needtoknow
2008-10-07, 18:14
This is the bigging of my short story. Any tips on making my style suck less?
Thanks for any help in advance. EDIT: I added the rest.
The Hit
By: P****** B.
He woke up with a start, anticipating the day. Groggily he reached for the phone and called his school (250-832-2218), Getting the answering machine he pretended to be sick and excused himself from class for the next couple days. Then he took his wire strippers and electrical tape out of his back pack and stripped the wires leading up to the phone and connected together the two wires which would cause anybody calling or any busy-bodies at the school to get a busy tone. Quickly he undressed and went to the shower and scrubbed him self with a brillo-pad to remove any flakes of dead skin then applied a moisturizer to sooth the rest of any irritated skin. Then using a cream he had made from one part casein to nine hundred parts water he applied so any parts of skin were unlikely to come off. After getting dressed and gelling his hair he completed the rest of his daily hygiene and packed all the tools he would need on the trip into his backpack along with about one thousand dollars from the amount he had been paid. Convinced he was finally ready he headed downstairs and ate a breakfast of cheerios and a glass of milk. Then he took out a pineapple, a knife, a bag and a can of whip cream. He placed the can on the table and placed the bag on top, after pressing the nozzle the gas went into the bag. Then he closed the bag with a twist tie and began to cut a hole into the pine apple. He took the bag breathed it all in causing his body to go into a warm numbness from the gas. He cut small lines on all his digits just enough to puncture the epidermis. Then he placed his fingers into the pineapple and waited for the acid to destroy his fingerprints. It took a whole painful five minutes but eventually the disappeared, “they’ll be back” he mumbled to himself. Washing off his hands he disposed of the can and pineapple and washed the knife and making sure everything was in its proper place. He headed upstairs to his computer and printed off some fake IDs, a drivers license and a student ID to the to the high-def print shop two blocks away from his house with the name Jonathan Eberly, and printed off a fake library receipt with his alias on it. After stopping by the print shop and paying with a tip he left for the closest public bus stop and rode it to the greyhound bus depot.
He went to the bathroom and tucked in his shirt and gave himself a comb over, and headed to the front counter and asked the women at the counter a bought the next bus to Calgary. “Could I get a two-way ticket to Calgary and back?”, “Aren’t you a bit young to be traveling, is someone picking you up?”, “Yes my Grandmother lives in Calgary and she is sick with cancer.” He lied, “Even so its 50$ for a late booking and ill need to see some ID” said the kindly woman. After showing her some ID he got his ticket and waited for 40 minutes for the next bus. After got on he pretended to be asleep, he learned that very few people want to talk to a sleeping person. He kept his hand on his bag the whole trip.
After arriving at the bus depot he went to the washroom and made a quick change to his clothes from his pack, he now was wearing a light t-shirt and faded jeans. It would help avoid getting attention, but that didn’t seem to be too much of an issue on “Grey Hound Way”. He went to the front desk and asked the women at the desk about rental cars, she directed him to an elderly man at the other side of the bus depot. He went to the desk and asked he had to repeat it a few times for the man to hear. The man had seen people of his type before and when Jon mentioned he was looking for a car “light on gas” he got him an economy car. There was a snag, the ID seemed off colour and asked him leave. The older man did not want any trouble and was close to retirement; Jon had accepted the polite refusal and left picking up a bus-route map on the way out. He now had a plan.
Luckily the bus went past “Crowchild Trail NW” witch had a stop “Brentwood” that that was a mere 2 blocks from Capri Ave; A good thing otherwise he would have to walk. He got off at the stop and started his walk up Charleswood Dr NW. The house was expected, it was a nice neighborhood (middle class); Slightly less then would have been expected for a mark of his stature. He walked up to the front of the house and as expected the mark was away when he knocked on the door. Seeing as it was locked he headed around back to see if he could get in; he spied a low bathroom window and that was all he needed. Prying open the window and letting himself in standing in the bathtub. He laid out his tools. Heading over to the door he placed wet strips of touch explosives printed on little strips of paper, when torn they would send a small explosion into the room. He took a plug and stripped the two wires, put his tools back into his back pack and filled the tub. Then he dropped the two exposed wires into the bathtub and placed a electric timer in the wall and set it for one minute and plugged in the cord. Hopped out the window and closed it. In one minute electric charge will go into the bathtub creating hydrogen and oxygen a explosive mixture. He went home victorious.
