SHANNON & COVERGIRL MEET
Shannon had learned a very important fact. It wasn't that he had known this since forever, or that anyone had imparted such incredible knowledge onto his head -- if he was being honest, he had just stumbled onto the truth.
He also had no intention of sharing it. Not everyone was as smart as him, and the wrong person finding out would ruin the game all together.
And the truth was -- that rich people were really stupid.
They all lived together in these giant, looming apartment blocks, their rooms garishly decorated with expensive, tasteless trinkets, swarms of servants and butlers and maids cleaning up after every move they make, private tutors and assistants and a million other minions running around their feet like starving puppies begging for scraps. It was disgusting, and repulsive, and as he stood at the base of the stairs and stared upwards, absently scratching his ass, Shannon also decided it was vaguely unfair that he spent every night under a metaphorical bridge when they had more than they could ever spend in a lifetime.
They also, for all their security systems and armoured trucks and armed guards, had a habit of leaving their screen doors open.
Not that he was one to sit around and mope about the unfairness of life, and so -- predictably, perhaps -- he set out to change the state of the world, starting with his own life.
Because the real secret was, that rich people didn't care about each other. Which meant -- and this was important to mull over, as he lightly scrambled up the fire escape, making a lot of effort to be quiet but not a whole lot to keep to the shadows -- that if you didn't make a lot of noise, or look overly suspicious, there weren't going to be a whole lot of people peering out windows looking for intruders to their little gated compound. Oh, sure, there'd be a shit ton of cops strolling around afterwards, but he wasn't the type to stand and gloat. The loot would be long traded away by the time they caught up to him.
But by any rate, it was safer to pick the doors that didn't have light shining through them. Rich people rarely had the presence of mind to leave their lights on when they went out, and it was too early for any of them to be in bed. There was a remarkable selection of parties celebrating various things, and no self respecting rich person would be caught dead missing them.
Tonight, the pickings were especially good. Even eliminating the rooms that housed small children and their frazzled nannies, there were two full rows of dark windows, most of them directly next to each other.
The only fair way to choose was "eeny meeny miney moe." Which he did, frowning in concentration as he paused halfway up the side of the building, silently mouthing the words as he went through the rhyme. Half way through he got bored and just pointed at the nearest window.
"That one," he declared, to himself, just to make the decision official. No one cared. Even he wasn't too interested, but minor details needed to be worked out for the sake of continuity.
The door, he diiscovered upon nimbly scuttling across the balcony, wasn't as open as he thought it was. But the window next to it was, and he hadn't eaten for a few days, so it didn't require too much grunting and muttering before he could slip through and land in an untidy heap on the floor. There was always an instant just after entry when he considered that this was a Bad Idea and froze, waiting for someone to hear, but -- as always -- there was nothing but the dull buzz in his ears that he always got when there was too much silence. But it passed, just like the other times, and he waited a few more seconds to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, then clambered to his feet and tiptoed to the nearest set of drawers.
He didn't need to tip toe, but it was fun, so. Whatever.
As a general rule, the important things were kept under the womens underwear, just because no one would ever think of looking in such a personal place. This time, there was nothing, despite the abundance of panties. His frustration grew with every silken piece of lingerie that he had to touch, never finding anything more interesting than what could only be a novelty sized thong. By the end of the third drawer -- and whoever this broad was, she was fat as shit and apparently never got dressed, and wasn't that just the mental image he needed -- Shannon had given up on being subtle and settled for just flinging underwear over his shoulder, uncaring of where they landed.
One particularly hard toss got him a noise in return -- a sort of half assed fart -- and he froze, narrowing his eyes as he looked over his shoulder. Sure, the gloom made it hard to tell, but he was fairly positive there was no one else in the room. Just some weird looking furniture and some creepy looking shadows. Satisfied, he gave up on the underwear drawer and started rooting around on top of the dresser for the jewelery supply. There was always jewelery. Even the men had ridiculous amounts of the shit, and it always sold good.
