Trick

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  • esupin
    FFR Player
    • Nov 2003
    • 1756

    #1

    Trick

    1: Three Apples

    Rudy 7's.
    Nacogdoches, Texas.
    Wednesday, April 1st, 1992.

    Armin parks his silver van in the parking lot and quietly opens the door, careful not to wake the sleeping girl in the backseat. He strides over to the sun-faded service station with his long legs and walks in, shielding his eyes from the blazing afternoon sun.

    “Afternoon, sir,” says the clerk, a thin, high school aged boy.

    “Hey,” replies Armin. His eyes roam over the ceiling of the store instead of glancing at the clerk. He spots a lone camera stooped behind the counter, its eyes on the entrance and nothing else. Armin takes another look around the store and spots the beverage cooler in the back. Walking over, he takes out a Coke and ambles to the neighboring shelves and proceeds to quietly stuff candy bars into his jacket’s modified inside pocket. Then he walks back to the counter, grabs an apple from the stand, and places it and the Coke on the counter.

    “You reading The Great Gatsby?”

    The clerk takes his eyes off the book and nods. “For school.”

    “How far are you?”

    “In the middle,” says the clerk as he rings up the Coke.

    “Want to know what happens?”

    “No, sir. That would ruin it.”

    Armin shrugs and moves toward the exit. Then, he stops and turns back. “Gatsby gets popped in his pool by George. What a freaking idiot.” He takes a large bite out of the apple and leaves the store, grinning.
    _ _ _ _ _

    Armin walks back to the car and puts the apple in his jacket pocket. He leans down, glancing at the young girl in the backseat, still asleep. He knocks on the windowpane.

    “Adriana! Time to get up, sleepyhead.” The girl stirs and yawns, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands. Armin opens the door and waves, beckoning her to come out.

    “What time is it, daddy?”

    “Three, four o’clock.”

    “I had a dream where I was with my friend Lilly and she and I and oh, also Randy went and ate ice cream and-”

    “We’re not in Massachusetts anymore, honey.” Armin waves a ten dollar bill at his daughter. “Get yourself a soda and bring back two apples, too.”
    _ _ _ _ _

    As the afternoon traffic passes lazily by, Armin watches Adriana as she sits on the hood of his car, attacking the apple with the only section of her mouth that did not have a gap. He smiles.

    “Slow down there. You don’t want to lose another tooth, do you?”

    She pauses and looks up. “Dad?”

    “Yep?”

    “Wow will the tooth fairy find me in Texas? No one ever told her we were going on a trip.”

    “Don’t worry. You can save the tooth for when we get back.”

    “And when are we getting back, daddy?”

    “Soon.”

    “But when?”

    “Soon.”

    “But-”

    Armin shushes his daughter. “Let me show you a trick.”

    “Cool! I love your tricks. They’re wicked awesome!”

    “See this?” Armin holds out the other apple Adriana had bought and takes a large bite. “Watch.”

    He waits for a truck to pass the road, and lobs the apple into the truck bed. “No more apple, right?”

    Adriana shook her braided hair. “Nope.”

    “But look here…” Armin takes out the apple in his pocket. “…What’s this?”

    “Whoa! It’s another apple!”

    “And it has the same bite mark on it, too.”

    “Whoa! Cool!”

    “Your mom can’t do anything as cool as that, right?” Armin asks as he ushers Adriana back into the car.

    “Nope.”

    “That’s because your mom’s a boring old bat, right?”

    “Yep. You let me stay up late and eat candy and watch TV.”

    Armin nods. “That’s because your mom’s-” He slams the door shut after Adriana climbs in. “-a freaking b!tch,” he mutters below his breath.


    Let me know if you're interested in reading any more, folks.

    http://www.youtube.com/esupin
  • esupin
    FFR Player
    • Nov 2003
    • 1756

    #2
    Re: Trick

    April Showers (part 1)

    Thursday, April 2nd, 1992.

