1 votes
Oompa Loompa Boy
Posted 23 September 2012 - 02:40 AM
Glad you noticed now! I thought it would be funny to include that detail, but I obviously didn't make it clear enough
Ah well, live and learn...
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
I love how you're putting references to the show in there, like him having the Encyclopedia of Infinite Knowledge, and him not picking up his pants.
Bubble travel is the way of the future!
Posted 23 September 2012 - 02:49 AM
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 24 September 2012 - 03:06 AM
Black Widow Pretty
Posted 24 September 2012 - 03:12 AM
I love being a judge on Nobody's Got Talent But Me.
Posted 24 September 2012 - 11:54 PM
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 25 September 2012 - 07:58 AM
I'm the same way. My family calls me the scent hound, because I'm always sniffing and scuttling around looking for the source of various smells. LOLI also love that Tex has scent memory. I have a pretty good one myself and can name when and where I've smelled something before. I also have a couple friends who wear distinct colognes and perfumes and I can tell when they arrive by their smell alone.
I love being a judge on Nobody's Got Talent But Me.
Posted 25 September 2012 - 09:31 PM
I'm the same way. My family calls me the scent hound, because I'm always sniffing and scuttling around looking for the source of various smells. LOL
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
uwu
Posted 27 September 2012 - 02:30 PM
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 28 September 2012 - 01:44 AM
**grabs popcorn and other such**
/le wait
Black Widow Pretty
Posted 28 September 2012 - 03:47 AM
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 28 September 2012 - 04:42 AM
uwu
Posted 28 September 2012 - 01:56 PM
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 28 September 2012 - 11:36 PM
Well, I've re-written this like 15 times, and I think there comes a point where you start to over-work a text, and it just starts getting worse instead of better.
Hopefully the chapter is clear enough, but if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask - I'm never fully sure whether my writing makes sense or not 
Anyway, here's part 5!
*******************************************************************************
It was nearly dusk by the time James Neutron shuffled tiredly into his bedroom. The kerosene lamp he carried threw long shadows across Tex, who was waiting for him, unseen in the corner chair. She gave him the once-over as he set down the lamp on the nightstand and removed his hat. The Sheriff was a man of average height, with an oversized head and mussed-up brown hair. He wore a faded red shirt and a pair of the same trousers she'd tripped over earlier.
Tex chewed her thumbnail as he removed his gun belt and chucked it onto the bed. Unarmed and oblivious. Good. The Sheriff picked up the light again, and then unwittingly gazed straight at her. He flinched when he realized he wasn't alone – but his grip on the lamp never faltered, and Tex was reminded of a rhyme she'd heard long ago: Drink with friends or not at all, Don't fire 'till you're ready; Beware the man who startled can, still hold his hands a-steady.
Tex could almost see the gears in his head turning as he tried to make sense of her presence. After a pause, he defaulted to the obvious question.
“Who are you?”
“I'm God's own blessèd angel,” she answered wryly, pushing up the brim of her hat. “Can't you tell by my harp and pearly white robes?”
He noticed the revolver in her hands, and his eyes flicked toward the gun belt on his bed. Tex immediately cocked her weapon.
“Uh-uh, I don't think so. You're not gonna get the drop on me, dunderhead. Now take a step back – there's a good Sheriff – and put your hands in the air.”
He did as he was told, looking her up and down as he reached skyward. “All right, what's this about? What do you want?”
Tex decided it would be fun to mess with him a little, so she said, “Well, let's think about this, shall we? You're a man. I'm a woman. We're in the bedroom ...................................... Obviously I want that Mahogany desk in your study.”
He stared dumbly, and she sighed.
“No? Not even a chuckle? Ah well, straight to business, then: this little stick-up isn't about what I want, Mr. Neutron. It's about what my client wants – and he'd very much like to see you dead.”
He flinched again, but he looked more puzzled than afraid. Finally he said, “someone hired you to kill me?”
“You've got a mind like a steel trap, sir.”
