Posted on 2006/07/18 10:38:00 (July 2006).
[18th July 2006]
It was a moonlight night, the soft glow embracing the city, houses and streets.
Apart from the usual random noise, caused by some daring and darting rat through the garbage, the night was a perfect night.
The Big Bad Wolf decided that it was time to make a move, fangs sharpened and hair combed, he looked more like a proto-Banderas wolf than a merciless predator, but that didn't matter to him, in the black and white world where he happened to lurk this feature was cool and he liked it.
Every night for the past year he has been moving in the suburbs, prying informations out of unfriendly mouths, beating each low class scummy bar looking for that missing piece of information, or that glimmer of hope that would get him the strength to continue his existence.
His black mac scuffled around his body, the wind was mounting up, tomorrow it would be rainy, that white rain that he couldn't stand, a white rain that washed the blackness of the streets, of the houses, almost as if the heavens decided to purify something that didn't come out just right.
"Funny" he thought, "blood has the same colour as the rain in this place", raining blood... cleansing rain...
"You gotta do what you've gotta do!" used to say his granny, elderly wisdom was always appropriate in these moments...
No time to loose.
The moonlight made it easier to spot the track, the way was set, in order to know where the First one was, he had to torture the last informer, Mr. Sharptooth Squirrel, he had to remove the excess muscle off his right leg before he could be conducted to "reason".
A grin, eyes focusing on the path, the wolf was running again...
An hour later, the city was left behind, on the top of the hill he could see the grey and black countryside unfolding before his sight, and yet, in the midst of a grain field, the little hut was standing, as the dying rodent told him before.
A quick thought at the body of the informer, thrown at the ravaging rats, and then it was time to go.
The hut was quite small, dark grey, made of straws and shit, the moonlight got it to cast a long shadow over the field, although the clouds started to arrive from the usual unknown place.
Wolf got close to the door, two hard knocks on the wooden door (that almost fell on the floor), straws falling from the roof...
"Little Pig, Little Pig. Let me in!" said in a slow deep voice, he practiced it after watching "Il Padrino" at the movies. He lived the last five years in impatient anticipation of this moment.
A blast, splinters of wood cutting through the flesh and injuring the eyes, mouth, body.
A searing pain right at the stomach level, the body out of control rattled on the ground by a superior force.
Lying on the dirty soil, black mac opened, clutching the waist and feeling the hot sticky blood pouring off a huge set of wounds.
The wolf raised the head, looked at the injury, but didn't have to wonder what it was, a little black pig was standing in the hallway, wearing a white suit, black shades.
The shotgun in his hands told the whole story, slowly but yet quickly the hog was staring down at the wolf, frozen in pain and shock.
"Not for the fucking hair of my chinny chin chin! You wanker!", those where the words that he heard before -- BANG ! --
Then it was all black.
Posted by Sheri at 2006/07/18 11:24:42.
Have you been smoking illicit stuff, recently?
Posted by Sheri at 2006/07/18 11:27:29.
Gosh! You are not "depressed" are you Lox?! A grisly tale... However, at least the wolf got his "come-uppance"...
Posted by Nigel at 2006/07/18 24:42:37.
Sheri: unfortunately not (recently) :)
Nigel: Nope, I am not depressed I have had this sort of daydream inspiration, based on Miller's work (Sin City), I love that comic. Let's say I wrote about a well known novel with a different twist...
Did you like it anyways?
Posted by Lox at 2006/07/18 24:50:18.
I did. Could be a good idea for a short film.
Posted by Sheri at 2006/07/18 15:07:52.
That was the aim, in my head I could see the movie as I was writing about it, my friends always told me that I had a cinematic imagination... maybe I should consider another career.... :P
Posted by Lox at 2006/07/18 15:35:44.
Maybe you should...!
Posted by Sheri at 2006/07/18 16:00:00.
Presumably this was all based in Italy. If it had occured in the UK, the pig would be looking at 2-3 years for attempted manslaughter, whilst the Wolf would make a full recovery and then go on to sue the pig for shooting him then sell the story to the newspapers.
Posted by kev at 2006/07/18 19:35:38.
Ah... Very "Film Noire"! Perhaps you could sell it as a short-story for a magazine?
Posted by Nigel at 2006/07/19 10:24:10.
Nigel: Which magazine? I have little knowledge of the short movies industry alas... Maybe Sheri might know...
Posted by Lox at 2006/07/19 10:26:21.
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