Thursday, January 7, 2010

Urban Picnic - 3WW - Drain, Epic, Nibble

Rupert pricked the flesh with his twin-pronged fork and delicately, slowly, carved a waver thin slice away. He raised it over his head, dangling the meat above his lips before sensuously lowering it into his mouth. He loosed a low, contented moan as he chewed, savouring the mastication.

"What's it taste like?" old Tom asked, fingering the strap about his knee.

Rupert cut circles in the air with the tip of his knife, seeking inspiration. "Gamey, like grouse that's been hung just a little too long. Do you want some? Perhaps, just a nibble?"

"No ta, mate!" old Tom exclaimed. "Not my cup of tea, so to speak, chief. What's you fellows again? Epic something?"

"The Chelsea Squires Epicurean Society, Thomas, but if I tell you one more time I'll assume you're showing far too much interest. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Just making conversation," Tom muttered.

Rupert carved off another slice. "No discomfort? No pain?"

Tom shook his head. "Haven't felt nothing there for months."

Rupert nodded in sympathy. "I've felt very little of anything for decades."

"So, why ain't you off some place posh eating little birds stuffed inside bigger birds and so on?" Thomas asked.

"Ah, the recession, Thomas. The damned recession. Ill-gotten gains drain away like the pus from a tramp's leg."

"Sorry about that," Thomas said. He cast a yellowed eye over the line of potential diners stretched out of the room, into the corridor and beyond, each with his cutlery in hand. There was good money to be made. He reached out to pinch the meaty part of his other calf between grimy fingers, but winced with pain. Too bad.

12 comments:

  1. Inspired by Three Word Wednesday from ThomG.

    I quite enjoyed this. Rushed as usual, and sparser than ever, but I figure the trick with a three word inspiration is paring down the rest of the story so the three words don't get lost. Of course, I may just be full of BS.

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  2. That may be, but damn you are one hell of a wordsmith. Well-played sir.

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  3. I enjoy the sounds of your language. I am new to 3WW and one of the rewards is finding great language like this.

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  4. The language gives it a specific place, not now. The ending is very very creepy in a good way

    http://courtingdestiny.com

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  5. Oh, the language is actually a genuine dialect known as Scouse Hobo. I've only approximated at it, because I'm not fluent, so what I've presented above is really faux Scouse Hobo. You can read all about it on Wikipedia.

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  6. Anton, this is a fabulous take on the prompt and what 3WW is all about. Finding a voice and using three words to create something. I love the creepiness of this. Great dialogue. I think you've done wonders with the description as well.

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  7. It's going to sound so silly, but the use of "mastication" was so perfect in that first paragraph--even before knowing more. It just struck me. Had to tell you. I like this piece and I also like the metaphorical connections one could play with in relation to it. Nice. :)

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  8. Damn, but that was good. I had a sneaky feeling where this was going, and am pleased to say the nausea your tale has induced proved me right. Moved me in more ways than one! ;)

    Well done, sir!

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  9. An epicurean delight. I like the idea of the 3WW thing.

    Marc nash

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  10. Oh! And they weren't crashed in the Andes...

    You may think it rushed, you may think it sparser than usual, but it still is a damn good piece of writing!

    And unlike Sam, no nausea was involved...

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  11. ugh um gorgeous writing but I shouldn't have read it right after lunch!! The Chelsea Squires Epicurean Society is a scary group but for some reason they don't scare me as much as Thomas.

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