| Death, Conquest, War and Larry- Chapter 1
This entry was originally published at Jen's Blog
I haven’t posted anything for a really long time, as I’ve been busy, busy, busy. However, I’ve had this sitting in my drafts section, just waiting for a bit more polish and editing. I needed a bit of a shove from Kristen as well, so as promised, here it is.
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Jen’s Note: During a Google chat session, Kristen and I brainstormed the idea behind the following short story. I’m planning on writing more of it, and will release it in chapters here on the blog….for all….oh, 5 of you who actually read it. I hope you enjoy, and if not, you can stuff it. :D
Death, Conquest, War and Larry (A Tale of Middle Aged Crisis) - Chapter 1
“Yeah, I’ll get it to you as soon as I have it, June. Yeah. Gotta go.”
Larry hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. “That bitch just doesn’t know when to quit.” He muttered to himself before heaving another sigh and then went back into his garage, which was really just a wooden shack, barely big enough to fit the ‘39 Chevy that Larry seemed to have been working on for his entire life.
Larry’s garage was his life. Working on the Chev was the only thing that brought him any happiness in life these days, especially after June, that life-sucking wench, divorced him 5 years ago. As he tinkered with the engine, Larry thought that if she called one more time to harrass him about the alimony and child support he owed her, he would probably die from the shrill voice on the other end of the telephone. It’s not like he didn’t work his ass off, he thought to himself. He had basically sold his soul to the DMV fifteen years ago, and trudged into work every day to give driving tests and deal with snotty teenagers and their parents with his head held somewhat-high. For all that work though, he still brought home less than $500 a week, and June pretty much took all of it.
Another reason that the garage was his life was because Larry didn’t do anything else. He went to work, came home, tinkered with the Chev, and went to bed. Wake up the next morning, rinse and repeat. He knew that he wasn’t the most attractive of men-folk, with his balding mousey brown hair and squint, not to mention the beer belly hanging over his belt, so he didn’t bother to go out to try and meet someone new. He was fully resigned to his life, and never thought of trying to dig himself out of the miserable hole he had found himself in after the divorce.
He didn’t really care about his kids….or rather, they didn’t seem to care about him. They had a new dad now, so he wasn’t worried about them. He saw them maybe twice a year, Chad the pothead and his sister Carrie; both of them like their mother, always asking for more. More money, more time, more whatever. They were June’s idea anyways. He would have prefered to live the life of the newlywed with her; do some traveling, see the world…but it just wasn’t meant to be. After the first year, he knew that he was nothing more than a dog on a chain to her, and after the tenth, he was almost literally living in the doghouse.
As Larry tinkered with the Chev’s engine, he thought about how much of a shrew his ex-wife was and dreamed of the day he would be free of her. Elsewhere though, other things were happening that Larry would never even think of being connected to, but they were things that would soon bring change to his humdrum life.
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Standing on a high hill overlooking a scenic valley were three horsemen. Each of them cloaked and hooded in a different, distinctive color - white, red, and a sickly green color that some might have called pale. Their horses’ colors mirrored their garb, even the pale rider’s, and they pawed restlessly at the ground below, waiting for their owners to be about their business. They had each come from distant parts of the world, meeting on this day, at this hour, and in this place, to fulfil their designated destinies; their roles in the larger play of life.
“Whaddya mean he’s not coming? Does he have a hot date or somethin?” As he asked the question, the rider in red grasped reflexively the sword that was sheathed at his side. “He knows that this is his duty, the one thing that he exists for….what a loser.”
“It is not our place to judge him, War,” replied the rider in white, his voice laced with quiet authority and certainty. “You know as well as I that if any of us found a way to alter what lies before us, we would do so. I only hope that he realizes the consequences of his actions.” The pale rider scoffed at this and countered, “This isn’t exactly a job that you can quit, Conquest. He’s going to have to be first on the list.” He shook his head remorsefully, saying “The Boss isn’t going to like this at all.”
The three horsemen sat silently for a moment, the vista before them still, quiet and peaceful. Finally, the silence was broken by the pale rider. “We need to find a replacement,” he glanced up to the sky before adding, “and soon.”
“A replacement? Um…is that in the rulebook?” War’s expression said that he didn’t think it was, but Conquest sighed and said, “I don’t really know, but we can’t go clomping about doing…what we do, with only three of us. We have to have four.” He nodded, as if to himself, and then added, “It just doesn’t sound the same, the Three Horsemen. If we were French, it would be a different matter, I suppose…..” Conquest let that thought sink into his companion’s heads, and then went on, “We should probably consult with The Boss, see what he wants to do.”
Death shook his head while making a disgusted noise, setting his pale horse to paw at the ground. “The Boss is just going to tell us to go out there and get the job done. You both know it.” The other two horsemen looked uncertain, especially War, who fidgeted restlessly with his swordbelt. Finally, capitulation seemed to overtake them, and they both nodded with confidence. “Alright then,” Conquest said, “but whoever we find had better fit the bill, if you know what I mean.” The other two just nodded their heads and gave non-commital responses as the white rider waved his hand in the air before him, causing the air to harden and shimmer slightly. “What we need, is someone who has no life, no prospects, no nothing. No family men, no corporate moguls. Just someone who can get the job done.”
The conjuration began flashing images of men’s faces one after another, until it stopped on the image of a balding man with mousey brown hair and a squint. War laughed at the image, saying, “So that’s our Famine, eh? He doesn’t look like much.”
“Well, Famine really didn’t do much anyways….he just sat there with his scales, making pronouncements of impending doom, you know his schtick,” said the pale rider. Conquest however, seemed to be intently studying the image, as if commiting it to memory. “Alright. Let’s get going, and recruit this guy. We need to get going with The Boss’ plan.”
The horsemen wheeled their horses and began galloping towards the city which was nestled in the valley, on their way to recruit the newest horseman.
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