The Written LAB-Oratory

Presenting Truth disguised as Fiction. And exposing Fiction disguised as Truth.

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Newton, Einstein, and Burritos.

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So it wasn’t a bad day, per say. I mean, it’s not like I died. How many people get to say, “Hey, you know that fire fight that happened in Midtown that was on the news? Yeah… that one. That was ME!”

But it’s not like I would say that. I don’t go for braggadocio. I’m more the, “Holy snot rockets, it’s a camera, DIVE! DIVE! DIVE! SOUND COLLISION! DIVE!” I don’t like the attention. Besides, it’s bad for business.

So there I was, minding my own business, casing this antique store store from the comfort of my front seat. Why I was casing the place is not really important. At least not to what happened at that moment. And don’t worry, I wasn’t going to steal anything that didn’t need stealing.

As I was saying, I was just sitting there in my car, eating a burrito, when *WHAM!*, I hear two cars pile into each other. …it’s Houston, people practice physics fails all day long. Hell, the stupid Monorail route is a virtual “Mig Alley” of punched out cars and pedestrians because they or the trolley driver thought that the laws of inertia, mass, momentum, and Murphy didn’t apply to them.

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Written by lablount

June 1, 2010 at 11:41 pm

Grand Theft Heaven.

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Please see the Copyright! and Excuses pages first.

He could vaguely remember the stones and dull grey of a few moments ago. Everything turned grey then black. Then the pain that had become like an obnoxious accepted travel companion was joined by the shattering howl of his legs being broken. Some part of his brain could hear the shrieks of surprise, jeers of laughter, and sobs of desperation, but all he could recognize was the stabbing cry of his legs as he tried to right himself and the searing pain of his lungs when he couldn’t.

He tried to look to his left, but the pain and sweat only clouded his eyes. As he painfully lifted his head, his tunnel vision only saw a spear, then blood, then the unmoving face of his new Rabbi. Dismas tried to weep bitterly, but couldn’t. All that came was a week gasp and a single tear.

Past the Rabbi he could see Gestas wince in agony and slide out of his vision. The pain in his own chest sucked him back into his private torment. Each breath was harder and harder to manage. His shoulders felt like they could give way at any moment. A sick part of him laughed as he wondered what it would feel like to fall over his own broken legs and smash face first into the post.

He glanced back to see his Rabbi. At least he didn’t have to suffer through this. Some how Gestas had managed to force himself back upright and was spitting curses at everyone. Dismas hurt himself trying to laugh. The odd humor was cut short by another pain in his side and voice yelling from underneath him

“Maybe you’ll find a little more pain just as funny!” A centurion with a whip crowed up at him and began to lash him across the stomach and chest. Gouts of flesh and blood spilled from Dismas onto the face of the Centurion. The Centurion spat and cursed then took out his remain anger on the crowd that laughed at him.

For the scantest of moments, Dismas’ eyes cleared of their fog and he saw the city and the temple. It was bright and beautiful. Beams of light shown from the Holy of Holies radiated like the call of hope in a terrible storm. Jerusalem was on fire. He smiled.


Then he bowed his head.

**** Please Click Here To Read On.

Written by lablount

April 4, 2010 at 6:32 pm