WCWC Thursday 3/25/04 three fingers

[lumberjim]

Because I'm an impatient putz, and I just don't feel like waiting until Thursday, I'm going to kick this off early. I will try to keep to the each Thursday format in the future.

Here's the first topic:

You find yourself saying," That's why I only held up three fingers."

Bring us to this point. There is no minimum size, there is no time limit, but try to keep it inside one post. feel free to illustrate your story. Just one real rule to this one: Your post must end with the above sentence.

[lumberjim]

The old man sent back his soup. He glared at me across the table in the filthy deli. The smoke from his cigarette tickled my nose, and I had a wedgie that I dared not pick in front of him. He pushed his hat back up on is head, and rubbed his scary-ass eyebrows with thumb and forefinger. Crunching noises punctuatued the silence as he rubbed. He said, " Just how many people do you think will actually contribute to this thread, genius?"
Hotly, I looked down at my plate. Fucker. It was a good idea. "I already told you, Barney," I said.
" You ignored me when I asked!" he spat. He seemed out of breath. But we were just sitting there. His skin was looking very white, and as I noticed this, a look came over his face. His eyes went out. They didn;t close, they just went out. I can't explain it other than to say that it was like looking at a light bulb that had just been on, and realizing that it was turned off. His mouth went slack, and he drooled upon the table. His head bobbed back up, and he said, " Why won't you tell me?...How many people??" and he began to slide slowly down the vinyl seat under the table.
Before he died, I grabbed him by the collar, putting the strength of all of my pent up agression and squashed dreams that I blamed him for into it and shouted right in his filthy old grey face. "I DID tell you, old man! THREE, I SAID!...THREE!!! That's why I only held up three fingers!"

[Beestie]

You could have asked me for the money.
Silence. Hangs head.
Well you're fucked now. Ten years.
You still don't understand, do you? You heard of a guy named Floyd Perkins?
Puzzled look.
Yeah...?
He and I had a deal.
You had a deal with Floyd Perkins?!?!
Floyd wanted me to off his wife. Apparently he thought she was fucking somebody. He had pics but you couldn't tell who it was.
So... what does that have to do wi...
Well, let me fuckin' finish!
Well hurry the fuck up! The guard's gonna be here any minute! How much did he pay you?
Twenty grand.
Up front?
Yep.
Dumbass.
Yep. Trouble is, **I** was the guy she was fucking!!!
No shit?? And you took the money!!
I had no choice!
So what the hell did you thi...
EXACTLY!!
But I had it all figured out, see. I used some of the money to buy two one-way tickets to Sao Paulo. She and I were going to meet there after I **offed** her.
Yeah, so far so good - so what happened.
Well, I had made her **disappear** and stashed her in a motel about 35 miles west of Floyd's place next to that old saloon you and I used to get so hammered in. I called Floyd and told him the deed was done and stopped off to grab a drink before she and I made off to the Amarillo airport. She had a wig and some other shit so no one would recognize her.
So what went wrong?
Well, I'm in the bar, knocking down some whiskey when Floyd calls.
Where's the body?
Huh?
Where's the goddamn body? I can't collect insurance without a fucking body!
You didn't tell me you needed the body. Man, I made it where there AIN'T no body!
Well you better cough up ten fucking grand then - cause that's what the policy was going to pay.
I knew that Floyd had friends everywhere. Even in Brazil. Shit. I couldn't screw him over or I'd be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of my short and miserable life. The whiskey started sinking in. Our flight left in two hours. I told Floyd to meet me at the airport in 90 minutes. I called the motel and told Floyd's wife to take a cab to the airport and get on the plane as soon as she could and that I would meet her on the plane.
So, you were just going to peel off ten grand from the twenty he paid you and give it back?
No, shit-for-brains, I already wired it to Brazil! I can't be walking in the fucking airport with nearly twenty grand in my pocket!
So what in the hell were you thinking?
Well, I remembered from wayy back that the bar kept a small safe in the back where they kept a shitload of cash for the poker games they ran. Everybody knew about it and even the Sheriff was one of the players.
Oh, my go....
Well it sounded so easy! No one was in the bar except some drunk fucker snoring in a pool of his own slobber. So I **walked** the bartender to the back, had him open the safe, I only took what I needed, knocked him out but didn't hurt him and left for the airport in just enough time to meet Floyd, give him his fucking money, get on the plane and get the hell outta here.
So what went wrong?
Fucking bartender woke up. Guess he heard me talking to Floyd's wife. Goddamn cops were waiting at the airport.
Chuckling.
Well, if nothing else, now it makes sense. My brother, the bank - I mean Saloon robber. I remember that saloon having a weird name. What was it again???
Yeah, it did. So to make a short story long, that's why I held up Three Fingers.

edited to correct two pronoun errors.