Now if you should be one to choose this profession, and you succeed enough to retire, you may just be cocky enough to write a story about it.
Thanks for any help in advance. EDIT: I added the rest.
The Hit
By: P****** B.
He woke up with a start, anticipating the day. Groggily he reached for the phone and called his school (250-832-2218), Getting the answering machine he pretended to be sick and excused himself from class for the next couple days. Then he took his wire strippers and electrical tape out of his back pack and stripped the wires leading up to the phone and connected together the two wires which would cause anybody calling or any busy-bodies at the school to get a busy tone. Quickly he undressed and went to the shower and scrubbed him self with a brillo-pad to remove any flakes of dead skin then applied a moisturizer to sooth the rest of any irritated skin. Then using a cream he had made from one part casein to nine hundred parts water he applied so any parts of skin were unlikely to come off. After getting dressed and gelling his hair he completed the rest of his daily hygiene and packed all the tools he would need on the trip into his backpack along with about one thousand dollars from the amount he had been paid. Convinced he was finally ready he headed downstairs and ate a breakfast of cheerios and a glass of milk. Then he took out a pineapple, a knife, a bag and a can of whip cream. He placed the can on the table and placed the bag on top, after pressing the nozzle the gas went into the bag. Then he closed the bag with a twist tie and began to cut a hole into the pine apple. He took the bag breathed it all in causing his body to go into a warm numbness from the gas. He cut small lines on all his digits just enough to puncture the epidermis. Then he placed his fingers into the pineapple and waited for the acid to destroy his fingerprints. It took a whole painful five minutes but eventually the disappeared, “they’ll be back” he mumbled to himself. Washing off his hands he disposed of the can and pineapple and washed the knife and making sure everything was in its proper place. He headed upstairs to his computer and printed off some fake IDs, a drivers license and a student ID to the to the high-def print shop two blocks away from his house with the name Jonathan Eberly, and printed off a fake library receipt with his alias on it. After stopping by the print shop and paying with a tip he left for the closest public bus stop and rode it to the greyhound bus depot.
He went to the bathroom and tucked in his shirt and gave himself a comb over, and headed to the front counter and asked the women at the counter a bought the next bus to Calgary. “Could I get a two-way ticket to Calgary and back?”, “Aren’t you a bit young to be traveling, is someone picking you up?”, “Yes my Grandmother lives in Calgary and she is sick with cancer.” He lied, “Even so its 50$ for a late booking and ill need to see some ID” said the kindly woman. After showing her some ID he got his ticket and waited for 40 minutes for the next bus. After got on he pretended to be asleep, he learned that very few people want to talk to a sleeping person. He kept his hand on his bag the whole trip.
After arriving at the bus depot he went to the washroom and made a quick change to his clothes from his pack, he now was wearing a light t-shirt and faded jeans. It would help avoid getting attention, but that didn’t seem to be too much of an issue on “Grey Hound Way”. He went to the front desk and asked the women at the desk about rental cars, she directed him to an elderly man at the other side of the bus depot. He went to the desk and asked he had to repeat it a few times for the man to hear. The man had seen people of his type before and when Jon mentioned he was looking for a car “light on gas” he got him an economy car. There was a snag, the ID seemed off colour and asked him leave. The older man did not want any trouble and was close to retirement; Jon had accepted the polite refusal and left picking up a bus-route map on the way out. He now had a plan.
Luckily the bus went past “Crowchild Trail NW” witch had a stop “Brentwood” that that was a mere 2 blocks from Capri Ave; A good thing otherwise he would have to walk. He got off at the stop and started his walk up Charleswood Dr NW. The house was expected, it was a nice neighborhood (middle class); Slightly less then would have been expected for a mark of his stature. He walked up to the front of the house and as expected the mark was away when he knocked on the door. Seeing as it was locked he headed around back to see if he could get in; he spied a low bathroom window and that was all he needed. Prying open the window and letting himself in standing in the bathtub. He laid out his tools. Heading over to the door he placed wet strips of touch explosives printed on little strips of paper, when torn they would send a small explosion into the room. He took a plug and stripped the two wires, put his tools back into his back pack and filled the tub. Then he dropped the two exposed wires into the bathtub and placed a electric timer in the wall and set it for one minute and plugged in the cord. Hopped out the window and closed it. In one minute electric charge will go into the bathtub creating hydrogen and oxygen a explosive mixture. He went home victorious.
Now if you should be one to choose this profession, and you succeed enough to retire, you may just be cocky enough to write a story about it.