His befuddled expression transformed into a glare. It went straight through her, and Tex's heart rate increased. She knew a dangerous man when she saw one. Watch your back, came that little voice inside her head. If you let him get the better of you, you'll end up behind bars – or worse.
“Dare I ask why I'm still alive, then?” he sneered, interrupting her reverie. “If you're going to execute me, I suggest you do it now, and spare me the taunting. I'd prefer if my last seconds of life weren't monopolized by a no-count, low-down, villainous piece of scum like you.”
“Villainous piece of scum? Oh, Mr. Neutron, you positively wound me. And here I was, thinking I might just take pity on you and elect to spare your life.”
He rolled his eyes. “Right, yes, of course, and Blaise Pascal lives in my stable. Please. You're an assassin. You've probably never felt pity in your life. Spare me the theatrics, and tell me what you're after. I'd be dead ten times over already if you were thinking solely of your client's wishes.”
Smart, she thought. Sense of humor could use some work though.
“I'm curious about you, Mr. Neutron,” she said matter-of-factly. “I want to see what kind of a man leaves his front door unlocked, but keeps a double-bolted trapdoor hidden under a rug in his bedroom.”
She could see the surprise on his face. “You found that?”
“Uh-huh. You might want to try picking up your pants.”
He snorted. “Well, if you're looking for a job as a housekeeper, I'm afraid I'm going to have to reject your application.”
Tex couldn't help but laugh. “I'm still technically employed, thanks. My client just failed to read the fine print in our contract.” She cleared her throat before narrating the terms. “Ahem. As stated in paragraph 5, line 6 of the homicide-for-hire agreement, I reserve the right to offer the target – that's you – a chance to save himself, provided that the target – that's you again – proves to be of more value alive than dead.”
“Value? How could I possibly be of value to you?”
“Well, that depends. There are only two types of men who matter in this world, Mr. Neutron. Those who have money –” she tapped the side of her head “– and those who have brains. Everyone else is just a scribble in the margins. Now, the fellow who hired me is a member of the rich boys' club, so if you want to trump his hand, you're gonna have to outspend him. Let me put it to you simple: pay me more than he did, and I'll hightail it out of here without another word.”
“Ah, I see how it is. And how much did he pay you, this man who sent you to put a bullet in my head?”
His angry stare was thrilling, and she challenged it with a half-mad grin. “$1,500,” she answered.
“What happens if I cannot afford the fee? What then? No wait, let me guess – my value as an asset steeply depreciates.”
“Not at all! You misjudge me, Sheriff; I am deeply sympathetic to budget constraints. If your wallet proves too thin, you can rest assured that you still possess something I hold in high esteem...your mind. You seem like a clever man, and I'd love to see you put your wits to work. The fact of the matter is, I'm hankering for some entertainment, so if you can figure out a way to surprise me...no, impress me...three times within the next week, I'll let you off the hook for free. However –” she spun the cylinder on her revolver “– I am not easily overawed, and if you fail to impress me thrice by Friday next, I'll have no choice but to carry out my client's wishes. It won't even be a murder, Mr. Neutron. You will simply disappear.”
Tex waited for his reaction, her finger hovering a hair's breadth above the trigger. The metal was fast warming to the temperature of her skin.
“$1,500 to save my life?” he said at last. “Fine.”
She kept her revolver trained on him as he stalked over to his dresser and slid it aside, exposing the wall-safe Tex had spotted earlier. Holding the kerosene lamp in his left hand, he input the combination with his right. The door swung open, and Tex tensed, ready to shoot if he pulled a weapon from the safe. Instead, he removed a bundle of paper money. The Sheriff turned to face her, running his finger along the stack to showcase each individual bill.
“Here we are,” he told her. “$1,575. My entire savings.”
“All right. Come forward slowly and drop the money at my feet. No funny business, either.”
