Mixed Stories

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Πέμπτη, 28 Ιουλίου 2016

Of punches, the Devil and the Church pt2



His opponent was relentless in his pursuit, that is generally a positive attribute to a character, as it was John was finding himself unable to appreciate it as his opponents pursuit was to keep punching him until the end of time, or until the end of the round, or until a knockout, whatever came first.

After eleven rounds of struggling the blissful end came at last.
John was feeling retched.
The only thing that was on his mind after the fiasco that he was forced to call an official fight and his horrible day, was the need of a cold beer, and a pizza.

He was looking for a cab when Linda appeared beside him.
-         Well that was pathetic.
-         Good evening to you to, my fair lady.
-          I mean I have seen my fair share of bad maches, but this one… oh boy, this one takes the cake.
-         You are going to rub it in aren’t you?
-         An easy fight, nothing to worry about.
-         For the love of God Linda, please, I am in pain and tired, ok? He was beter than I thought, he was faster and his technique had improved by a magnitude that surprised me. I… I fucked up.
-         Sure you did.
Her expression softened.
-         It happens to all of us darling, don’t take it too hard, now here is your cub, be a dear and call me when you get home will you?
She handed him a ripped piece of paper with a hastily written number on it.
-         Thanks Linda, see you tomorrow.
-         Rest well John, have a goodnight.
There isn’t a person on earth that can dispute that Lindas wish was whole heartly and sincere.
    
     Father Charles was about to close the church when he noticed something in the bowl with the holy water, perplexed at his strange finding and what it could mean, he didn’t notice the young man that came in, nor the fact that he was holding a gun.
     Now what that black feather could be?
-         Hey priest! I want the money!
-         What now son? Said the priest as he carefully removed the feather from the holy water.
-         The money old man! Give me the money!
-         Yeah yeah, one second and I will be right there with you. Was he a smell coming from the feather? He brought it closer to his face and took a deep breath.
-         Man I am so not joking, I have a gun here, and I can totally kill you and take the money on my own.
-         Give me one second son, and stop pointing this thing at me, he said without even taking his eyes of the feather, somebody might get hurt. It was then that the feather caught fire and a strong, foul smell filled the church.
     In a mater of moments, the young man was on his knees puking. The priest unfazed left the church and went to the nearest garbage can to toss the charred remains of the feather, went to his office and brought a towel for the kid.
-         Now how can I help you?
-         What the?
-         Oh nothing toy concern your self, just something I have to take care of, and oh, can I please have the gun?
-         What? No! my gun! I am trying to rob you here!
-         Oh its that what it is? I am sorry but you are doing a terrible job at it, also its not a good idea to rob people, or houses, and is especially bad idea to try to rob the house of God, would like some water? yes? Here you are. Where was I? oh yeah, so give me the gun and go at that address for some honest work.
-         Huh?
-         So we agree, and without hesitating he took the gun from his baffled audients and molded in his hands like it was mud to the shape of a ball, he made a sudden turn and throw it like he was playing basketball at a garbage can. He missed. He walked over picked it and put it slowly inside tha can.
-         I always forget to break the wrist, always, no be a good kid and run over there, they are expecting you, I have a demon to hunt.

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