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| The Potted Plant Phenomenom | Started by: Brick_Pollitt on Apr 30, '09 11:48 |
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So there I was, all of 17 years old, sitting in my grandfather's living room. It was an apartment overlooking the bank on fifth street. The apartment smelled awful. I never knew why...until that day. Anyway, I was sitting there with my two best friends. You'd know them as Death-Knight and Aurora. Back then, they were just known as Herbert and Dawn. We sat there and looked out the window and dreamed of robbing the bank some day. The plan was pretty elaborate for a group of teenagers. Herbert would sit and wait in the car. We couldn't trust him to keep it running because he had this funny twitch thing with his foot. If the car was running, his foot would twitch and the car would jerk forward. We couldn't have that, so he just sat in the car, not running. Dawn and I would go into the bank. She would take out the guards. Why she had to take out the guards, I don't know, but she always did have a thing for killing. It was then when I learned that we were a very interesting group. My job - well my job was to get the money. And I thought the best way to do that would be to go up to the teller and ask politely. Herbert and Dawn just laughed at me and I shrugged it off. So, we sat on the couch and planned, and had a great time. By that point in my life, my father was already dead. You see, he was a gangster in some crime family, but didn't know how to keep his mouth shut. He always thought he was more important than he really was, so one day he spouted off about something or another and ended up dead. He was stuffed in the trunk of his car with his tongue in his coat pocket and his thumb in his mouth. And it wasn't really his thumb, but yeah, the story is disturbing enough without reliving that horror. I was the one who found him, and "so what" I thought. He deserved it. He wasn't much of a provider and had an unnatural fetish for potted plants that I could never understand. He spent all his money buying the damn things that were hanging all over the house. He would talk to them constantly, and the shit he would say was crazy. And when he took them to bed with him...enough was enough. I packed my shit and left. I think I was 12 at that point. I moved in with my grandfather and saw my dad on weekends. When I got to my grandfather's house there was one potted plant in the corner. It was difficult, but I decided I'd be okay with just one plant. My grandfather said it was good for the environment, but damn it - he talked to the potted plant too. What the hell is it with the men in my family and potted plants. I think he liked talking to that thing more than he liked talking to people. So, it was a surprise when my grandfather brought company home that day. Herbert, Dawn and I were shocked. I couldn't even be bothered to remember the guy's name. I probably wouldn't have remembered the guy at all but for what happened that day. Apparently, my grandfather and this guy weren't friends because, before I knew it, my grandfather had this guy handcuffed to a chair and was beating the crap out of him. He was asking this guy for information. I was shocked. I mean, that's the most I'd heard my grandfather talk in all my 17 years. The next thing I knew, my grandfather had this guy's hand in a blender and was threatening to hit puree. I was sick to my stomach. Seriously. I had a chocolate shake from that blender earlier that day. Oh, how many times I'd heard the blender rev and men scream like little girls, yet never put it together. My grandfather had been using MY blender to extract information. He couldn't wash that thing enough to get me to drink another chocolate shake. So my mind wandered. "Where can I get another blender this late in the day." So, I was outraged. Herbert and Dawn were a little green. They'd had chocolate shakes earlier that day too. So while my grandfather hit puree and blended the man's hand, all I could think about was the number of times I'd had chocolate shakes that must've been mixed with flesh and bone. But whatever, I've had worse. The blender was an effective tool in my grandfather's trade. He'd been hired to extract information for some of the crime families. On that particular day he'd been hired to get some information about a bank robbery at the bank on Fifth street. Herbert, Dawn and I looked at each other and smirked. The guy was talking long before his hand was shoved in the blender. He was giving my grandfather all the information he wanted. Why he pureed the man's hand anyway, I'll never know. This guy was singing like a canary. He talked about the bank robbery, how much money they were able to get, and about who masterminded the whole thing. It was Marietta who was the mastermind. And, even better, she made it look like ThomasRourke was really the mastermind and he ended up arrested. Come to find out, Marietta wanted ThomasRourke out of his HQ for a couple of days so she could make some changes. She threw some pink paint on the walls, some flowered comforters on the beds, feather boas for all male associates, and mirrors on the ceilings. Well, I just could not understand why the mirrored ceilings. I was, after all, only 17 years old and innocent to the ways of the Godfathers of our cities. At the end of the day, Herbert, Dawn and I were sitting on the couch drinking chocolate shakes. I did find a store that was open and bought a new blender, which I kept in my room and away from the hands of strange men. We were engrossed in conversation - still planning our bank robbery, and determined that we would lead the lives of mobsters. And that's what made me join the life. |
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