rupert "miles" glass (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} clowning) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} bellumlogs,@ 2010-07-23 17:09:00 |
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What: Sometime during the night, Miles, and two people who will not be named (but the identity of which through logic might be inferred easily.) were in the process of, well, stealing, and now they're done and seek carbonation.
Where: Mainly, the hallways.
When: Very, very late.
... but were they all so desperate? Miles, and his two cunning, thieving cohorts, as well their misdeeds, and their shrewdness within the incapability to feel honest, true remorse? Do men and women rightly require remorse, or is it instilled by a society afraid of competition or pranks? Miles would say that stealing, in the right circumstances and especially regarding money, was actually quite hilarious. If somebody possessed a large sum of money with which they do not even occupy 1/4th of their mind-powers to, say, creating scenarios with precisely how to spend it, or how to better their fellow man... what use have they for it?
BEEP!
Door number one: None!
The ease with which he mostly achieved his ends, or got others theirs, was still inconceivable. It was his belief that he was merely skillful, and that luck had hardly anything to do with it. The three, he and his two cohorts--the handsome devil of a fellow and the doll-like girl with the light hair--decided that they were through getting by on peanuts and good intentions. Quite literally they got by on mostly peanuts. Honey roasted to be precise. And although the shows made money, sure, and so did the rest of their little hustling businesses, it was not enough. It was never enough. They were sick of sandwiches and wanted steaks. They wanted champagne on a bee budget. The doll-like girl wanted new dresses, and the handsome one wanted new cologne. Miles wanted more books, more things, more anything. They all were in agreement: they wanted more shit, and the only solution was to steal a great deal of money.
The only mark which did not leave his money in the banks for fear that the 'bank would steal his riches' was a one Doc Gregarious, so named for his intense devotion to the world of good and plenty, and known well for his oversight with his finances. He owned a smaller show that ran its course seasonally, and for the rest of the year he pilfered the public illegally and in ingenious ways they wish they knew of. The trio had monitored his handle of the currencies he owned and it seemed to them that he barely cared for the money's welfare or staying. In fact, it seemed as if he were just BEGGING for a bit of it to be stolen. Praying for some of it to be taken off of his filthy rich hands. Flailing, brandishing, dancing on his pile of money, gettin' jiggy with it, electric sliding over it, time warping on it, watching people watch him dance on it with diamond binoculars.
His prayers were answered tonight; it was not the bank trying to steal his riches.
And they had no idea how much they'd even stolen. It was all a snowy-flurry scene of laughing maniacally, stuffing money into pillow cases, painted faces, and pounding hearts. Doc Gregarious kept his money in a room--A ROOM--of all places, and they'd gotten into his house by the beach as easily as K-Fed became a millionaire sperm donor.
The doll-like girl ran up the stairs of Bellum expertly and unseen.
The handsome devil took the elevator and having been forewarned of its often leading to the wrong floor (in fact, this is what they hoped happened.) knew to check the numbers on the doors, and then to take the stairs.
Miles, was to play it cool, check his mail, lug the big thing over his back like a late Santa Claus, and pretend as casually as possible, that he had not just won the lottery. His grin of course, was deceiving him, as he stepped away from collecting his mail and ventured down a hallway. The others had reached his apartment before him.
After a thrilling game of ro-sham-bo once he'd entered his apartment, it was decided that Miles would be the one to leave and get some diet dr pepper, caffeine free. After all the stealing everyone wanted some carbonation.
And so, bagless but still the smile the bag left lingering, he made his way down the hall and was now descending the stairs. Were those the faint footsteps of someone else in front of him ... ?