Ok wrote another chapter :)
Chapter 1:
May 10th, 2007. Orlando Florida.
tap…tap….taptaptaptap
SLAMSLAMSLAMSLAM!!!
“Bill, bill wake the hell up man, Jesus!”
Bill Strachan opened his eyes, sitting bolt upright in his bed. He didn’t know what on earth was going on, all he knew was that he had a massive hangover from the night out “gothing it up” with his girlfriend at his favorite little Orlando dive, after a full day's classes at the University of Central Florida, and something had woken him up.
With wide eyes, he looked around the room, scrubbing at the stubble on his cheeks. Bill was quite tall, and had a somewhat stocky, large frame, something his grandfather attributed to “A Viking in the woodpile somewhere along the line”. His girlfriend joked about it, saying he was better suited for burning villages and breaking stuff, than taking notes in a history class.
Normally he had clear green eyes, and curly blond hair kept closely cut. Today, however, those eyes were more than a little cloudy, the hair looking more like he was in a fight with a cow with an oral fixation the night before, and lost.
“Unghh” he rather ineloquently stated….what a way to start the day.
From outside his darkly curtained window, on the second floor of a rather seedy college apartment came a keening cry.
“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you…WAKE UP and let’s go to Denny’s for breakfast!”
It was his friend, Jack. “Christ doesn’t that man sleep?” he wondered to himself.
SLAM SLAM SLAM…THWAP!
In a surprisingly lithe motion for someone with a head that felt like the hangover gnomes had been pulling a double shift with ball-peen hammers inside of it, Bill was up, crossed the 4 steps to the window, and had thrown back the curtains and opened the window just in time to recieve a face full of dry paint roller on a long stick.
“Awww Gawdamnit!” shouted Bill as he covered his face, reeling from the smell of mold and cheap latex paint, and the impact.
Laughter ensued from below.
“Oops…shit man, sorry!...uh..Good morning!” Jack managed to get out before degenerating into gales of laughter.
Bill experienced a second of back and forth within his head regarding the merits of committing homicide at 8:30 in the morning, on a Thursday. “Naww…then I’d have to explain it to his parents. plus I couldn’t convince the cops that it would be self defense…I can just see it now” he thought:
“Officer, He was assaulting me with a paint roller, I thought I was going to die!”
After winning the argument with himself, Bill warily re-approached the window, and groaned:
“Be down in a minute Jack, and put down the poor maintenance guy’s stuff, ok?”
“You got it dude, meet you at the car”.
Jack had an old rusty Isuzu Trooper, 4 wheel drive, faded red, and 2 tons of ugly. To Bill, it looked like it was only missing a handle, and cartoon characters on the side, and it would have been an oversized children’s lunch-box. But Jack loved it, calling it his “Koopah”. “Koopah” spent more time up to its hubs, according to Jack, in sugar sand and mud, as it did on pavement. “Rust just means more drainage”, he was fond of saying. “Maybe” Bill thought as he sat in the passenger seat, “but I don’t think I could put up with driving this thing around in Orlando.”
Bill leaned back in the seat and shaded his eyes, as Jack fought with the morning traffic.
“So dude, have a good time last night?” Jack said, in between swerves.
“Ungh…too good”