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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
List Provided By: Jamie.
Sibling Rivalry XIX
by: chopsticks
p g
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Lyle had not done his paperwork. In fact, he had spent much of his night trying to come up with a good retaliation against his sister for her latest stunt.
He had slowly (and somewhat painfully, as he discovered that coffee is a rather hot substance) realized that he was running out of ideas. In fact, he was fresh out.
This was not good.
But, ten hours later, he now had a plan. It was not very original, but, by his count, this would be the twentieth list posted. Surely Miss Parker had to be running out of ideas as well. There weren't that many ways to post lists!
So, Lyle set off to find the painters that were still working on his office, since they had spent all of the day before painting the rotunda and had only managed to finish half of a wall.
Unfortunately for Lyle, the rotunda had yet to be repainted, even though Raines had ordered it repainted three hours ago. In fact, the painters had not been seen since they finished in the rotunda the day before. So, every time he walked down the hallway, people would start to laugh at him. To their credit, they did it as discreetly as possible, but he still noticed. By now, Lyle had learned that death threats wouldn't stop the laughter, and, besides, there wasn't enough time in the year to kill all the people he had threatened. Well, to kill them well, at least.
So, while everyone he passed on his way to his old office snickered quite obviously, he simply ground his teeth and tried to keep from "accidentally" lashing out.
Inside his office, the painters had just started to paint where they had left off the previous day. Lyle narrowed his eyes and scrutinized their work, making sure everything was the way it was supposed to be. Basic white. They were doing an absolutely perfect job with it as well.
"Gentlemen," he said loudly, startling the painters and making one nearly fall of his ladder.
"Whoa. . ." the blond one muttered, grabbing onto the ladder and leaning the opposite way, a little bit freaked out.
"I have another job for you," Lyle announced, a malevolent grin appearing on his face. The painters gulped simultaneously, but knew better than to say "no" to Mr. Lyle.
-----
Lyle grinned in amusement as the painters did what they do best: paint! As far as he was concerned, the fuchsia on neon green looked lovely, especially since he knew his sister despised bright colors.
A few minutes later, out of the corner of his eye, Mr. Lyle noticed his supposed father approaching and look around. Lyle continued to watch Mr. Parker out of the corner of his eye, as the older man looked around for a bit, obviously trying to understand the paint job. He soon spotted Lyle and headed over, and Lyle immediately tensed up. He didn't need to get his ass handed to him over this, of all things. He could only hope that he wouldn't be blamed for Miss Parker's little paint job earlier.
"They're doing the funny squiggly lines thing again. . ." Mr. Parker said, coming to stand beside Lyle.
Lyle glanced sideways at Mr. Parker, confused as to what the older man was talking about. "Um, yeah. . .they are?"
"Mm-hmm. You know, we really should hire different painters. These ones are giving me a migraine, especially with the colors!"
"I think that might be the paint fumes."
"Oh, right. Well, carry on. . .or something. . ." And with that, Mr. Parker ambled off, quite obviously high off of the paint fumes. Lyle could only hope that he wouldn't remember any of this when he came down again, and was very glad he'd had the presence of mind to go to the medical ward and get an injection so he wouldn't get high off the fumes.
Lyle went back to watching the painters, an evil grin gracing his features the entire time.
-----
Miss Parker stood up and stretched, trying to work the cricks out of her back. She had been working on paperwork for the past twelve hours, and her fingers and the rest of her body ached from it.
As far as she was concerned, she was finished, and it was time to go home to her waiting bottle of vodka. She began to feel better just thinking about it, sitting there in its clear bottle, happily awaiting her arrival.
She was going to have a very nice night.
She flipped the lights off in her office and walked out, not noticing the figure lurking in the shadows. She continued on her way, heading straight out of The Centre to the parking garage.
Little did she know she was being followed.
When she reached the rotunda, she immediately noticed the crowd of people standing around, spinning in a slow circle. She immediately assumed they were still reading the list she had painted up there, so she didn't think anything of it. It was only when she noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye near the wall, that she saw that the walls were now neon green. And there was fuchsia painted on top of that.
"What the. . ." she mumbled, looking up. Immediately, she recognized her name painted on the wall.
"Oh, son of a bitch!" she shouted. Immediately, people scattered, and the figure that had been following her was nearly trampled in the hasty exit made by the crowd. Miss Parker ignored all this, instead intent on reading what was painted on the walls.
Miss Parker's Deep Thoughts
(As transcribed by Angelo)
- A flying saucer results when a nudist spills her coffee.
- They say when nature calls you should answer it, I say let the answering machine get it.
- Never knock on Death's door. Ring the doorbell and run, he hates that!
- Statistics are like bikinis. What they conceal is more important than what they reveal.
- Time flies when you're in a coma.
- Yes, I work for Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.
- We are born naked, wet and hungry. Then things get worse.
- People who love sausage and respect the law should never watch either of them being made.
- This isn't Burger King, you can't have it your way, but you can have it my way.
"That bastard!" she shouted again. It was just her luck that she would now have to clean up the mess she had intended for her brother.
She stalked out of the rotunda, her night completely ruined and villainous revenge schemes flitting through her head.
