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Sibling Rivalry XIII
by: chopsticks
p g
-----
Mr. Lyle whipped out his cell phone, pressing the speed dial as he sped out of The Centre’s parking garage. His car, while covered in bumper stickers, was still as functional as ever. All anyone standing on the side of the road saw was a multicolored blur as he sped past at a breakneck speed.
"Hello, this is Lyle," Mr. Lyle said into his slim, black cell phone. He jerked the wheel quickly with his left hand, his tires protesting loudly as he flew around a corner.
The person on the other end said something, but Lyle cut him off with a simple order. "Come to my house immediately. I will have two jobs for you." He snapped the phone shut and threw it into the passenger seat, grinning malevolently as he increased his speed.
Five minutes later and several terrified drivers later, Mr. Lyle arrived at his sterile apartment. He pulled into the parking lot and hurriedly climbed out of his car, attempting to turn his car alarm on with the remote. After several attempts, he figured out that it was either no longer installed or did not work. Either way, he knew exactly who to blame.
"Bitch," he hissed, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs. After a quick ascent, Mr. Lyle came to his apartment, where a man wearing a blaze orange suit was waiting for him. Mr. Lyle groaned in disgust, then approached the visitor.
"Subtle," he commented dryly, looking the man’s attire up and down.
"What?" the man questioned, putting his hands up in the typical gesture of confusion and innocence. The only things that gave him away were his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Mr. Lyle just rolled his eyes, then began to speak.
"I need you to do two things for me. One, get those goddamn bumper stickers off of my car," Mr. Lyle hissed, motioning towards his car, which was shining in varying colors in the parking lot. "The second thing I need you to do can only be explained inside." Mr. Lyle reached for his keys and jammed them into the lock, swiftly unlocking the door.
The scent that only extreme cleanliness can create wafted out of the apartment, nearly sending both of the men back on their asses. Mr. Lyle inhaled deeply and seemed to calm down instantly, while the mystery man looked like he was going to retch.
"Come in," Mr. Lyle demanded, leading the way into the Spartan apartment. The man in blaze orange followed, holding his breath to prevent becoming overwhelmed with the vile smell of ammonia and other cleaning compounds.
"You’ll need this for the second task," Lyle said, grabbing a piece of paper off of his desk and handing it to the man. The man began to read, but was cut off by Lyle.
"Now, this is what I need you to do. . ."
-----
The next morning, Miss Parker was driving down the road, on her way to The Centre for another day of work and taunting Lyle. She had a grim mood about her. She knew full well that Mr. Lyle would get her back sometime today, though she figured she was safe until at least ten, simply because she had gotten him right before he left work.
Boy, was she wrong.
As she drove down the road, she noticed the first of the many billboards that appeared along this particular stretch. She’d often wondered why there were nearly twenty billboards all along the road here, but, despite her best efforts, she’d been unable to find an answer. So, she merely resigned herself to the bombardment of ads that came each morning and night.
This morning, though, things were a little different. The first thing that attracted her to the first billboard was her picture—not a very good one either—pasted up, taking up nearly half of the billboard. The second thing was the title that ran alongside her picture.
Miss Parker’s Rules of Life
A.K.A. Things That Have Actually Happened to Her
Miss Parker’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, then realization dawned on her with the next billboard.
1. Follow your dream! Unless it's the one where you're at The Centre in your underwear during a fire drill.
"Lyle," she hissed out violently, her grip increasing on the steering wheel, turning her knuckles a pretty shade of pale.
She continued on, each billboard holding another "rule of life," increasing her anger exponentially.
2. Always take time to stop and smell the roses and sooner or later, you'll inhale a bee.
3. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me, either, just leave me alone.
4. If you don't like my driving, don't call anyone. Just take another road. That's why the highway department made so many of them.
5. If a motorist cuts you off, just turn the other cheek. Nothing gets the message across like a good mooning.
6. When I'm feeling down, I like to whistle. It makes the neighbor's dog run to the end of his chain and gag himself.
7. It's always darkest before the dawn. So if you're going to steal the neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.
