A Renaissance Context Ditty

In fact taught to me by a history student, but never mind that, Lila is awesome. And this is why:

To the tune of 'Supercalafragilisticexpealadocious'

Papal indulgences and transubstatiation
give your views on this and face excommunication
pin your thesis to the door and start a reformation
papal indulgences and transubstatiatiooooooon!!!

Ohhhh THAT'S What she was singing in rehearsal!!!

All I heard was something about Sex communication

Sex communication? Well, I guess it is about the catholic church...

Fail

Like textual intercourse?

She was muttering it to herself in a fevered way. At first I thought she was speaking in tongues, until I heard her murmur "sex communication". It was the one piece of cookie dough missing from the mixture. My colt twitched nervously in it's holster, aching to jump into my hand and blow the strange lady away. I Reached into the other pocket and Pulled out my other friend.

I have two friends. One I keep loaded and the other keeps me loaded. The latter stilled my nerves as I wandered up to the building. Sleazy Red neon signs burned the air with their sins as loyal husbands went to get perfectly innocent massages at the parlors below.

The word "Vandersexxx" was emblazoned on the building I now trudged towards. I walked in, playing it Bogart as I've done so many times before. The receptionist glanced up and I saw her without her mask on. Sheer disgust writhed between her eyes until her Candy-floss coloured lips twisted themselves from a sneer to a smile.

"Velcome to Vandersexx!" The words escaped her as if each syllable was pure ecstasy. If I hadn't glimpsed the truth, I would've believed she was genuinely happy to see me.

"I want a blow job... for this" The colt was in my hand as if it had jumped there by itself. The mask was well and truly shattered as the whore let her true feelings shown.

Her poisonous words seeped through the drunken haze of the bouncers behind me and the world exploded into white.

Everything was going to plan.

um... That's very nice Logan...

Wow.


Just wow.


What the fuck was that?

The sparks flew in front of my eyes. Then my vision cleared. I was tied to a chair in some mafia boss's office. Blood trickled down my face. It was mine and it was warm. That meant I was still alive. for now.

The bouncers moved away with an incomprehensible grunt as their Boss, Ben Rutter, walked towards me, a schoolboy grin plastered on his greasy face.

"Well well well, what have we here?" Rutter quoted from the script of cliche. He was acting like I was right where he wanted me. Unfortunately for him, It was right where I wanted to be too.

I played it mum. I let Rutter prattle on about his plans for the city. I couldn't hear him over the blood rushing to my head as I readied myself. One of the goons was behind me, supposedly intimidating. His lungs betrayed him as my skull pushed all the air out of them. He sank like a souffle in a cupboard and it was on.

The knife concealed in my sleeve had served me well. I was through the ropes and the other goon. The look on his face was one of confusion and fear. It seemed unfamiliar to see his own blood on someone else's hands.

Rutter looked like a fish out of water. When His stomach hit the floor, he was well and truly done. I picked my friends up off the table and they finished the job for me.

The pounding on the door mixed with the rapid pace of my heart and I knew the night wasn't over yet.

Well, this is exciting, but should it be in the novella section?

I heard a woman's voice from behind a locked door. I ignored it and moved on. I wasn't a hero. I had no Illusions about that. I was a lonely warrior, fighting a battle for one.

I'm scared.

Synaesthesia wrote:

I'm scared.

Yet undeniably intrigued...

Yeah... more please!

"I was playing it Bogart..." one of the coolest lines ever. This whole thing should be filmed in black and white and voiced over by Clint Eastwood.

The woman screamed once more until her captor shut her up with a bang.

The sound rang around inside my head as I turned to the door. A swift kick sent it flying inwards and smashed another bruiser in the face, making it a lot flatter. Blood trickled on the floor from the slumped woman. She was hit pretty bad but she seemed to be alive. The thump of stupid footsteps was escalating in intensity and volume. I had a decision to make and I needed to make it quickly.

(What should I do?)

INTERACTIVE FICTION!!!

OVERACTIVE IMAGINATION!

MAKE A CHOICE!!