-----
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com.
by: chopsticks
p g
-----
Lyle had not done his paperwork. In fact, he had spent much of his night trying to come up with a good retaliation against his sister for her latest stunt.
He had slowly (and somewhat painfully, as he discovered that coffee is a rather hot substance) realized that he was running out of ideas. In fact, he was fresh out.
This was not good.
But, ten hours later, he now had a plan. It was not very original, but, by his count, this would be the twentieth list posted. Surely Miss Parker had to be running out of ideas as well. There weren't that many ways to post lists!
So, Lyle set off to find the painters that were still working on his office, since they had spent all of the day before painting the rotunda and had only managed to finish half of a wall.
Unfortunately for Lyle, the rotunda had yet to be repainted, even though Raines had ordered it repainted three hours ago. In fact, the painters had not been seen since they finished in the rotunda the day before. So, every time he walked down the hallway, people would start to laugh at him. To their credit, they did it as discreetly as possible, but he still noticed. By now, Lyle had learned that death threats wouldn't stop the laughter, and, besides, there wasn't enough time in the year to kill all the people he had threatened. Well, to kill them well, at least.
So, while everyone he passed on his way to his old office snickered quite obviously, he simply ground his teeth and tried to keep from "accidentally" lashing out.
Inside his office, the painters had just started to paint where they had left off the previous day. Lyle narrowed his eyes and scrutinized their work, making sure everything was the way it was supposed to be. Basic white. They were doing an absolutely perfect job with it as well.
"Gentlemen," he said loudly, startling the painters and making one nearly fall of his ladder.
"Whoa. . ." the blond one muttered, grabbing onto the ladder and leaning the opposite way, a little bit freaked out.
"I have another job for you," Lyle announced, a malevolent grin appearing on his face. The painters gulped simultaneously, but knew better than to say "no" to Mr. Lyle.
Lyle grinned in amusement as the painters did what they do best: paint! As far as he was concerned, the fuchsia on neon green looked lovely, especially since he knew his sister despised bright colors.
A few minutes later, out of the corner of his eye, Mr. Lyle noticed his supposed father approaching and look around. Lyle continued to watch Mr. Parker out of the corner of his eye, as the older man looked around for a bit, obviously trying to understand the paint job. He soon spotted Lyle and headed over, and Lyle immediately tensed up. He didn't need to get his ass handed to him over this, of all things. He could only hope that he wouldn't be blamed for Miss Parker's little paint job earlier.
"They're doing the funny squiggly lines thing again. . ." Mr. Parker said, coming to stand beside Lyle.
Lyle glanced sideways at Mr. Parker, confused as to what the older man was talking about. "Um, yeah. . .they are?"
"Mm-hmm. You know, we really should hire different painters. These ones are giving me a migraine, especially with the colors!"
"I think that might be the paint fumes."
"Oh, right. Well, carry on. . .or something. . ." And with that, Mr. Parker ambled off, quite obviously high off of the paint fumes. Lyle could only hope that he wouldn't remember any of this when he came down again, and was very glad he'd had the presence of mind to go to the medical ward and get an injection so he wouldn't get high off the fumes.
Lyle went back to watching the painters, an evil grin gracing his features the entire time.
Miss Parker stood up and stretched, trying to work the cricks out of her back. She had been working on paperwork for the past twelve hours, and her fingers and the rest of her body ached from it.
As far as she was concerned, she was finished, and it was time to go home to her waiting bottle of vodka. She began to feel better just thinking about it, sitting there in its clear bottle, happily awaiting her arrival.
She was going to have a very nice night.
She flipped the lights off in her office and walked out, not noticing the figure lurking in the shadows. She continued on her way, heading straight out of The Centre to the parking garage.
Little did she know she was being followed.
When she reached the rotunda, she immediately noticed the crowd of people standing around, spinning in a slow circle. She immediately assumed they were still reading the list she had painted up there, so she didn't think anything of it. It was only when she noticed some movement out of the corner of her eye near the wall, that she saw that the walls were now neon green. And there was fuchsia painted on top of that.
"What the. . ." she mumbled, looking up. Immediately, she recognized her name painted on the wall.
"Oh, son of a bitch!" she shouted. Immediately, people scattered, and the figure that had been following her was nearly trampled in the hasty exit made by the crowd. Miss Parker ignored all this, instead intent on reading what was painted on the walls.
Miss Parker's Deep Thoughts
(As transcribed by Angelo)
- A flying saucer results when a nudist spills her coffee.
- They say when nature calls you should answer it, I say let the answering machine get it.
- Never knock on Death's door. Ring the doorbell and run, he hates that!
- Statistics are like bikinis. What they conceal is more important than what they reveal.
- Time flies when you're in a coma.
- Yes, I work for Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.
- We are born naked, wet and hungry. Then things get worse.
- People who love sausage and respect the law should never watch either of them being made.
- This isn't Burger King, you can't have it your way, but you can have it my way.
"That bastard!" she shouted again. It was just her luck that she would now have to clean up the mess she had intended for her brother.
She stalked out of the rotunda, her night completely ruined and villainous revenge schemes flitting through her head.
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com.