He crossed the distance between them, and Tex nodded to herself. Order had been restored. He might have secret rooms under his house, but deep down, he was just like every other man: prosaic and buyable. Tex was about to offer another scathing remark when the Sheriff did something she wasn't expecting: he didn't drop the money. He kept right on walking until he was standing directly over her, and she had to fight the urge to shrink back in the chair. The light from the kerosene lamp flickered over both of them, flaring and dying and flaring again, as they locked gazes.
“Look at you,” he said, “sitting there with your revolver, assigning a dollar value to my existence. Is that what life and death is to you? A transaction? You sicken me. If I wanted to continue putting money into the hands of crooked scoundrels, I would've stayed in Massachusetts.”
“Massachusetts? What are you talking about?”
“I'm talking about you. About everyone like you. People who think the world can be bought and sold like a bag of flour. Well I've got news for you, Miss – what you said before, about the two types of men who matter? You couldn’t be more wrong. There's only one type that matters.” He tapped the side of his head. “And I’m going to show you which.”
With a look of contempt, the Sheriff removed the glass shield from the kerosene lamp. He tossed the shield onto the bed, and Tex stared at the exposed flame in bewilderment. The glass? Why would he take off the gl– Then it hit her like a brick wall. No. He wouldn't. There's no way in a million years...
But he did. He lowered the cash into the open flame, and the whole stack caught fire. The bills curled back like corn husks, charring and crumbling into his waiting palm. Just like that, a small fortune up in smoke – and along with it, his easy way out. Still glaring, he dumped the ashes into Tex's lap, then leaned over her.
“Impressed yet?” he said.
Tex couldn't answer.
***
Hours later, and Tex was still awake. She lay on the Sheriff's roof, listening to the chorus of nighttime sounds – crickets in the grass, the whispering wind, a whip-poor-will trilling in the faraway pines. Humphrey munched on hay inside the stable, and Tex wondered if her horse preferred its security to the open night air.
Rolling over, she gazed up into the sky. It seemed to fill all of existence, arcing from its zenith overhead right down to the tips of her peripheral vision. She knew every inch of the heavens by heart. When she was little, her Daddy had taught her the names of the constellations, but she still preferred to imagine her own. Draco was The Coiled Rattlesnake; Cepheus was The Courthouse. Cygnus was no swan...it was a vulture circling the Milky Way, and Lyra was a miniature lasso. Tex felt a kinship with these alternate constellations, because they fit her world in a way ancient myths never could.
Where, then, would a figure like James Neutron fit into the skymap she had created? Everything about him seemed out of place. She had never before met a man willing to throw away his lifeline just to one-up an opponent. What sane individual would stand over an armed killer and burn $1,575? What kind of person forsook guaranteed salvation in favor of a gamble, just to prove a point? The whole thing filled her with a frightened kind of awe. It was difficult to admit, but she could scarcely remember a time when she'd been more impressed.
If it's a challenge he wants, she thought, he'll have it. Starting tomorrow, the game begins in earnest. One down, two to go.
**********************************************************************************
JIMMY AIN'T HAVIN' NONE O' YO SASS
HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT
-Believe it or not, I actually researched the history of steel to see if "mind like a steel trap" would be an 1870s-appropriate snarky remark. Turns out, the modern era in steelmaking began with the introduction of Henry Bessemer's 'Bessemer Process' in 1858. So booyah, take that history, I know you.
