A "short" story by me.

            If Shorty knew one thing, it was that this was going to hurt, bad. He was falling, like a rock, towards the ground. Windows flew by as he fell through the air by a skyscraper. They turned into semi-solid streaks as his speed increased. He pondered this, his semi-conscious mind wondering why it was happening, when he hit a flagpole, and fell fully unconscious.

Bob saw what had happened, and he didn’t like it at all. It was about midday when it happened. He saw shorty get chased up the building by the leader of the mafia and his goons. Then he saw shorty on the roof having a, shall we say, “unfriendly” conversation with the mafia leader. He knew the Mafia leader would push shorty off. The last thing he saw, was probably the most important. He saw a dumpster by the building full of old mattresses. He knew what he had to do.

Quickly, he ran to the dumpster. Luckily, it was in a strange position for a truck to unload it, so it had wheels mounted on the bottom. He push with all his might, bracing his back against the dumpster and his feet against the wall of the building. The dumpster slowly rolled into the street. He pushed it into what he thought was a close enough position for what he had in mind.

He then saw the mafia leader wave a hand in the general direction of shorty, and walk away. Bob knew what was coming, but still wasn’t prepared. shorty was sent sprawling by a direct hit from a goon’s fist. Bob saw that his initial calculation wasn’t enough, he hadn’t put in the force of the goon’s blow. He ran to the other side of the dumpster, braced himself on the curb and pushed. The dumpster moved, and got stuck in a rut. He muttered a vile curse under his breath. And heaved again, knowing his friends life depended on it. The dumpster moved, but only after bob had every inch of his body on fire from the sheer exertion. Bob had a last minute thought. He climbed in the dumpster, and arranged the mattresses in a bowl shape. He was just in time. No sooner had he jumped down than he heard a muted thud, and realized that his bowl design might not work if his calculations were off. He turned around, only to see his friend flying out of the bowl towards him. He was extremely glad that one mattress did not fit with the rest, and that he had taken it out when designing the bowl, for it was right behind him. He planted his feet, held out his arms, and otherwise prepared for the impact awaiting.

Shorty hit bob like a truck. Despite his nickname, shorty was anything but short. He was 6’ 8” and had massively broad shoulders. He weighed in at 230 lbs. that is to say, bob broke two ribs just from the impact. his last thought before falling unconscious was to say, “call 911” to whoever happened to be near by, as if that’s not what they were already doing. After that, he welcomed the wave of blackness that was overcoming him, as it not only shielded him from the pain of his broken ribs, but also from the pain of his complete and total over exertion.

Bob awoke late that evening, only to find that shorty was not yet awake. He was stuck in a rib-supporting torso piece. He was told he was to wear it until his ribs healed, which would not be for at least a few weeks.

Approximately a few weeks later, bob was able to have the blasted torso piece taken off. The thing was getting incredibly itchy. Shorty had awoken the next day, and his news was not good. Briefly, the mafia leader had seen shorty’s skill in fighting as well as his large size, and wanted shorty in the mafia. Of course shorty had refused. The mafia leader did not take refusal lightly, or well. He had thought, “well, lets see here, this man now knows of our little, ‘organization,’ and he would doubtlessly testify against us. If I have ever learned a golden rule in this business, it is to destroy the evidence. I see him, against the railing of this sky scraper, wanting to ‘get rid of’ him I think a simple ‘push’ will suffice.” The mafia leader enjoyed round-about logic, it made him seem more crazy. When people thought he was crazy, they feared him more. He had carefully explained his logic to shorty before gesturing for one of his goons to dispose of shorty. With a single underhanded punch, the goon had sent shorty over. The mafia leader had walked away from the rail before he could see the commotion with the dumpster on the ground. The goons had noticed, but didn’t think it important. Bob had obviously saved shorty’s life. Shorty was going to be a bit longer to recover than bob, but he would recover with almost no sign of his fall. Immediately after he had shown bob his side of the story, he vowed revenge on the mafia leader.

About a month later, Shorty was let out of the hospital. He directly went to working out to get back in shape after all that time in the hospital. Every day he practiced with his daggers. Every day he did countless push ups, bench presses, crunches, and other things until he got back into shape. It would take a while, but shorty didn't care how long it took, he just wanted to complete his vow of revenge against the mafia leader.

Shorty and bob were waiting, they were waiting for some of the Mafia's new recruits to come by, so that bob and shorty could ambush them. They looked down from their vantage point from the fire escape outside a friend's apartment. When they needed to, they could go into the apartment, hiding themselves from view. They had been waiting for hours now. They had been tipped off by a trusted informant of theirs that the mafia had been recruiting, and that the new recruits were coming through this area for some reason. Bob sighed, it would be a long time to wait.

