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| The Storm is Here | Started by: Storm on Mar 20, '08 06:47 |
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Storm walks out into the street, beer in hand, and decides he feels like talking today. He makes his way to a street corner and, after taking a big swig of his beer, begins speaking in his deep southern drawl. Today I done decided I feel like talkin', so guess I'll just talk about myself for a lil' while. Might as well start from the beginnin'. I grew up on a farm, down in Kentucky, raised by only my mama. Bein' the man of the place, I started doin' work 'round the farm at an early age. Durin' my younger years, I milked the cows, fed the livestock, and groomed the horses. As I grew older, I took on some-a the bigger tasks. Keepin' the tractor in good condition, plowin' the fields, harvestin' the crops, and all this while still goin' to school. Storm finishes off his beer, and throws the bottle on the ground, and pulls out another one from his coat pocket, and continuing his story. I was purtty active as a youngun. I never wanted to come in the house, even durin' bad weather. One day I was out durin' a huge storm, the biggest to hit our area in years. I was out playin' around in the fields, and ma couldn't find me. Big ol' tornada came down not a half mile from where I was playin'. 'Steada goin' for the house, I tried ta get closer to it. Thing ran away before I ever got the chance to look at it up close, but my mama started callin' me Storm after that, and it stuck. I been known as Storm ever since. As I grew older, I found that I had a taste fer beer. I started sneakin' em from the fridge when my ma wasn't around. I always looked older than I actually was, so I had no problem gettin' in the bars. When I started gettin' me some money, I spent a lotta time down at the local bar. Didn't take much ta get me trashed back then, but now its to the point where it don't even affect me. Just like water to me. I never got to know my pops, and my mom wouldn't tell me who it was, or what he was like, for the longest time. I think its cause she was ashamed of fallin' for him when she knew what he was like. When I hit the age of seventeen, she finally told me who my pops was. Turns out one night when in New Orleans for Mardi Gras, she caught the eye of TheCaptain. My mother was always a simple, hard-workin' lady, but she was still the most beautiful creature you ever laid eyes on. Storm leans against a wall, making himself comfortable. He takes another swig from his beer, and goes back to his story once again. Anyway, she had a long night with TheCaptain, and ended up bein' with child afterwards. After that night she never saw or heard from him again, other than in the news about his life of crime, and eventual death. I think the reason she was scared to tell me, is cause she didn't want me thinkin' any less of 'er, but I didn't at all. I heard the stories, and knew my pops had gotten to lotsa women, just like her. I didn't despise my pops like most people would. I hated what he did to my mama, but I listened to all the stories people'd tell of him, and I wouldn't-a minded a life like that for myself. I only dreamt about it though, I never thought-a actually tryin' it. I stuck around with my ma, still workin' around the farm, and she insisted on payin' me. I felt bad for takin' the pay, but like I said, I really liked ta go to the the bar. I used to get in a lotta bar fights. Mainly just cause I liked ta fight. Was my "grown-up" way of playin'. I won more often than not, but I still came home with bruises on me a lot and I was never too old for my ma to yell at. The older my mama got, the less work she did around the farm, and the more I took on. Eventually my mama passed away when I was only 25, so I sold the farm, and got myself an apartment out in Chicago, the city I still live in today. Storm takes a swig of his beer. I started out workin' as a butcher. Easy work for me, and fit me perfect since I'm good with my hands. I worked there for awhile, and hit the bars as much as possible, still gettin' in my fair share of bar brawls. Big city people seem softer to me, so I had a much easier time handlin' myself in the fights. One day I stumbled into the right bar on the right day. Buncha drunks started givin' this guy a hard time. Guy kept his temper well, but eventually he flew off the handle, and started beatin' the hell out of em. Handled himself nicely, but the numbers caught up to him, and they started givin' it to this guy. I've always been one for a fair fight, so I picked up a pool stick, and started takin' the drunks out. After layin' em all out, I checked on the guy. He was bloodied, but good other than that, and thankful that I was there to give him a hand. He asked me to come with him so I figured "what the hell" and went with him. We got to a huge buildin' and went in. Guy took me up to the top floor, and told me to wait there while he went in some room to talk to somebody. He comes out and has me go back in, where I notice the head of Chicago, Mr. Cab_Tufting. Turns out the guy I saved was one of the higher-ups with the Chicago Partisans, and they could use a guy like me. They sent me home in a limo, to give me some time to think about it, not that I really needed the time. This was what I always wanted ta do, and here it just falls right into my lap. Still, I gave myself the night to think about it, and went back down to the Chicago Partisan's HQ the next day, which just so happens to be today, and took the offer. This oughta be some fun eh? Storm takes one long drink from his bottle, finishing off the rest of it, and throwing it on the ground by the other bottle. He sits down on the curb, pulling out another bottle from another coat pocket, and just watches everybody in such a hurry to be somewhere. City folk...I'll never get em. |
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| Excellent speech, Storm, I enjoyed that insight. Welcome to this thing of ours. Your "pops" was well respected around these parts and I'm sure you will be too, in time. | |
| Reply by: Turk at Mar 20, '08 17:10 | |
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Storm tips his hat, and nods at Turk. Well thank ya kindly, sir. I 'preciate it. Only thing I really got ta go by is the stories of 'im. I'm glad he was noticed enough, for you ta go outta your way to mention him ta me. Storm downs some of his beer. |
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| Reply by: Storm at Mar 20, '08 17:59 | |
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