Este blog não possui nenhuma afiliação social, empregatícia, financeira ou política a não ser comigo mesmo. As opiniões expressas aqui refletem meu ponto de vista sobre assuntos aleatórios e nada mais. Comentários são mais do que bem vindos, são encorajados, positivos ou não. Até prefiro comentários oposicionistas, afinal um mundo que pensa igual é desprovido de inovação. Portanto, sinta-se em casa. Espero que ler minhas verborréias esporádicas traga-lhe o mesmo prazer que tenho produzindo-as.
P.S. Algumas vezes algo que eu quero expressar não pode ser dito (apenas) com palavras, então vai parar em meu fotolog ao invés de aqui. Confira-o de vez em quando.
quinta-feira, 10 de dezembro de 2009
Andrew, Chapter 3, Early Draft.
- How's The Vic, Ender ? Is it whole ?
- It'll be o.k. They're towing it back to Amsterdam now, but me and Lemmy need a lift.
The Vic was a 98 Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor Andrew bought from the Montgomery County Sheriff and kept as a prized posession. He had it painted jet black, including the chromed hubcaps, and kludged the data terminal mount to fit his laptop. He also kept the strobe lights behind the grille, though he wasn't sure the Sheriff would approve of that.
Ezekiel didn't care much for his namesake, the jewish prophet, until he watched Pulp Fiction. He'd commited Ezekiel 25:17 to memory (the movie version, not the King James' one) and was famous for overusing it. He had, presently, just found a way to fit it in the conversation about the accident:
- The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.
- Don't, Zeke - Andrew pleaded.
- Blessed is he who in the name of charity and goodwill shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children.
- You know, that's not even Scripture. I mean, it is, but it's a hodge-podge. It doesn't mean anything.
- And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.
Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He was in no mood for Jules Winnfield - The Vic is not your brother. And it's not destroyed. I'll have to replace the front bumper, maybe the front shocks, that's all.
He wasn't ungrateful, Andrew, and he wouldn't normally interrupt Zeke's favorite ranting, but Lemmy was fast asleep in the back and he knew what came next. Zeke struck the steering wheel with his closed fist as he boomed - And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!
Lemmy woke up with a start. He didn't like Ender's habit of letting his dates drive, specially the sub-18-dumb-bimbo type Ender had been dating for the last couple of months. Lemmy was a proud misogynist, and when stuff like tonight happened he felt equal parts worried about his friend's stupidity and vindicated on his opinion of women.
He wasn't called Lemmy, either. His name was Gianpaolo, itself a contraction of Pope John Paul II's Italian name. There were several versions of how his nickname came to be, the most accepted being that he was a great Motörhead fan (fact) and that it came from his online alias, K1LLMSTR (also a fact). But Andrew knew it was actually derived from this habit of leaving his wallet home and asking "Lemmy 20 bucks for brewskies ?" It was not that he didn't pay, mused Andrew, but the fact that after a decade he still managed to forget the damned wallet from time to time.
- So, what you guys wanna do tonight ? Have some brewskies ?
- Sure, but first, who's up to tripping the alarm of some warehouse on the way ? - offered Zeke.