Unrelated Matters

[Paddy]

. thanks yet again, glad to see you better

[SKILORD]

I'm glad to see I'm better too.

I got a little bit of the humor back into that, but I suppose it would be best if I put more in (If this is to remain a humorous piece)

Thanx Paddy.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice work SKI sorry I have'nt got around to reading this untill now but Ive been very busy.

Anyways its a great piece and very funny, please keep the goods coming

[SKILORD]

Most certainly.

I'll have a new chapter up tonight.

[Paddy]

Ok so this post is a tad cheeky...

especially considering the delays etc that I had with 'People of the Valley'

but one must ask, where do I find the new chapter


If I have over stepped the mark, please note that executions are at 3pm here in Sydney, which would be one way to deal with me....

it is just that I enjoy the stories as you may be aware

[SKILORD]

I realize that, and I do realize that I should very well have gotten a chapter up but a variety of personal affairs which required my meddeling over the Christmas Break, combined with severe computer problems (This is being typed on a borrowed laptop) leaves me with little time or ability to write this presently. I assurer you that I will finish this, I'm working quite studiously on it.

While you're waiting, why not visit my website and look at my assaults on the dignities of authors better established than myself.

[Paddy]

hahhaa thanks

[Metaliturtle]

SKILORD, this is freaking great. I'm laughing my bum diggidy off over here

[SKILORD]

Alright, I'll try to get some more out.

[vovan]

Heya, Skilord, I hope you didn't break a finger skiing or something, 'cause I just finished reading the one chapter I missed, and I want more!

Seriously, this is good. I think writing something humorous is a good diversion both for you and for us.

[SKILORD]

Chapter 8: Confessions to a Cruel God

Elizabeth’s fist wavered over the door and pulled away, she paced back and forth, peering at the expensive wood of the door.

A voice came from nowhere, “What is it, dear madam?”

She was startled, “Just…. Needed to talk to chairman Lincoln.”

“He’ll see you shortly, please come inside.”

“Damn cameras,” Elizabeth cursed under her breath, Lincoln had become omnipresent through the cameras, but for sake of her safety, she felt them justified.

She sat in the waiting room of the office, Lincoln had begun spending more and more time here than in the White House, in the old days she would have had to drive all the way down to Pennsylvania Avenue to meet him, Elizabeth had shunned driving lately, always afraid that a mark of red would betray her.

“He will see you now,” the receptionist shared a smile with her. A dark toned Zulu walked out from the office, smiling broadly and shaking hands enthusiastically with Lincoln.

As he left Lincoln smiled to her, indicating his office and explaining, “I was granted veto powers over the delegations, the Zulu had just sent Shikur for approval, sorry for the wait."

“No, its nothing,” she waved him off feebly.

“You look rather pale, is it too cold in my waiting room?” he pulled his chair up to his desk, seating himself.

“No, that’s fine, but it is this that I need to talk to you about.”

Lincoln nodded reassuringly, “You can tell me anything that’s bothering you.”

Elizabeth nodded and smiled as any inferior would, “Yesterday morning…”

She stuttered unintelligibly for a moment, Lincoln smiled, “Yes dear?”

“I’ve killed a man.”

Lincoln frowns back at her, “Who was it, that you feel you’ve killed?”

Her own frown entrenched itself even deeper as her eyes darted across the room to make sure that she couldn’t see any cameras, “Mandu. He was lying in the middle of the parking lot and I ran over him and disposed of the body.”

Lincoln frowned even further, with a sigh he began, “You know, I should probably have you arrested.”

Elizabeth nodded furiously, weeping.

“But I like you Elizabeth, I always have.”

The nodding continued, hopeful, “I needed someone to confide in and I just knew you were the man to do it. Is there anything I can do in return, sir? You have no idea how much you’ve lifted off of my shoulders.”

Lincoln smiled benignly at her and slid across the table a sheet of paper, “Write down the codes for the British Warheads.”

Elizabeth shook her head in confusion, “The band?’

Lincoln smiled, “The warheads, Elizabeth.”