    “Good morning, Texas! With heavy downpours from the mid-west all the way down the east coast, nearly half the country is poised to receive at least an inch of rainfall today. But now, on a brighter, note here’s Matty with the sports.”

    “Actually, I don’t have much good news for you, Janice. The Rangers game has been rained out, and my basement’s probably flooded by now.”

    “Oh. Well, um, good luck with that, Matty.”

    “Why thank you, Janice.”


    “Here’s ‘er key, sir.”

    “Let’s go, Adriana.” Armin takes his eyes off the black and white television in the hotel lobby and grabs the room key. Tucking her suitcase between his massive left arm, he follows her up the steps to the second floor.

    Creeeak. He unlocks the door and places the suitcases by the crusted, grimy window.

    “Hey, daddy. Guess what I saw on the stairs.”

    Armin stares absently through the window, watching the rain flow down it in streams. “What?”

    “Cockroaches!”

    He checks his watch, muttering to himself and frowning. “Awesome.”

    No it’s not. That’s disgusting!”

    Armin reaches into his pocket and fishes out his worn leather wallet. “Awesome.”

    “Heyyy. You’re not even listening, are you?”

    He reaches into the wallet and pulls out a ripped napkin. “No, I heard you. Cockroaches, right?”

    “Yeahhh? So what about cockroaches?”

    “Well,” Armin replies as he scoops Adriana up in his arms. “I know your mother would probably run out of the hotel screaming if she ever saw a cockroach.”

    “Yep.”

    “But daddy didn’t raise his little girl to be a wuss like mommy, right?”

    “Nope.”

    “That’s right. Now, daddy’s got to make a phone call. Why don’t you go back to the lobby and watch some TV?”
    _ _ _ _ _

    Boston, MA.

    “Freaking f***ing weather.”

    “I know,” James replies, unbuckling his seat belt. “Not helping your cold, is it?”

    “That and my knee I blew out a while back. It's so goddam* hard to move during these rainy days.”

    “Want me to pick up the coffee for you, Bob?”

    James’s partner chuckled. “Heh. Coffee. Remember when you spilled the coffee all over the receptionist's desk?”

    “Alright. Come on, now. It’s not that funny anymore.”

    “You’re right. Now it’s hilarious.” James’s partner starts laughing uncontrollably at his own joke.

    “Wow, Bob. That joke was weak.” James gets out of the car, tucking in his jacket to avoid the gusts of rain driving down on him.
    Last edited by esupin; 06-21-2006, 04:32 PM.

    http://www.youtube.com/esupin

    Comment

    • SnappleManiac
      FFR Player
      • Apr 2006
      • 73

      #3
      Re: Trick

      ummmm very good...
      ...

      Comment

      • esupin
        FFR Player
        • Nov 2003
        • 1756

        #4
        Re: Trick

        Whoa. It's been a while. For anyone too lazy to read the first two parts, a man named Armin has checked into a hotel in Texas with his daughter for unknown reasons. Meanwhile, James and his partner are two cops in Boston, just doing their job...

        April Showers(cont.)

        He opens the door to the Dunkin Donuts and strolls over to the counter.

        The cashier nods. “Officer.”

        “Hi. Two Original Blends, please.”

        “Sure thing, boss. Coming right up.” The cashier rubs out his cigarette and turns to fill the coffee. “Here ya go, boss.”

        Outside, James’s partner beckons him from inside the cruiser. James opens the door and places the cups in the cup holders, careful not to get his ponytail caught in the straws.

        “Hey, Bob. You’ll never guess what the cashier called-”

        His partner brushes back his thinning hair and holds out an arthritic index finger. “We got a call, James.”

        “Really?”

        “Domestic disturbance. Some lady’s demanding to be let into an apartment, and won’t leave. She was screaming at people and stuff. The landlord had to call the department.”

        “Oh.”