8. A handy telephone tip: Keep a small chalkboard near the phone. That way, when a salesman calls, you can hold the receiver up to it and run your fingernails across it until he hangs up.
9. Each day I try to enjoy something from each of the four food groups: the bonbon group, the salty-snack group, the caffeine group and the "What-ever-the-thing-in-the-tinfoil-in-the-back-of-the-fridge-is" group.
10. Into every life some rain must fall. Usually when your car windows are down.
11. Just remember: You gotta break some eggs to make a real mess on the neighbor's car!
12. When you find yourself getting irritated with someone, try to remember that all men are sissies and just give them a noogie or an Indian burn.
13. This morning I woke up to the unmistakable scent of pigs in a blanket. That's the price you pay for letting the relatives stay over.
14. It's a small world. So you gotta use your elbows a lot.
15. Keep your nose to the grindstone and your shoulder to the wheel, it's a lot cheaper than plastic surgery.
16. This land is your land. This land is my land. So stay on your land.
17. Sex is like a roller coaster: When it's good you don't want to get off, and when it isn't you can't wait to throw up.
By the time Miss Parker had arrived at The Centre, she was so angry that she nearly took out the guard station and the guard within. She sped off and parked rather haphazardly in the parking garage, taking up four spaces with only one side in the parking area, the other in the driving lane.
She stormed up to her office and, outside, there was a mass of people. Everyone was laughing loudly, worry-free because the Ice Queen hadn’t come in quite yet. The angry click of her heels reverberated throughout the hallway, and suddenly all eyes were on her. She narrowed her eyes and they took off, leaving tiny dust clouds behind. A few had slammed into each other in their haste to escape, so they were lying on the floor, rubbing their heads and mumbling incoherently.
Miss Parker walked up to the wall beside her office door and primly took the list off of the wall, then strolled in her office, slamming the door behind her.
She had the perfect idea for how to get Mr. Lyle back. Her darling brother was going to pay.
-----
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com
by: chopsticks
p g
-----
Mr. Lyle whipped out his cell phone, pressing the speed dial as he sped out of The Centre’s parking garage. His car, while covered in bumper stickers, was still as functional as ever. All anyone standing on the side of the road saw was a multicolored blur as he sped past at a breakneck speed.
"Hello, this is Lyle," Mr. Lyle said into his slim, black cell phone. He jerked the wheel quickly with his left hand, his tires protesting loudly as he flew around a corner.
The person on the other end said something, but Lyle cut him off with a simple order. "Come to my house immediately. I will have two jobs for you." He snapped the phone shut and threw it into the passenger seat, grinning malevolently as he increased his speed.
Five minutes later and several terrified drivers later, Mr. Lyle arrived at his sterile apartment. He pulled into the parking lot and hurriedly climbed out of his car, attempting to turn his car alarm on with the remote. After several attempts, he figured out that it was either no longer installed or did not work. Either way, he knew exactly who to blame.
"Bitch," he hissed, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs. After a quick ascent, Mr. Lyle came to his apartment, where a man wearing a blaze orange suit was waiting for him. Mr. Lyle groaned in disgust, then approached the visitor.
"Subtle," he commented dryly, looking the man’s attire up and down.
"What?" the man questioned, putting his hands up in the typical gesture of confusion and innocence. The only things that gave him away were his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Mr. Lyle just rolled his eyes, then began to speak.
"I need you to do two things for me. One, get those goddamn bumper stickers off of my car," Mr. Lyle hissed, motioning towards his car, which was shining in varying colors in the parking lot. "The second thing I need you to do can only be explained inside." Mr. Lyle reached for his keys and jammed them into the lock, swiftly unlocking the door.
The scent that only extreme cleanliness can create wafted out of the apartment, nearly sending both of the men back on their asses. Mr. Lyle inhaled deeply and seemed to calm down instantly, while the mystery man looked like he was going to retch.
