Post by orinocoflow on Dec 11, 2010 2:19:25 GMT -5
Paul glanced around, making sure that no one was watching. Satisfied, he casually strolled over to where Keith’s skateboard stood, leaned on his bag. Looking around once again, he gave it a gentle push with his foot, the black Converse hitting with a soft tap. With a final look around the warehouse where the rest of the lads were rehearsing their songs, the air busy with chatter as stagehands ran about, figuring out how to set up the stage, Paul grinned and kicked off with his right foot, his left on the board, and raced off across the smooth floor, maneuvering the narrow pathways. The wheels were well-greased, so no one heard him as he flew right on outside on the board, picking up speed going down the ramp.
Grinning, Paul tapped away a few times and then glided, the wind ruffling his hair, for once not gelled, and tugged at his pink polo shirt—the same one Keith had “borrowed” a few days earlier. Leaning to the side and shifting his weight, knees bent, he rounded the corner…
Right into a speeding figure on a Segway. An instant before they collided, Paul caught a glimpse of a head of shorter, sun-bleached hair, but then there was a crash, a sickening crack, and Paul found himself airborne, landing onto a ramp.
Leaning up on his elbows, he looked over to the area where they had hit and saw Keith fall to his knees over something on the ground. Curious but a little worried, Paul walked over to him, standing a few yards away for safety. When Keith turned to him, the tenor knew that those few yards were going to determine his life…or his death.
Keith gave him a death glare, his eyes wild as he held up two pieces of wooden planks.
“That…was…my…new…board. What in the world does this skateboard have to do with an OLD PINK POLO SHIRT?” he roared, his voice rising as he emphasized his words. Not waiting for an answer, he lunged at the tenor, but having practiced, Paul sprinted in the opposite direction, slamming the door to the warehouse shut just as the blond was about to tackle him. There was a loud thud as he ran into it, causing Damien, who was walking by, to turn and stare at Paul.
Locking the door, Paul stalked over to the teenager.
“Now, don’t you feel lucky that you managed to convince me that it was Keith who stole my pink polo shirt, and that you were completely innocent?” asked Paul with a raised eyebrow, making the fact that he did not believe the story very obvious. Gulping, Damien took one look at the door, which Keith was threatening to break down, another at the tenor, and then left without a word, hurrying over to where the rest of the group was. Smiling, Paul watched as the teen walked away, not realizing that his pink polo shirt was almost exactly the same as the one Paul had on…
Paul walked over to the door, unlocked it, and plastered himself against the wall as the enraged young man stormed in, found a pink polo shirt hurrying away, and tore after the figure, not caring to check the face first.
Grinning, Paul slid out from behind the door, watching as Keith still did not realize who his victim really was.
THE END
this is the second version, the funny story.
hope you liked it!
Grinning, Paul tapped away a few times and then glided, the wind ruffling his hair, for once not gelled, and tugged at his pink polo shirt—the same one Keith had “borrowed” a few days earlier. Leaning to the side and shifting his weight, knees bent, he rounded the corner…
Right into a speeding figure on a Segway. An instant before they collided, Paul caught a glimpse of a head of shorter, sun-bleached hair, but then there was a crash, a sickening crack, and Paul found himself airborne, landing onto a ramp.
Leaning up on his elbows, he looked over to the area where they had hit and saw Keith fall to his knees over something on the ground. Curious but a little worried, Paul walked over to him, standing a few yards away for safety. When Keith turned to him, the tenor knew that those few yards were going to determine his life…or his death.
Keith gave him a death glare, his eyes wild as he held up two pieces of wooden planks.
“That…was…my…new…board. What in the world does this skateboard have to do with an OLD PINK POLO SHIRT?” he roared, his voice rising as he emphasized his words. Not waiting for an answer, he lunged at the tenor, but having practiced, Paul sprinted in the opposite direction, slamming the door to the warehouse shut just as the blond was about to tackle him. There was a loud thud as he ran into it, causing Damien, who was walking by, to turn and stare at Paul.
Locking the door, Paul stalked over to the teenager.
“Now, don’t you feel lucky that you managed to convince me that it was Keith who stole my pink polo shirt, and that you were completely innocent?” asked Paul with a raised eyebrow, making the fact that he did not believe the story very obvious. Gulping, Damien took one look at the door, which Keith was threatening to break down, another at the tenor, and then left without a word, hurrying over to where the rest of the group was. Smiling, Paul watched as the teen walked away, not realizing that his pink polo shirt was almost exactly the same as the one Paul had on…
Paul walked over to the door, unlocked it, and plastered himself against the wall as the enraged young man stormed in, found a pink polo shirt hurrying away, and tore after the figure, not caring to check the face first.
Grinning, Paul slid out from behind the door, watching as Keith still did not realize who his victim really was.
THE END
this is the second version, the funny story.
hope you liked it!