He cast an amused glance over the top of his pint as he had a drink. "You seemed so determined to have your own way," he shrugged, his voice low and he wasn't inclined to speak up, therefore making Ewan lean forward to hear anything at all, "how could I tell you otherwise? Besides, admit it. You enjoy physically abusing complete strangers dressed up in hats and boots." Suddenly a loud shouting brought everyone's attention front and centre with the announcement of the quiz about to resume from break. Quietly excited, he passed over the electronic keypad, "Alright, if you don't know, then don't answer, yeah? It'll take points away and we're tied with those fuckers," he pointed at a nearby table at a bunch of wrinkled fat old men who had the waitresses busy refilling their pitchers of beer. "I can't stand losing."
Taking the pad from him, Ewan looked it over for a moment before slugging down his drink. He figured the buzz would give them an edge. Giving a sideways glance to their opponents, he gave Jonathan a quick nod. "I've got it under control." Over the loud speaker the question was stated in a crackling voice: What pharmaceutical company sponsored the quiz show Twenty-One in the 1950's. Ewan was pleased that he already knew the answer; it had been a Jeopardy! question he remembered well. The keypad's abc listing said the Sylviana family, Geritol and Victor Hermelin's KV. Immediately pressing B he set down the device. "Have a little faith, huh, Meyers? It's not like you haven't gotten a wrong answer." Turning around in his seat he looked across at their opponents with a smile. "That Hooter’s party is in the bag, man." Handing back the pad to Jonathan, he sat back and waited for the next round of questions to begin.
Jonathan just gave him a doubtful look. Truth be told, he didn't have faith in him at all not to deliberately punch in wrong answers just to get to him. So it was with surprise (which he disguised immediately) when his answer turned out to be correct. He pretended he had absolute confidence. "It's almost ridiculous to go through all this fucking stress for free hot wings," he said, distracted, and squinted at the next question that read Which ground-breaking band opened up for Adam and the Ants back in 1976? Jonathan immediately pressed the C button for the Sex Pistols and sat back and frowned at his almost-empty pint. "I can feel my ulcer acting up again." He raised his pint to his before he drained it all. "Cheers, this is my fourth."
Ewan was amused that he appeared to be taking this so seriously. Then again, he knew well that Jonathan took everything seriously, so it shouldn't have been a surprise. Waiting for the next answer to appear, he furrowed her brow in thought. What was Albrecht Durer's most famous carving called? Ewan didn't know the answer at all, and darted his eyes across the table at Jonathan to see if he was looking. Of course he had to be staring back at him with that far too serious glint in his eye. Biting the inside of his lip, Ewan chose A. Durer's Rhinocerous and waited to see if it was correct. When their number card went up a few points he let out a sigh of relief and then downed the rest of his drink. "I'm going to need another. You’re right, this is getting stressful."
Jonathan had the nerve to look offended. "Hey, that's rude. Is it my fault I watch the Discovery channel? Besides," he pointed to the trolley and returned his glare, "who the fuck knows about famous carvings, huh?" His voice grew louder, "CARVINGS, EWAN. NOT PAINTINGS. WHO KNOWS CARVINGS ANYMORE?" He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Well, come on," he resolutely took the dolly and wheeled it down the alley. "I just don't understand it," he said, more to himself than to Ewan. "The prizes before weren't...well, they weren't this. Christ!" he grew agitated. "It was supposed to be a free catered party from Hooters. But this?" He shook his head and continued mumbling. "It must be because it's a weekend. I can't think of any other explanation." He tilted his head at Ewan, "Well obviously we have to take this to your place cos er...I don't have a refrigerator." He looked a little shifty and quickly changed the subject, "I doubt we could even pay anyone to take these crates away. Who the fuck would want meat that's not sealed in
( ... )
Ewan had to laugh at Jonathan’s little melt down. This was all so ridiculous, how could he help himself? Pressing his hand against the side of the building for a moment, he shook his head. "Like you said, I totally guessed at that one! I think you guessed that last one, too. But you just had to guess right." That struck his as funny again and he started laughing harder. Ewan stopped abruptly when Jonathan started in on selling their meat. "You know, that's not a half bad idea." Ewan knew immediately that he was really too drunk to be making any decisions, but pawning meat off on someone sounded like the only possible solution to their problem. Dropping to the ground, he pulled open one of the Styrofoam containers. Unfortunately all that seemed to be in there were piles of ground hamburger. The smell was overwhelming and Ewan had to stand up quickly. "Oh my god. That is awful." Plugging his nose to keep from having a vom, he looked to Jonathan. "You know, there is this terrible little diner that would probably take this shit and feed
( ... )
I've heard gold is the new gold.j_rhysmeyersJuly 24 2006, 02:25:10 UTC
The raw meet reek wafted up and nearly overwhelmed him. Jonathan held back a gag and had to look away before he lost all the pints he had that evening. "Jesus Christ," he swore, waving his arm around in a fanning motion in an attempt to get it away from him. He knew he was going to smell like a slaughter house the rest of the night. "I don't know," he coughed, his eyes watering and turning red. "Do you think they're that fucking desperate? For fuck's sake, they didn't even pack any ice that I could see. What're people supposed to do? Run home and cook a million burgers or something?" He started forward, stumbling over a pile of trash and reaching out to the trolley to catch his balance.
