Campfire Story

How the Mighty-1 - Other
--This story is open for another 6 entries
--This story is open
Nov 20, 2008 02:11 AM Introduction
ClydeFisk started with:
The guy in the tights used to run an oil company. Mario knew that from the Windsor knot he had in his tie. “Why is he wearing a tie again?” Delbert asked? “It’s how they recognize each other,” Mario answered. Delbert was still kind of new to the area. He’d seen other homeless execs sloshing around in everything from one-piece pajamas to pilfered pirate Halloween costumes, but the wrestling tights and fisherman’s vest was a new one. “Watch me screw with him,” Mario said with nasty curl in his lip and even nastier one in his eyes. “Hey Sondhiem?” he yelled over to the bum, who was about to crack the top on the coveted can of Dr. Pepper he’d been saving in his “special” hiding spot—a hole in the upper floor’s wall. “Was that Beardley I saw in your spot earlier? When did you guys become friends?” “What?! What are you talking about?” Sondhiem jumped at the name Beardley every time he’d heard it.
1 2 
Nov 27, 2008 06:06 PM Entry #1
Beardley.....even after three years of life on the streets, he was a man to reckon with. While most of the homeless execs respected Beardley for his hulking stature, all Sondheim ever thought about was being Beardley's bitch. To know that he had pranced around all day in his sexiest garb, wrestling tights and a fisherman's vest he'd found in a GOODWILL box only the day before and had still managed to miss the man of his dreams...how could this day get any worse.....
Mar 20, 2009 08:36 PM Entry #2
ClydeFisk wrote:
"Who's Beardley?" Delbert asked. "It's like his personal demon or something. He wanders around saying that name under his breath all the time. Some guys say he mumbles it in his sleep too. He's gone in the head. I'm not even sure he's real, but Sondhiem shits his pants everytime his name is mentioned." Sondhiem now menaced his can of Dr.Pepper tightly between both palms. Had Beardley poisned it? But how? It was sealed tight! Beardley would find a way! That bastard! He'd found his way into his dreams, he could certainly find a way to poison an unopened pop can! If anyone could, it was Beardley. But he wanted it so bad. He'd saved it, hidden it, waiting for the weekend to savor its flavor like the smuggled Havannah cigars he smoked when he was still on top. Now that sinister Beardley had found him again, tracked him down, still determined to slake his appetite for Sondheim's flesh. Beardley!
Jun 27, 2009 08:11 PM Entry #3
Sondheim found a darkened corner all of his own, sat down, popped the top of the Dr.Pepper and slugged it down quicky before anyone could steal it from him. He let out a hearty belch and then relaxed, stretching his legs in front of him and resting his body against the cool moist stone of the underpass. He closed his eyes but could not block out the flood of memories insisting on making themselves known. All about Beardley. They called him "the Mighty one" in the bureau mostly because Beardley outlived all of his predessors assigned to the project. No one wanted to be assigned to the project because they knew that to be assigned meant to die. But not Beardley. He volunteered for it. When asked by his superiors to select his team, Beardley volunteered Sondheim too. "Rat bastard" Sondheim muttered as he sat against the wall.
1 2 
© 2014 WritingRoom.com, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WRITING | POETRY WRITING | CREATIVE WRITING | WRITE A BOOK | WRITING CONTESTS | WRITING TIPS