[Clodfobble]

"...I SAID this would be a bad idea from the beginning, didn't I say that Betty? I SAID it. I just had a feeling. You know how I get my feelings, dear, I'm never wrong, am I? No, I'm not. God tells you something's a bad idea, you're supposed to listen. I should never have let you talk me into this. If your father were alive, he'd be rolling in his grave right now..."
Stupid fucking bitch. That doesn't make any sense. If you would SHUT UP for two seconds I could concentrate on waving my arms like a maniac.
"Dad, are we gonna get to go home soon?"
"Yeah, Tommy, but I think it's gonna take a little longer. I don't think anyone on that boat saw us, we're too far away."
I stared at the boat, so big that it seemed not to even move. But I knew it certainly was moving, and in the wrong direction.
"There's not another boat for miles, John, is there...?"
I knew that look. My wife was about to cry.
"Well OF COURSE there's not, stupid, would he plan a vacation with safety for his family as his first priority? Obviously he would not. We could be in the kitchen right now enjoying some cookies, that's vacation enough for me, but NO, he wanted to get on a boat and sail to the middle of nowhere so we could be sure to capsize with NO ONE around! As if being on these waves is relaxing in the slightest, I've wanted to throw up since we left the dock..."
I looked at my wife, whose tears had finally broken the barrier. I'm so sorry, honey. Goddammit, I'm supposed to take care of my family! I HAVE to do something. I have to.
"I'm gonna swim for it."
"John, no. It's a lot farther than it looks."
"Oh-ho-ho, THIS I have to see. Let him! Let him show what a man he is! He got us into this, let him get us out!"
"Daddy, can I go with you?"
"No, Tommy, I can swim faster if you stay here with your mommy. It might take a long, long time, but I'll be back, I promise. Ok?"
He looked at me very seriously. "Ok."
And so I found myself swimming slowly and carefully, not overexerting myself, not letting any unseen currents take me off course, towards the boat in the distance. Betty had been right, it was probably a mile or two at least, but I'd swum farther than that before.
Yeah, when you were 17. Dumbass.

The sun was getting very low on the horizon when I finally reached the boat. I'd had plenty of time to study it in the last couple of hours, and had slowly come to realize that there were no markings anywhere from stern to bow. Very odd. Suddenly a man approached the edge and saw me.
"FREEZE!" From out of nowhere, his hands raised to point a gun at me. I didn't know guns like I knew boats, but I could certainly tell it was no handgun.
For the record, raising your arms in the water without sinking is very hard. "I'm... pffllt... I'm a civilian! My...pffltss--my family's boat sunk!... Pfftllt... We just want to get back to shore!"
The man paused, then unrolled a rope ladder. "Climb slowly," he ordered.
At the top, I was taken through a whirlwind of very technical-looking equipment--it wasn't boats, so what do I know?--to a man I assumed was a captain. My rescuer muttered with the captain briefly, who then escorted me back out to the main deck.
"Look, son, I'm very sorry, but there's not a lot we can do for you. It is out of the question for us to alter our course." As my mouth opened he cut me off, "It's classified. I'd love to help you and your alleged family, but the best I can do is give you one of our motorized lifeboats--and tell you that we will be watching you all the way to the horizon and if you turn back to our ship or even significantly change directions we will shoot you."
"That... that's fine. A motorized lifeboat will be just fine."
"Excellent. We've got two kinds. The smaller ones move faster. How many people do you need to get back to shore?"
That's why I only held up three fingers.

[Elspode]

I wasn't sure exactly how I felt about what I found myself doing, down on the floor, groping about blindly. Mostly, it felt kind of silly, and a bit sticky and dirty. It was difficult to concentrate with all the machinery noise and people yelling at each other.

What I really couldn't understand was how the damn machines could still be running, but all the lights were out. Shouldn't there be emergency lights or something?

Suddenly, I felt my hand brush up against something moist and slightly warm to the touch. Then, right next to it, another something, and still another. I closed my hand around them, and stood up.

From a distance, I heard someone calling my name.

"Ed! Ed!! Where are you?!"

"I'm over here! By the table saw, I think!"

I waved the contents of my hand above my head and shouted for someone to shine a flashlight in the direction of my voice. The aftermath of the electrical malfunction was beginning to calm down. Most of the injured had already been taken out to waiting ambulances. Poor bastards. Who the hell expects a dangerous machine to do jumping jacks while you're using it, anyway? And as long as we're asking stupid rhetorical quesitons, why do I always draw the nasty duty?

"Ed! Did you find them all?

"No, Chief...that's why I only held up three fingers."

(edited to fix bad writing)

[lumberjim]

clever

[Cam]

Slightly warped from the humid South American climate the table didn’t exactly sit level on the hard wood floor. One leg hung 2 inches off the ground and the half full class of ice cold lemonade threatened to slide off and spill its sticky contents on the floor.