It could've been a scene from a movie. They both watched in horror as the top crate teetered on the edge then tipped over upside down, the lid coming off and all the meat falling out with a loud wet plop all over Jonathan’s expensive, custom made boots he bought on a drunken holiday in El Paso.
To match the boots, of course.mcgregor_ewanJuly 24 2006, 02:25:44 UTC
The world went into slow motion from the time Jonathan tripped to when the meat spilled out over his shoes. Ewan’s mouth dropped and he tried to make a dive for the container, but to no avail. He looked from the meat, to Jonathan’s terrified expression and then back to the meat again. "Fuck!" Although he started laughing hysterically, Ewan felt awful for Jonathan and started looking around frantically for anything that could help get the meat off of his boots. Pulling his shirt up over his nose so that the smell of spoiling meat wouldn't make him lose his stomach, he located a discarded newspaper and pulled it out of its sleeve. Looking directly at him, he said very calmly, even though he was still chuckling, "Okay. Okay. Just step back so that you're not swimming in beef and just calm. Remain calm
( ... )
Jonathan watched it slop all over the car with a wistful sigh. "There goes about ten stone," he said sadly, not even blinking an eye at the sight of raw meat everywhere. He reckoned that his detached survival mode had been switched on otherwise he'd probably be in ranting and raving shambles. "Okay," he moved over a bit so he could help push, "we need to do this together otherwise we'll end up losing everything. I need to buy new boots! Right then, on the count of three. One, two," he nudged Ewan, "three." They pushed off at the same time, trudging down the sidewalk and ignoring the squeaky wheel until they reached the back door of the diner. Jonathan looked around the alleyway with an appraising eye, "I don't know," he bit his lip and shook his head. "I don't think they're gonna go for it. I mean...it actually looks sanitary." He nodded at his to have a look around their refuse area, which was neatly stacked around the door with sealed shut containers, seemingly in compliance with current health inspection regulations.
Biting at his lower lip, Ewan searched around for any signs of contaminated product. "I don't know, Jonathan. They might not look inside the packages and then they'll never know that the meat is foul. Besides, it's not the diner itself that's unsavoury, it's the chef. He looks like Chef Boyardee who hasn't showered in six years. I really think he might go for it." Finding the door that would lead into the kitchen, there was a bell for service people to ring. Pressing it, he waited for someone to answer. The door swung open to reveal a skinny little man who had an uncanny resemblance to a rat. Ewan twitched in disgust at the sight of him. Throwing a look to Jonathan, he said, "Hi, um, we're from Goldberg's Kosher Meats and we have your delivery for you. Sixteen stone in ground hamburger. I've never seen you around here before, but I'm sure you know how these deals work. We'll need 1200 hundred in cash." Ewan crossed his fingers behind his back, silently hoping that this little scheme would work.
He bit back a snicker and tried to look like a perfectly barely-legit meat dealer. When he couldn't think of how one would look, he settled for looking vacant. The rat-faced man stepped forward and glanced over the crates without actually opening any, giving them a suspicious look. "I don't see no packing list here," he pointed out with a crafty, oily grin, "and no packing list means I pay you a thousand." Jonathan nudged Ewan in the back before the guy had finished talking, silently and emphatically telling him to take the deal and run.
Ewan felt like he was on the job. He put on his best look of confidence and stuck out his still meat sticky hand. "Sir, you've got yourself a deal." He decided to leave the part constructed in his head about how the packing slip had blown away when a bus had driven by, but it didn't seem like Mr. Rat cared for an explanation, so he wouldn't give him one. Once the door was shut on them while he went presumably get their money, Ewan turned toward Jonathan and mouthed "we got it” He didn't want to speak too loudly yet in case someone was listening at the door. Moments later the rat came back with a wad of cash in hand and two other guys behind him. They started to carry the crates of meat inside. "Hey, you guys can have a free dolly as well." Ewan smiled a little at them and took the money that he held out for him. "Yeah, so um, we'll be heading out now. It was a pleasure doing business with you." Ewan practically tore down the alleyway to get out of there. He didn't want them to suddenly realise what was going on and come back to get
( ... )
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It could've been a scene from a movie. They both watched in horror as the top crate teetered on the edge then tipped over upside down, the lid coming off and all the meat falling out with a loud wet plop all over Jonathan’s expensive, custom made boots he bought on a drunken holiday in El Paso.
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