he got back to work he ran into a workmate named Jenny.
He was still upset and told her his story about the car.
Jenny said, "My brother's wife was hit like that once, probably about ten years ago. They never found out who it was."
This comment did not help Malcolm. All it did was take importance away from his story. It was just talking about someone else who was pissed off. Right or wrong, it didn't succeed in diminishing Malcolm's upset but seemed to take away his right to be pissed off, to enjoy his story being heard. Sometimes it is good to listen and not to diminish what happened with some out of place comparison story.
I guess it is similar when someone is writing a story. The last thing they will probably want is someone else finishing it for them.
That evening Jenny arrived home a little earlier than normal and the sun was still shining. I'll do some gardening she thought and she weeded and lay rocks on top of weed map. She stood back and was pleased with her effort.
Just then her husband Joe arrived home.
"I've been doing some gardening and layed some stones..." she began.
Joe said "As I was driving home I saw Bob working in his garden.He's building this real nice boulder garden with a fountain and pool. He's been working on it for several days so I pulled over and said "Hey Bob", where did you get those rocks...."
Jenny sighed and nodded gazing into the distance.
Jenny replied, "Please don't lead Rob astray with his grammar. You finish a question with a question mark, and please be careful where you put speech marks. Do you know that your name is often used to describe a condom?"
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