Still the table was an incredible piece of furniture. Each leg was hand carved, brilliantly done by the craftsman in the shapes of each of the four gods of the local tribe. Each was incredibly detailed; every detail was included, from the snake curled around Kaines body to Nala’s scar on her tiny misshapen nose. The top appeared to be crafted from a single tree. Measuring 14 inches by 4 ½ feet and six inches deep it was a little worn but still in remarkable shape. How it has warped should have roused someone’s curiosity. Lucky for me no one had realized how odd it was for such a large piece of wood to warp as much as this one had.

I only needed to see one thing to confirm what I had come here for. Above one of the legs was the Mayan word for Library. Trying not to let my excitement show I began my examination. When I got to the third leg I found it, putting every ounce of restraint toward not jumping up and cheering I made sure I examined the entire table. Getting up I turned to my host. “I’ll take it,” I said. “How much do you want for it”

“I was told by my employer not to sell it for less than $300”

“I’ll give you $325 if you promise not to let anyone else look at it until I pick it up.”

“I can manage that,” he replied, “how many days until you can pick it up.”

Thinking quickly about how long it would take to organize the appropriate transportation and a press conference the moment I touch down in Vienna. Normally two weeks would be required for such a magnificent discovery, but not this time. That’s why I only held up three fingers.

[OnyxCougar]

I really should NOT read other people's stuff before I write my own, but I did and strangely enough, what I had planned on doing is very silimar to Els' story. *sigh* Great minds.....

[lumberjim]

cougar,
there will be a new one up here on thursday.

[Sun_Sparkz]

The stinging in my eyes was like the feeling when you wake up in the morning after a big night out on the town, sore from the late night and smoky rooms. Disillusionment surrounded my thoughts as I tried to rise from my pillow, throbbing in my muscles brought the realization that I couldn't move.

silence.

darkness.

panic struck my every thought and I broke into a cold sweat. I tried to scream but the straining in my lungs became too much to bear, silence was the only noise I made. a cool hand enveloped mine and stroked my fingers into assurance. a light turned on and slowly I could make out the fuzzy images of 4 people surrounding me. their mouths were moving but I could not hear the words. their faces filled with sadness and questioning, giving me pleading looks for queries I could not respond to.

Days pass, and laying there I had a lot of time to think about things, though I could not remember the circumstances that surrounded my hospitalization. Sometimes late at night, I had dreams I was running for the train, I was going to miss it and be stuck at the intimidating central station for another hour, I couldn't afford that risk, so I dart through the park. then I see the blood, its mine.

Every night the sequences become clearer, as does my sight and my hearing. my big brother comes to visit me everyday. he is furious about the attack. I worry about him, he has such a temper. he wont stop asking me about the night it happened, I'm sick of talking about it to him, to dad, to the police. I just want to forget. but the dreams wont let me forget. and my voice refuses to ask them all to stop.

"how many were there?"

"was anything said to you?"

"what do you remember Samantha, you have to try and communicate with me!"

the trees in the park were swaying in the wind, it was a cold night and they looked like dancing demons looming above me, drawing me in and exorcising my fear. I remember the shadows, the figures were cast upon the ground from the street lamp behind me, closing in. I try to run faster, but they are over me like a hawk to a hen. my trepidation crippling my competency to fight back, I fall to the ground and the faces tile my pupils like reminiscent mosaic evidence.


He is sure it was him. The "love of my life" Rick. his anger builds every day as I try to speak.

"it was him I know it" As he tries to convince everyone else. " that bastard Rick used to belt her just for going out with friends, and now she has left him, and was on another date that night, there is no denying the facts that stare us right in the face!"

he looks to me, my thoughts will not bond with my vocal cords.

"Was it him Samantha? was it? just make some sort of sign and I will kill that son of a bitch I swear it, no one does this to my sister and gets away with it!"

every fibre of my being pulls together, it takes a years worth of energy to make my hand form the shape that I need it to. to me, it seems like a logical and accurate communication of the circumstance, I didn't even think it could be taken any other way.

" yes.. yes.. right! yes it was that prick, that's it!"

" now Simon, don't you do anything crazy" my aunty tries to calm him.

" you saw it as clear as I did! didn't you see her hand? she said yes! she gave me the sign, it said ok, SHE SAID OK! "

____________________________________

Being at home was hard. Just being back inside the house reminded me of Simon all too often, and I really didn't want to think of that. I had been to see him in the prison a few days after I was out of hospital. All my senses functioning I braved the sight of my protective sibling. The reunion was stiff, and my heart bled with bittersweet love and hatred for him.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't stand to see you like that" He looked so small, restrained behind the small school like table.

"I know"

" I thought you'd never get better, I thought you might die. I just couldn't sit back and do nothing"

" I know"

" I thought you told me it was him! I thought.... "

" I know, I know."

" I was just so sure it was him....I though you were telling me OK." he whispers " So what now?"

" they have arrested the attackers. It was the trio from the table next to where Rick and I were having dinner, on date you know, to work things out. . . "

I try not to lose it again, sometimes i think the tears will never stop. I look at Simon:

"Simon it wasn't Rick, it was the guys from the restaurant, that's why I held up three fingers"