Please, Sir, May I Have Another Oz Drabble Tree?

[ozsaur]

Hard to believe this is our 8th Oz Drabble Tree! If you want to take a look at the last seven: The First Ever Oz Drabble Tree, The Return of Oz Drabble Tree, The Little Oz Drabble Tree That Could, Are You There God? It's Oz Drabble Tree, Oz Drabble Tree Knows Best, In Oz Drabble Tree, No One Can Hear You Scream, This Is An Emergency Oz Drabble Tree

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"Seems like old times," he says, 162 Words

[levitatethis]

They both lean forward against the railing and gaze down on the quad. The hustle and bustle of men going nowhere makes time seem like an endless loop, a broken record threatening to numb them into oblivion.

Laughter and cat-calls greet the television screen, an argument breaks out over a chess match at a far table, an escalating shoving match gets broken up by one of the hacks, and the beat goes on. Out with the old, in with the new, but it’s the same damn rules. The players may have new faces but their games are familiar and not in the wonderfully nostalgic way a smell reminds someone of their grandparents house or sitting in the family car on a long summer drive. It’s the kind of familiarity that breeds contempt and dissatisfaction, stoking the flame of discontent beneath.

Beecher sighs.

O’Reily glances his way. “Seems like old times,” he says, rolling his shoulders.

Beecher lets the silence speak for him.

"the kind of familiarity", 100 words

[cmk418]

He watches them achieve the kind of familiarity that he wants to have. They’re so close, practically on top of the object of his affections. She plays along, batting her eyes, maintaining her innocence. Because that’s what it is, right? Innocent. Child’s play. The fact that the other jokers in this place read more into it than they should doesn’t make it anything other than what it is.

“Hey, Busmalis. Your girlfriend really is something,” O’Reily snarks.

“Yeah,” he says, taking his gaze momentarily from the television screen.

“You think those rumors of her having a puppet fetish are true?”

"You think those rumors of her having a puppet fetish are true?", 186 words

[nindevotee]

"Oh Beecher, this is just so sick...oh...don't stop," Chris gasps in between each stroke of Toby’s hand.

"You think those rumors of her having a puppet fetish are true?" Toby giggles.

“Don’t know ‘bout her, but I’m starting to develop one…aahh, fuck!” Chris bites out.

"You do realize we're going to catch hell for this tomorrow?" Toby looks out, semi-worried and sees several pairs of eyes watching them.

"Fuck 'em," Chris grunts, "This is by far the kinkiest thing we've done, don't stop!"

“Mmmm,” Toby hums along Chris’ jaw line, “So you like your little present?”

“Yeah baby,” Chris breathes raggedly, “how the hell did you ever get O’Reily to smuggle in a Nooter puppet?”

Toby laughs out right, “Oddly enough he wouldn’t, no matter how much I offered to pay him. This…” Toby removes his puppeted hand away from Chris’ cock and waves it in front of his face, “is courtesy of my father. God, the look on his face was like I don’t even want to knowChris bursts out laughing as he grabs the puppet away from Toby and grins wickedly

"Nooter", 191 words

[nindevotee]

“Chris, let’s switch,” Toby pleads.

“No way.”

“Chris, comon! Please?”

“What, you don’t like the hand job Pecky’s giving you?” Chris teases.

“Chris!" Toby tries to grab the puppet out of Chris’ hand.

“Not until you answer my question,” Chris laughs, keeping Pecky just out of Toby’s reach.

“I like the hand job just fine Chris. It’s just…” Toby hesitates.

“Yeah?”

“…”

“Comon baby, it’s just me,” Chris soothes.

“Blowjobs feel a hell of a lot better than hand jobs, there I said it, okay?” Toby answers reluctantly, his face reddening.

Chris smirks, amusement lighting his eyes.

Toby grows impatient, “Can we switch now or not?!”

“Just one more thing…” Chris pushes, “did you really tell O’Reily you wanted a four-way with Nooter & Pecky

"time to come home", 100 words

[trillingstar]

A brother. Christ. All those years wishing for someone who'd seen his dad cast out, then drink himself into the grave. Rolling his eyes at a conspirator when his mom served raw spaghetti for dinner. Hell, a best friend who'd have told him what to do after he'd gotten Kathy's skirt pushed up to her waist.

A sob sticks in his throat. A brother, maybe, but also a stranger. A criminal.

Elliot trails his fingers along the curve of the headstone. He stares at the name etched in marble.

"Elliot?" Kathy touches his arm. "Ell, it's time to come home."

"trails his fingers", 100 words

[cmk418]

Gloria tries to ignore it - the looks, the comments, the way Ryan trails his fingers down her arm. She knows these feelings aren’t real - she learned that this could happen. It’s misplaced gratitude, nothing more. It isn’t love, she tells herself, and tries to get the message through to him as well. He doesn’t seem to hear. She could report him, but aside from making her uncomfortable, he hasn’t done anything. And she doesn’t want to seem like the girl who cried “wolf” over a little flirting. Sooner or later, this will pass. She only needs to bide her time.

A sob sticks in his throat, 100 words

[nindevotee]

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, struggling to rein in the anger toward his mother. She fusses with her gardening tools, soil, and plants and stutters nervously, "Elliot, I don't know what you're talking about".

"Dammit mother!" he bellows as he slams his fists on the potters bench she's working at, "I know! Okay? I know!"

She hangs her head low, unable to meet the accusing glare in her son's gaze. With tears brimming her eyes she says softly, painfully, guiltily, "I'm sick Elliot. You know that. I didn't mean to give him away. By the time your father realized what I'd done, it was too late. Christopher was gone. We never found out who adopted him."

A sob sticks in his throat. His twin is dead. He found out too late.

"You realize that now’s the time to do it," 108 Words

[aletter2elise]

Toby walks into the library. You don’t even need to look up to see him, you feel his presence. Softly, he says, "Chris."

"Are we speaking?" Chris asks.

Toby sits down, tells Chris his friend of many years is about to sell him out to the Feds.

Chris just smirks and says, "You're just jealous."

Leaning back in his chair, Toby gives up this game they’ve been playing with each other and tells Chris to write to him from Death Row. You watch him walk away. You don’t want him to go. You realize that now’s the time to do it, now is the time to forgive him.

"Death Row", 100 words

[cmk418]

One thing he could say about his line of business is that it was very rare that one of their own wound up on Death Row. The lawyers were paid to ensure it. Friendly judges were found, evidence disappeared, witnesses were taken care of with a few words. Even if it went south, a “businessman” could always find allies in the ranks at prison. Favors were granted and the hierarchy of the world outside still prevailed.

Looking around the walls of his new home, Antonio Nappa realized even though it didn’t have the name, he truly was on death row.

Looking around..., 100 words

[numenora]

Elliot Stabler quietly entered the apartment. He didn’t want to wake Toby as he’d done the night before. Tobias Beecher, ex-con and good friend, had offered a spare room in his place after Kathy left their eighteen-year marriage. The detective suddenly found himself homeless, feeling like such a loser.

Elliot sighed. Another long day--correction--long night of dealing with human depravity.

“Hey, El.” Toby appeared. “You hungry?”

“Damn, I woke you again,” Elliot grimaced.

“Not really. I was waiting up ’til you to got home.”

Looking around, Elliot smiled, realizing he was no longer homeless.

Re: "I woke you again." 200 words

[lisacali]

"I'm sorry, Ryan, I woke you again"It's okay, Cyril. You have another nightmare