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Head of The Table Bygones be bygones
Sip, another sip…wait when was my coffee over, it took him some time to realize his coffee cup was dry and for the last five minutes he was sipping air, but it was expected the man was in deep thought and same time shocked and confused, he just came to his senses that he actually went on his knees and apologized, his ego, his pride, was it numbed by the alcohol and caged silently by the liquor that he was shameful enough to do such a thing. He bit his lower lip, hands clenched together, elbows leaning on his knee joints, his head balanced by his fists, should I go there and beat them up, should I take back my apology, should I… all should I thoughts raced in. An apology wasn’t a physical object you can snatch back and beat the one you gave, it was emotional and you can’t take away emotions, so Brian the tyrant, was confused, tensed anxious, his ankles were shaking making a consecutive knock of three intervals per second. Just a stone throw away, he actually had visual of it, that is
Head of The Table Plan B
Peace…no that’s too optimistic cause there was still doubt by each one, so truce call it…maybe that’s the word for it truce because yes the cabinet members were locking horns with their temporary boss, and yes they had no trust in him, but for the sake of the business or at least for Ben’s sake, they just have to play by the book, so yes truce it is. A week later the knights were discharged and it took them long enough because in that one week hell was burning up, worse was if any of them show a flick of odd health issues it’s back to the ward. In the board room or that’s what they called it though it wasn’t structured as one, a rosewood customized table was at the center, at the far walls, piles of broken woodwork and pointy dangerous steel bars, all dusty and dark where mice sheltered themselves and other pestering miscreants seek cover, open arm sized windows let in fresh air accompanied with the sun’s warming heat, despite the already lightened room by the sun’s rays, a dangling
Head of The Table Let the man drink
Rusty metal handle, large hallow cylindrical encase, filled with today’s special or everyday special Blue cake liquor on the house. One mug, another and another, he gulped one after the other groaning as it gave a burning sensation down his throat, grinding his teeth as he forced air through his clamped creamy jaws, touchdown the landing was heavy as the liquor settled with the rest devoured ingredients inside his filling belly. He hadn’t foreseen this bullshit, his day started off well, the normal routine bouncing bossing around the station, listening to cry’s of widows, whacking some scumbags caught in last night’s bar fight down the alley, it was just going well he gladdened his self. Ring! Amidst his physical therapy with some law breakers in the good cell, an amateur teen had poured liquor on the deejay’s laptop and vandalized his mixer, well he was getting some beat-up but at least he wasn’t paying the fine but his body was getting it hard. Saved by the ring, bloody everywhere,
Head of The Table It’s a date
“My name is Zod Kong, chief inspector of south blue police station here in the south of Madagascar. Recently, there has been a fiery protest here at the docking stations and a lot has transpired. Unfortunately, many lives are lost, many sent to hospital and lots of public property damaged. However, I have done my research and find the people aren’t as guilty as they may be portrayed by other senior people I the government. They actually are the good guys and the menace behind this is…” Mr. Zod pauses as he thinks of how to fitly place and describe his second character. Cruel, no too gentle, devil, no too harsh, as he chooses and filters his vocabulary that puts the frame to his character, he nods and gasps gladly as he continues. “…their boss. They call him a tyrant, a man whose barbarism has fueled and lit the flame to this outraged and uncontrolled wild fire, Mr. Brian, is the man behind this. I have witnesses who will attest before a court of law and comply to stand trial against
Head of The Table The court it is then
Natured and hardened by the streets, woke up as a fake brother to a millionaire drug lord, ever since fond of wearing the more casual clothing like simple sweat pants, jeans, less suits and tuxedos, this occasion prompted him and circumstances forced him to wear the more office clothing. Powder blue, nah too loud, how about white, yah white will do. Evaluating the classic and expensive diverse options of cotton fabric shirts he settled for the white long sleeved shirt as he sensed it was more official. For the suit he went with the Britain taste, more of the similar classic grey suit but more heavy on the grey touch, and of course he couldn’t ruin this fashioned lineup by some whacky slacks that turns this respectable and desired attire into a more clown and more joking charade, so the man led by his taste in the classic Kingston fashion chose the fitting classic grey trousers matching with the suit, so eventually when the man stared in the body height mirror, man was fashionable exq
Head of The Table More than a pub
During the 80s do you know how such businesses were conducted, I mean the illegal banned businesses? Well, they covered it up with a fake business and it paid off because they were untraceable, a normal bakery you smile, suspect nothing, the hot aroma of freshly baked breads, the dinging of ovens as the muffins are brought out all oily and irresistible, clean business but behind those walls was a multimillion drug making business. So for the cops to catch up, they thought like how they did, instead of meeting up at the police station where they advertised themselves in blue uniform as corrupt, fat law enforcers, branding the red alert when they were within hearing. Tailoring, pubs, lodges, all these began springing up with anonymous owners under their names, new beginnings, fresh waitresses and waiters, and the crooks nearby were die hard alcoholics, so they tangled, mingled, blabbered everything not to be spoken of assuming they are desperate people in work overalls desperate to ear
Head of The Table Forgetfulness or murder
Rosewood furnished but with a more strengthened oak embodiment and more equalizing mahogany to bring textile elasticity, at around 11 inches, a chest high shelf with adequate shelving lockers, an additional microphone it’s black cords out of man’s path as it strings down to the mixer and amplifier down the adjacent court clerk’s station. The judge’s bench spacious for flexible and easy movement with an even more comfortable movable armchair, in built panel video for necessary electronic evidence and a green covered book sized notebook on the judge’s table. Adjacently, at a risen level lower from the judge’s bench, opposite from the witnesses stand, some feet from the reporters bench, around 4 to 7 inch tables, with feet high shelves, additional pigeon holes, was the court clerk’s station. Hosting the optional mixer and amplifier, it also housed several electronic equipment including the obvious desktop computer and control console, a black covered bible was in sight used for it’s day
Head of The Table Backfire
What if he did forget? But what if he was murdered? No he forgot, no he was murdered, these mind tormenting disputes wrangled trying to get a favor amongst the jury. So amongst them was an argumentative dispute on the matter of what truly happened to the deceased Mr. Peter, and worse was the war inside them as this too was sparking a revolt, murder or forgetfulness, it is one not both, the voices argued. As the spectators too brewed within their midst, the judge scribbled some notes as he also was seen torn between the two convincing theories so only one way to find out. “Mr. Tim please present more evidence to the jury and to the court to acclaim to the terms of your allegations to the defendant. Because it seems both are possible so if you have witnesses too, please may they step in the witness dock.” The judge retorted steadily as he glared at the attorney addressed who was caught slightly in shock because he wasn’t expecting such a response. But now that he has been given the