& 2 posts
Post by Shane Royer on Nov 23, 2019 2:36:34 GMT
Ya hear that, boy?
S’ vibe check.
“No, you don’t understand!” A premium knee-high leather toe tapped furiously on the pavement and silver ring clad fingers fiercely gripped on a cell phone. People lackadaisically strolling about suddenly popped up and gave the loudly dressed, loudly annoyed man as much breathing room as they could and still pass through the side street. The sun wasn’t casting down Shane’s usual god ray, rather resorting to a dreary sort of overcast. The ozone that flooded his nose was enough to churn his blood without that overgrown, pompous child on the other end of his line for help.
“What you do with your money is your own bad decision, don’t expect help from me.” Shane could’ve just gotten his number changed, but that was not his style. That was not appropriate for the vibe he was in. On those stout heels, he pivoted towards the nearest wall and chucked that deadbeat square at the wall. It cracked fissures and buckled, but sent the corners of Royer’s mouth down in just how non-spectacular the stunt was.
The Gym would be open so long as lightning wasn’t coming down, which could be at any moment really. There hadn’t even been a drizzle, but it would be there soon enough. Despite the killer shirt and freshly polished chain he’d put on this morning, the double breasted riding jacket was buttoned to the collar as the wind picked up. God knew he wasn’t taking challengers in his foul mood; he was liable to really hurt somebody instead of playing up the crowd, but a race…
With a few bleeps and bloops, a Pokeball was rising and falling in his hand as he started his stroll more towards the communal center of town. From there, people were starting to spot him, tug at their friends’ sleeves, and whispering furiously. A flash of light then, bam! A Totodile did its fiercely adorable hissing roar as Shane delved into his breast pocket. A card holder shimmered forth from it and issued one card; Shane came to sit on his heels to pass it over to Sheila. It was an Admit One card for a Wave Race, Shane's shining smile in silver gilt on the eggshell surface. If there was one thing that could cheer him up, it was an ego trip.
“You know what I like, girl. Don’t let me down,” he winked and took a bold, cross-armed stand, watching over his sunglasses as the little blue gator made a bee line towards the blond-no not that on-yes, Sheila, that’s better.
“What you do with your money is your own bad decision, don’t expect help from me.” Shane could’ve just gotten his number changed, but that was not his style. That was not appropriate for the vibe he was in. On those stout heels, he pivoted towards the nearest wall and chucked that deadbeat square at the wall. It cracked fissures and buckled, but sent the corners of Royer’s mouth down in just how non-spectacular the stunt was.
The Gym would be open so long as lightning wasn’t coming down, which could be at any moment really. There hadn’t even been a drizzle, but it would be there soon enough. Despite the killer shirt and freshly polished chain he’d put on this morning, the double breasted riding jacket was buttoned to the collar as the wind picked up. God knew he wasn’t taking challengers in his foul mood; he was liable to really hurt somebody instead of playing up the crowd, but a race…
With a few bleeps and bloops, a Pokeball was rising and falling in his hand as he started his stroll more towards the communal center of town. From there, people were starting to spot him, tug at their friends’ sleeves, and whispering furiously. A flash of light then, bam! A Totodile did its fiercely adorable hissing roar as Shane delved into his breast pocket. A card holder shimmered forth from it and issued one card; Shane came to sit on his heels to pass it over to Sheila. It was an Admit One card for a Wave Race, Shane's shining smile in silver gilt on the eggshell surface. If there was one thing that could cheer him up, it was an ego trip.
“You know what I like, girl. Don’t let me down,” he winked and took a bold, cross-armed stand, watching over his sunglasses as the little blue gator made a bee line towards the blond-no not that on-yes, Sheila, that’s better.