Exactly a long time later, the new goons started down the alley. About halfway through, they were ambushed. There were five goons and only two attackers, but it was obvious that the goons would not be on the winning side today. Shorty and bob took out two of them in the initial momentum of their attack. Then, shorty drew his daggers and threw one at a goon, hitting him hilt first on the temple. “bullseye.” he thought. That was three down two to go already. Bob had drawn his pipe, and was hitting the goon repeatedly as fast as he could.

Bob had a long steel pipe, approximately 5 feet long, that he used as a sort of staff. He could hit with blinding speed, deadly accuracy, and –most importantly– crushing force. Shorty was not any worse. In fact he was incredible with those daggers. He did not go berserk, like the average goon, swinging his dagger through the air with all his might. Instead, he fought tactically. He would allow the opponent to attack first in close combat, but when his opponent was a distance away, he preferred the dagger throwing method, striking when the opponent is off guard. Not many people had fought shorty and won. Actually, he didn't think he could remember a time at all.

Now he raised his dagger as if to throw it, and watched the goon tense. He swung down like he was throwing it and immediately brought it back up. The goon fell for it, he dodged the fake blow, making the second blow much easier. “CLONK!” said the dagger and head together. But the goon didn't hear, he was to busy trying to escape the ringing in his ears. bob did one final blow to his goon that sent him staggering back into a wall, the goon hit the wall head first, and fell unconscious.

Shorty and bob surveyed the scene before them, the had just won a two against fie battle. Bob said, “you seem to be in slightly better shape than when you came out of the hospital.”

Shorty replied, “you seem to swing a little harder at the Mafia's goons than you usually swing.”

bob pondered that before saying,“well, thats understandable, they did try to kill you.”

Shorty accepted the fact,“true.”

they then, by unspoken agreement, began to search the goons for anything useful. “First goon,”

“nope.”

“Second goon,”

“nope.”

“Third goon,”

“nope.”

“Fourth goon,”

“yes.”

“Fifth goon... wait forth goon?”

“yes.”

shorty rushed over to the fourth goon. Bob was right, he did have something useful. He had a paper with Google maps directions to the mafia hideout. Shorty laughed.

“just wait till the mafia leader hears how we found his hideout!”

bob joined in, “ha! Yeah, he'll probably fire people left and right... that is... IF... he survives our little mission.”

shorty amended the statement, “ but there is pretty low chance of that.”

they both laughed.

shorty and bob called it a night.

The next morning, bob and shorty woke early. They had a job to do, a job that might change the city. They left a half an hour before dawn, Fallowing the map's instructions. They got to their destination around 9 AM. They prepared their weapons, “here goes nothing” bob said. He knew that his party of the plan was to rush in to shorty's aid when he gave the signal.

Shorty grunted in agreement. just as they were about to enter the hideout, shorty noticed some things. First, he could see the mafia leader up in an office of the building they were at the base of. Second there was a fire escape going up the building. Third there were dogs on the other side of the door they were about to go through. (he knew this by the tell tale sucking noises that seemed to come from a dog trying to sniff under a door.) he also knew that there would be a person coming through that door any minute now, to see what the dogs had found. Shorty held up a hand to stop bob. Then, he pointed to the fire escape. Bob nodded his agreement.

They started up the fire escape, and they were not a moment too soon, as soon as they were hidden from sight by the corner of the building, the goon and his dog came out of the building. The goon did not see anyone, so he assumed that the dog just wanted some of the garbage on the ground. He pulled it inside the building, muttering a (maybe not so mild) swear under his breath.

Bob, wondering why they were taking this route, but trusting shorty's judgment, followed shorty up the escape. Shorty pointed up, bob could now see the mafia leader in an office. Then it clicked in his mind, “thats why we are taking this route.” he thought, “but, how are we going to get in without him spotting us? Oh well, shorty wouldn't do this if he didn't have a plan. I wonder what it is...”

he didn't have to wait long to find out. Shorty climbed up the fire escape, without going close to the mafia leader's office. Then, once he was one floor above the office, he climbed around the escape, hanging on the outside. Then, he used the escape as a pole, and swung down quickly, feet first, hitting the window. Bob was thinking, “oh.... now I get it!”

           The mafia leader heard the crash, and turned in time to see shorty flying at him. The first though he had was, “but, he's dead!” the second thought he had was that the “dead man” was flying at him. His brain tried to process a third thought, but it didn't have time. Once the air left his lungs from shorty hitting him, there was not enough oxygen for his brain to process a third though. He sat there gasping, waiting for his mind to start working again.