"Come in," Mr. Lyle demanded, leading the way into the Spartan apartment. The man in blaze orange followed, holding his breath to prevent becoming overwhelmed with the vile smell of ammonia and other cleaning compounds.
"You’ll need this for the second task," Lyle said, grabbing a piece of paper off of his desk and handing it to the man. The man began to read, but was cut off by Lyle.
"Now, this is what I need you to do. . ."
The next morning, Miss Parker was driving down the road, on her way to The Centre for another day of work and taunting Lyle. She had a grim mood about her. She knew full well that Mr. Lyle would get her back sometime today, though she figured she was safe until at least ten, simply because she had gotten him right before he left work.
Boy, was she wrong.
As she drove down the road, she noticed the first of the many billboards that appeared along this particular stretch. She’d often wondered why there were nearly twenty billboards all along the road here, but, despite her best efforts, she’d been unable to find an answer. So, she merely resigned herself to the bombardment of ads that came each morning and night.
This morning, though, things were a little different. The first thing that attracted her to the first billboard was her picture—not a very good one either—pasted up, taking up nearly half of the billboard. The second thing was the title that ran alongside her picture.
Miss Parker’s Rules of Life
A.K.A. Things That Have Actually Happened to Her
Miss Parker’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment, then realization dawned on her with the next billboard.
1. Follow your dream! Unless it's the one where you're at The Centre in your underwear during a fire drill.
"Lyle," she hissed out violently, her grip increasing on the steering wheel, turning her knuckles a pretty shade of pale.
She continued on, each billboard holding another "rule of life," increasing her anger exponentially.
2. Always take time to stop and smell the roses and sooner or later, you'll inhale a bee.
3. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me, either, just leave me alone.
4. If you don't like my driving, don't call anyone. Just take another road. That's why the highway department made so many of them.
5. If a motorist cuts you off, just turn the other cheek. Nothing gets the message across like a good mooning.
6. When I'm feeling down, I like to whistle. It makes the neighbor's dog run to the end of his chain and gag himself.
7. It's always darkest before the dawn. So if you're going to steal the neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.
8. A handy telephone tip: Keep a small chalkboard near the phone. That way, when a salesman calls, you can hold the receiver up to it and run your fingernails across it until he hangs up.
9. Each day I try to enjoy something from each of the four food groups: the bonbon group, the salty-snack group, the caffeine group and the "What-ever-the-thing-in-the-tinfoil-in-the-back-of-the-fridge-is" group.
10. Into every life some rain must fall. Usually when your car windows are down.
11. Just remember: You gotta break some eggs to make a real mess on the neighbor's car!
12. When you find yourself getting irritated with someone, try to remember that all men are sissies and just give them a noogie or an Indian burn.
13. This morning I woke up to the unmistakable scent of pigs in a blanket. That's the price you pay for letting the relatives stay over.
14. It's a small world. So you gotta use your elbows a lot.
15. Keep your nose to the grindstone and your shoulder to the wheel, it's a lot cheaper than plastic surgery.
16. This land is your land. This land is my land. So stay on your land.
17. Sex is like a roller coaster: When it's good you don't want to get off, and when it isn't you can't wait to throw up.
By the time Miss Parker had arrived at The Centre, she was so angry that she nearly took out the guard station and the guard within. She sped off and parked rather haphazardly in the parking garage, taking up four spaces with only one side in the parking area, the other in the driving lane.
She stormed up to her office and, outside, there was a mass of people. Everyone was laughing loudly, worry-free because the Ice Queen hadn’t come in quite yet. The angry click of her heels reverberated throughout the hallway, and suddenly all eyes were on her. She narrowed her eyes and they took off, leaving tiny dust clouds behind. A few had slammed into each other in their haste to escape, so they were lying on the floor, rubbing their heads and mumbling incoherently.
Miss Parker walked up to the wall beside her office door and primly took the list off of the wall, then strolled in her office, slamming the door behind her.
She had the perfect idea for how to get Mr. Lyle back. Her darling brother was going to pay.
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com