-If you've ever suffered through the binomial expansion unit in Algebra class, chances are you've heard of Blaise Pascal. Pascal was a a French mathematician, physicist, inventor, writer, and Christian philosopher who lived in the 1600s; he invented, among other things, a mechanical calculator, Pascal's Triangle, and Pascal's Theorem. He is also remembered in theological circles for positing the idea that, even if we cannot know whether a God exists, there's more to be gained from wagering that he does exist (because if he doesn't, well...nothing happens, but if he does, you get rewarded for your belief). Nowadays this is known as Pascal's Wager, and is a favorite point of discussion for philosophically-minded hipster college kids everywhere 
-In case you were unclear about just how ballsy burning $1,500+ would have been in the 1870s, let me put it into perspective for you. In modern dollars, that comes out to somewhere along the lines of effing $30,000. If you're now wondering why Tex charged Eustace double that amount for one measly hit, it's because he's rich as all get-out and probably wouldn't blink at dropping 20k on an urn. She figured as much and took advantage of it. And if you're further wondering why the hell the Sheriff would have 30k in modern dollars in a safe in his room...well, you'll have to wait and find out 
hint: he's not a hooker
-Finally, for those of you unfamiliar with the northern hemisphere summer constellations, take a gander:
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
Next part: click
I'D forgive you, FJ... <3<3
Posted 29 September 2012 - 01:01 AM
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 29 September 2012 - 01:07 AM
I will tell you exactly what went on: she confiscated his gun, went and got Humphrey and shoved him in the Sheriff's stable, climbed up onto the roof, ate a bedtime snack, and attempted to fall asleep. That is all, because they just met a few hours ago you crazy pervI have a feeling what went on between them in those hours you didn't describe before Cindy was laying on his roof staring at the stars... Or am I wrong??
This is a romance, not a smutfic 
There will be actual character development before anyone swaps spit with anyone else 
What twist would you have put? I thought the cash-burning was a clever enough twist, but...It would've put a somewhat clever twist into this chapter, but oh, well.
Just like Amanda, you can PM me your prediction if you want, and if you're right I'll make you a custom animated avvie!I guess I'll have to wait and see what happens next like everyone else. I guess I have a 50/50 chance of being right or wrong.
loves to lurk
Posted 29 September 2012 - 02:15 AM
Great little rhyme! Did you make it up?Drink with friends or not at all, Don't fire 'till you're ready; Beware the man who startled can, still hold his hands a-steady.
God I love how sarcastic she is“I'm God's own blessèd angel,” she answered wryly, pushing up the brim of her hat. “Can't you tell by my harp and pearly white robes?”
He rolled his eyes. “Right, yes, of course, and Blaise Pascal lives in my stable.
“Uh-huh. You might want to try picking up your pants.”
Like you said, SNAP SNAP SNAPHe snorted. “Well, if you're looking for a job as a housekeeper, I'm afraid I'm going to have to reject your application.”
Hell yes“Impressed yet?” he said.
I've always thought cepheus looked like a buildingCepheus was The Courthouse.
You crack me up Mara-Believe it or not, I actually researched the history of steel to see if "mind like a steel trap" would be an 1870s-appropriate snarky remark. Turns out, the modern era in steelmaking began with the introduction of Henry Bessemer's 'Bessemer Process' in 1858. So booyah, take that history, I know you.
I'D forgive you, FJ... <3<3
Posted 29 September 2012 - 03:34 AM
OH!!! DUUURRR!!!I will tell you exactly what went on: she confiscated his gun, went and got Humphrey and shoved him in the Sheriff's stable, climbed up onto the roof, ate a bedtime snack, and attempted to fall asleep. That is all, because they just met a few hours ago you crazy perv
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
I knew that! XD I'm clearly too blinded by my lusty desires to realize that!Refer to my previous post; and on that note, again, DUUURRR!!!!What twist would you have put? I thought the cash-burning was a clever enough twist, but...
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
I definitely will!!Just like Amanda, you can PM me your prediction if you want, and if you're right I'll make you a custom animated avvie!
~*Mara*~ = ^.^ =
You can COUNT on that!! 
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 29 September 2012 - 03:39 AM
A bit early in the fic for that sort of "twist", don't you think?Refer to my previous post; and on that note, again, DUUURRR!!!!
I'D forgive you, FJ... <3<3
Posted 29 September 2012 - 04:29 AM
Benevolent, All-Seeing Eye
Posted 29 September 2012 - 04:34 AM
0 members, 1 guests, 0 anonymous users
Community Forum Software by IP.Board
Licensed to: I Dream of Jimmy