           Shorty felt a satisfying crunch when he hit the mafia leader. He then was dissatisfied when he found that it was only the chair that was broken. When he had hit the mafia leader, he had jumped free of the flying body, so as not to crash as well. He now pounced on the gasping figure. He drew his knife and held it up to the mafia leader's throat.

The mafia leader's brain was again functioning, and his third thought was aloud to be processed, it was, “I had better get out of the way.” he now struggled to “move out of the way,” but shorty was already on top of him. The mafia leader pronounced as terrible and bitter an insult he could, but in only came out in gasps and it lost most of its dramatic effect. He muttered a curse under his breath. Shorty smiled evilly, mocking the mafia leader's evil smile.“now now, you wouldn't want to insult someone would you?” shorty said to him.

           The leader replied through clenched teeth, “of course I would! You complete and total...”

           He was cut off by a punch to the face by the hilt of shorty's dagger. Shorty, thinking the leader was unconscious, stood up and moved across the room, towards the safe. The mafia leader stood up, showing a profound lack of unconsciousness, and pulled out his secret supply of throwing knives. Shorty heard the movement and, instinctively,swung his arm in a sideways arc, throwing th knife as he went. The knife hit the second drawer of the stash, sealing it closed. The mafia leader jumped back in shock as the knife suddenly seemed to sprout from the drawer in front of his face. Shorty already was throwing his last dagger, but, in his rage at the leader, had forgotten to wait for him to dodge. The leader ducked. The knife hit the wall where his head had been. He knew that this was his chance.

           He sprung up, two knives already in his hands. He flung them simultaneously. Shorty just barely dodged. The leader started throwing them one at a time in a long stream. He had a large supply of them, so he could keep it up for a while. Shorty on the other hand, knew that he could not dodge for as long as the leader could throw. So, he called in Bob, “Bob! this is the signal! Signal! Signal!” he had just said it when a knife hit his shirt, pinning him to the wall.

          The mafia leader roared in triumph. He could call in some guards, but he would rather do this alone. He picked up a piece of his broken chair and began beating shorty with it. Shorty was only semi-conscious when the leader said, “shorty, you are a failure.” no sooner had it left his mouth when Bob came crashing in. he swung his pipe at the leader, hitting him under the chin and sending him sprawling backwards. But shorty knew that Bob was no match for the leader. Now, he wanted to protect his friend more than kill the mafia leader. This realization caused a surge of adrenalin throwing him back into full consciousness. He took the knife out of the wall and stepped between Bob and the leader, just in time to block a blow to Bob. The Mafia leader was shocked. Shorty said in a matter of fact way, “no, you are the failure. Failures don't have any friends.”

          Shorty prepared to stab him, then remembered his protection of Bob. And dropped the dagger. Instead he punched the mafia leader in the face, hard enough to break the leader's jaw, as well as dislocate a few of shorty's fingers. He ignored the pain. He said to Bob, “Use his phone, call the police.”

          Shorty now became aware that bob was now looking at him with an expression close to awe.

He smiled weakly, “if you don't close your mouth, bugs will fly in.”

Bob promptly shut his mouth. He was about to say something, but then he saw how tired shorty was as he slumped into a chair. He decided not to. He turned away, picked up the phone, and dialed “91....”

he stopped at the sound of shorty's body hitting the floor.

          He turned around. shorty had slumped out of his chair, unconscious. He finished dialing, “...1”

he got the police to come as well as an ambulance for shorty.

          The police arrived later, with an ambulance for shorty. Getting beaten with a chair is not exactly good for your health. Shorty had fallen unconscious as soon as the adrenaline wore off. He now awoke, lying in a hospital bed, to find that bob was in a chair next to him. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry, so it came out in more of a strangled croak. He gestured to bob for water, and bob got it.

          “apparently, you were concussed.” bob said.

          “really. I didn't think I would be, I mean after he hit me with the chair and all.” shorty replied sarcastically.

           Bob smiled and in the same tone replied, “well, you seem to be feeling a bit better.”

           then.... there was silence.

           Bob broke it by saying, “they are having me wear another blasted chest piece.”

           shorty laughed.

           Then, more silence.

           Shorty broke it this time. by saying, “I wish we could have known his name, then we could curse him better.”

           bob laughed, “oh well... we'll just have to curse him anyways.”

           A few days later, they found that the mafia leader had committed suicide in the jail. He had used the materials in his cell to sharpen a piece of his dinner plate, then he had killed his cell-mate as well as commit suicide.

           “Good riddens!” bob said, shorty reluctantly and outwardly agreed. But there was now a soft, doubting part of him that he had not known was there before... a part wanting company and friendship, not simple muscle power.

Hello world

Hello!

In this blog I plan to post writing works of mine, whether they are things made up on the spot, or something I have been working on for a while. I hope you enjoy reading what I have writen.