untitled (standard:drama, 1138 words) [2/2] show all parts
Author: Lawless	Added: Apr 09 2001	Views/Reads: 3001/1884	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
more of the untitled story.

I stepped off the curb, and into the street.  I had looked both ways,
left and right, as I always do.  I saw no one coming.  I hadn't gone 
but half the distance to the opposite curb when out of nowhere a black 
Ford Mustang roared around the corner.  Pausing for a split second I 
stood in disbelief.  I was considering momentarily whether this was 
real or not.  Then quicker-than-instantly I adjusted my stride from my 
"slow" legs and my 'limp and strut,' to a rarely used 'hurried' pace 
with my legs churning pavement as I hustled over to the safe side of 
the street.  I had quickly darted out of the way, and narrowly missed 
becoming a new aftermarket upgrade to the front end of the 1992 Ford 
machine. 

I stood on the opposite sidewalk puzzled.  Wondering what person would
do such a thing, or who had I possibly aggravated so much so, that they 
would attempt to kill me.  So far today I had already gotten an 
incredible scare on my computer.  I had not been able to contact my 
brother Drew and I feared that he was still in trouble.  I had gone to 
his apartment to check on him.  While I was there I almost killed his 
girlfriend with a kitchen knife when she knocked on the door.  Plus now 
I had nearly been struck by a fast moving car.  My day had certainly 
been a peculiar one so far. 

I eventually realized that this most recent shocking event was more
likely a youth's mistake.  It was maybe his first time in the seat of 
such a strong automobile.  Or maybe around dusk, with me walking home 
from work looking great in my black pants and leather jacket, I was not 
the most visible object on the roadway.  There were more factors that I 
had not developed, and chose to let it go.  I returned my gun to my 
shoulder holster. 

I was very close to my apartment now and I arrived, walking, in only
seven short minutes.  I had chosen to leave my bike in my garage this 
time.  I stepped into my place as the clock on the mantle over the 
fireplace finished chiming 8pm.  My sweetheart was lying down on the 
living room couch.  She was sipping a homemade margarita.  I walked 
over to her and took the beverage from her soft hand and then put the 
glass to my lips to sample her creation.  "Better than last night hun," 
I told her, before she sat up and gave me a kiss to welcome me home. 

"Oh Law," she started, "Its so boring in this little place without you,
darling. Why do you have to go out for such long times?" "Listen babe, 
sometimes we do what we have to do to put a little food on the table." 
I responded the same way every night, when she posed her usual 
'burning' question. Sarcastically I continued, "You know sweetie, it 
takes a commitment to a job to keep us living in this high lifestyle."  
She usually stopped her persistent questioning with my comic remarks, 
and then gave up until next time.  Today was no different. Instead she 
ran to the kitchen, and called for me to follow her.  She wanted to 
show me the groceries she had purchased earlier.  She stood by the 
kitchen counter with the excitement of a young child on Christmas day.  
"Look hun, look what I bought for us at the store.  Will you make us a 
nice dinner?  Do you have time?" I said happily, "Of course babe.  You 
name it darling and we will have it.  That is what I have always told 
you.  What use is my ability to cook, if no one wants to eat?" I opened 
some of the paper bags and found the ingredients of her favorite 
dinner. 

Fresh lobster, a small collection of aged cheeses, plus some Chinese
egg-roll sheets, and many other small tidings that were fundamentals of 
my delicious 'Lobster raviolis,' her absolute favorite. In the meantime 
she would toss together a salad, and soon we would dine at our little 
table "for two" over by the balcony window of my 12th floor penthouse 
suite, room number 643. 

I decided to leave the details of my day for another time.  I always
scared her too much when I revealed any of the trouble I got into 
during my adventures at work.  This day of surprises would just get her 
pumped-up again for another of her speeches when she tell me about how 
I should change professions.  How a man with a college degree, doesn't 
need to be out on the streets fighting bad-guys. 

...And then the phone rang.  I would let it ring though; I wanted to
continue rolling around with my girl.  Now it was approaching midnight. 
 Dinner was long since eaten and I was happily earning my rewards for 
satisfying my girlfriend with food. Four rings later the caller got the 


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