        “Sound like my wife when she locked herself out of her car and went menopausal. And then she had to pick up my son from football practice.”

        “Oh.”

        “On the same day!” His partner chuckles, laughing at his own joke again. “Eh? Don’t you get it? On the same day!"

        “Oh, yeah,” James replies. I don’t get it.

        “Anywho,” his partner said, squinting at the back windshield covered with rain drops and backing up the police cruiser, “just don't do anything stupid, rookie."
        _ _ _ _ _

        James's partner parks the patrol car in the parking lot, and the two head for the entrance of the prosaic, five-story apartment with burnt-red bricks and a tiny balcony outside each room. As they approach, a tall, thin man with a leather jacket waves to them, leaving a semicircular trail of smoke from the cigarette between his fingers.

        "The lady's on the third floor, room 304," the man calls out. "Been here for hours now. Says she won't leave until someone opens the door for her, but I’ve never seen her around. Started whacking me and this other guy with her purse."

        "Got it," James's partner yells back.

        They walk into the lifeless lobby and enter the cramped elevator. Overhead, a lone light bulb flickers on and off, animating the Witch's Woods poster left hanging since Halloween. James hits the Close Door button, but nothing happens.

        "Crap." He hits it again, and this time the button lights up, and the door slides to a close. After a few more moments, the elevator jolts upward.

        "So," James says as the elevator stops at the second floor and an old man with a cane gets on. "I hear good things about Reservoir Dogs."

        "That's good," his partner replies. “Shoulda starred Dustin Hoffman, though.”

        "Yeah, but you think every movie should star Dustin Hoffman. It-"

        The old man stares up at James, wagging his finger. "How can a police officer condone that movie?"

        James exchanges glances with his partner, who gives him a don't say anything stupid look. "It just seems like a good movie, sir."

        "Because there's lots-o-violence and a few f-bombs sprinkled in?" The old man shakes his head, looking at James's partner. "Kids these days. Am I right?"

        James's partner smiles.

        "Anyways," the man continues. "It's all because of those damn liberals. I swear, Clinton is going to mess up the economy and I'm going to die a poor man here instead of being able to move to Florida, and my wife thinks he's handsome but I know the truth- he’s a pervert and you ever hear the way he talks? He sounds like a drunk Texan stuck in a mud hole and I swear one of these days-"

        “Our stop,” James interrupts as the elevator door opens. “Have a nice day, sir.” James and his partner step out of the elevator.

        “Are you a liberal?” the old man in the elevator asks James.

        “Um, I don’t know.”

        “Aha! I knew it! Liberals! Corrupting the minds of the youth and-” the old man’s voice is drowned out as the elevator doors close.

        James takes off his cap and scratches his head. “The lady.”

        “Yeah. The lady. Just stay behind me and don’t say anything stupid.”
        _ _ _ _ _

        “He’s in here,” a woman with long, disheveled brown hair and a business suit on says, pointing at the door leading into apartment 304.

        “Good morning, ma’am.” James’s partner replies. “You know we’ve gotten some complaints about you refusing to leave the premises.”

        “He’s in here,” the woman repeats. There is makeup running down her face; she’s been crying, James realizes.

        “Maybe you could be more specific, ma’am. Who-”

        “My daughter. He took my daughter.”

        “Who?”

        “My ex-husband. He took her. I know they’re in here.”

        James opens his mouth to speak, but his partner places a well timed elbow into his side. “Well, ma'am. It could be possible that they’re actually not, right?”

        “He’s here, damn it. His car is in the parking lot.”

        “Well, I could try calling him for you if you want, ma’am.”

        “You can break the door down, can’t you?”

        “Why don’t we try something else first, ma’am?” James’s partner knocks on the door. “This is the police. If there is a mister…” He looks at the woman. “What’s his name?”

        “His name? It’s Armin.”
        Last edited by esupin; 06-21-2006, 04:33 PM.

        http://www.youtube.com/esupin

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