Her face assumed a look of utter disbelief, “I can’t do that what of the…”

“Elizabeth, unless you want to live out your days in chains you can’t afford not to,” he leaned in, breathing aggressively across the table, “The American justice system can be terribly cruel, there are some rather harsh prisons.”

“You… You wouldn’t!”

“Why not? I’m not the father figure I’ve become.”

“You can’t prove anything! I’ll deny all of this!”

Lincoln smiled, “I’m sure that there is parking video to help prove whatever you’ve said.”

Elizabeth’s eyes loss in that moment all luster, surrendering to the dark reality that she realized she had confined herself to. She picked up a pen and began to write.

“I’ll be checking those, you know.”

She shot her eyes up at him, marked out some numbers and began again, Lincoln smiled.

“By the way,” he earned another glare, “What did you do with the body?”

-

“This is channel seven news at the morgue, where the body peeled off of the street last week has been identified as none other than missing Prime Minister Mandu, allegedly of the Zulu nation. After much DNA testing it was ascertained that this was indeed the Prime Minister, isn’t that right Doctor?”

Doctor Zeinblin, who was in fact not a doctor but rather a con man posing as a doctor while he worked his way to Detroit smiled and turned around from the body.

“Vell, joo zee,” his accent was outlandish and he hid a grin as he realized that the people were buying everything, even his poorly faked white moustache that didn’t even match the color of the rest of his hair, “Zee man in qvestion, he vas playing in traffic at zee thyme…”

“What?” the newswoman shook her head in disbelief.

“Vell, despite our research vee have yet to determine vat he vas playing, some theorize perhapz a game of pin zee tail on zee donkee vhile ozzers belive is to be some form of vall-ball… err wall ball.”

“This makes no sense, can you be certain that he was playing in the street, this wasn’t some mafia hit or something?”

“Vell, upon finding a bullet in his skull some zeeorized zat, but you zee, vee have every reason to believe that the bullet vas simply carelessly plazed and fell into zee wreckage.”

“What?”

“Jes, joo heard, properly, childerens, let ziss be a varning to yoo all, do not be playing in zee streets.”

“But this makes no…”

-

Temujin lay sprawledc across the bar, sipping on the finest vodka he could bear to waste, he was too drunk to taste any of it anyway, “Barkeep,” he lifted his hand in the signal that he had long ago established in the bar.

The bar in question was composed generally of ivory, with a finely set mahogany top that had never been intended to meet the alcohol it would hold, despite this there wa even now fermented fruit of potato seeping mightily across the bar.

Another bottle found it’s way across the bar.

“Hard day?”

Temujin had intended for no companion, yet it was only with a muffled shock that he appraised the man, easily six feet tall And yet slim in build, his dark hair drooping sloppily across his forehead, “Yeah, none of yer business. This is big boy stuff.”

Though obviously taken aback, the other man forced his hand out,. “Senator McDowle of the United States Senate, you are Temujin of the Mongols unless I am mistaken.”

“Yeah,” Temujin’s half shut eyes appraised the man, seeking for fear, finding none, but then again he was drunk.

“Is it Lincoln?”

Temujin bolted aright, dropping his new bottle of vodka and lifting his hand again at the bartender, “How do you…”

McDowle smiled knowingly, “What has a man to do but listen to know?”

“Listen to what?”

“Your drunken ramblings,” McDowle contorted his body into a semblance of Temujin, “He’s got all the power, things used to be different, he’s murdering us off, its all my fault.”

Temujin pulled himself off of the bar, nearly sitting by his own power, “When did I say that?”

“Not three minutes ago, everyone else left because of your ramblings, but you need to be freed, not shunned. I have a proposition for you.”

“What?”

“Would you like to get Lincoln out of the way?”

From across the bar James Smiley, professional bartender and part time revolutionary smiled.

[Metaliturtle]

X Cell ant

[Paddy]

Thanks, just what we needed...

[unscratchedfoot]

Lincoln's an evil dude for sure. How's he going to test those nuke codes? Testfire?

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Good addittion Ski, but is this story developing into a more serious piece than earlier intended ?

No matter, its a good read