He spent a good five minutes searching for the stash before coming to the obvious conclusion. This room belonged to a whale sized skank who never left, never got dressed, didn't own a single bra, and thought jewelery was for losers. There was nothing of value, or use, to be found.
He felt mildly cheated, and muttered so under his breath. He could have sworn there was an amused laugh from somewhere, but unless he turned on the light -- and that would just cause complications -- there was no way to be sure he was alone. Sufficiently creeped out, Shannon decided to cut his losses and try somewhere else. Small favours, but there was nothing between him and the window he had crawled in by except a vast expanse of empty, clear carpet.
On the other hand, in the far corner, was an innocent looking wooden chest. A very large, very innocent looking chest. His eyes all but lit up with money signs as he hummed at his good fortune and strolled casually over to it, hands in his pockets and acting like he belonged there. Just for the benefit of whatever pervert was getting off on watching him scramble around in the dark.
Two steps away and he lost his calm resolve, giving in and just bolting forward. The truck wasn't even locked and the lid bounced loudly off the wall, but by this point, Shannon really just wanted out. Feather boas, more lingerie, a couple of wigs ... all these were tossed over his shoulder to land on the bed. He paused for a second to inspect a sheet of red silk -- which may or may not have been some sort of clothing -- and heard it.
Very quietly, just behind him. Sort of a cough.
He spun on his ass, blinked hard, and clapped his hands together to swat the firefly hovering an inch away from his face. Turned out, it wasn't an inch away, it wasn't a firefly, and the lights were clapper activated.
He stared.
Covergirl stared back.
He stared harder, thinking he should be more creeped out than he was at the fact he was staring at a giant ass whose face was often plastered over the park bench he slept on.
She stared back, blinking in the sudden light, and narrowed her eyes. Shannon felt his stomach drop. Survival instinct kicked in at the point he realized that a giant fucking talking ass had been watching him. From the shadows. For at least twenty minutes.
"Miss Covergirl ! I'm so glad I found you !" He leaped to his feet, clasping his hands and nodding enthusiastically, orange afro bobbing up and down in a mocking manner. He remembered to smile then, and forced one onto his face. Covergirl took a step back and trilled in horror. He laughed awkwardly, looking away and shuffling innocently towards the window. "I was told to come in and look for you, but I guess I got a little lost !!"
She looked unimpressed and made another noise. Shannon stopped smiling, and scowled.
"Well wouldn't you trawl through my clothes if our positions were reversed and I was the famous superstar ? ?"
It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, considering the circumstances. Which was to say, Shannon wanted to steal her valuables, and was trying to make her believe he was just a super enthusiastic fan. She made another noise, this time taking a step foward. He narrowed his eyes warningly.
"Of course I'm a bloody assistant ! What else would I be -- some hobo off the street ?"
Covergirl did not take kindly to his tone. Rather the engage further in such immaturity she trilled loudly and blew a raspberry in his face, dismissing the entire situation. By the time Shannon had finished yelling and trying to cover his eyes at the sight of the emerging tongue, he was just in time to be greeted with Covergirls other side.
He went silent, stared, and stared down at his own pants. It was, quite possibly, the first time he had ever been faced with a dick half the size of an elephant, and he wasn't entirely sure how to react. Then he noticed her nearing the phone. The smart move would be to dive out the window and run -- it's not like anyone could understand her, right, so he wasn't in any danger.
Instead, he did the exact opposite. Because he'd finally seen something worth selling.
"Wait, miss ! If you dob me in, I'll lose this job !!!" He tried his best to sound pleading, and totally sincere. She paused and turned back to face him, making a sound like a wet fart. He tried to hide his disgust, all the while inching towards the dresser. "Give me a chance to prove myself, please !!"
The wallet. So close. So very very close ...
Covergirl made a sudden move, and he froze. He watched as she slid her gaze up and down him critically, making displeased noises and wrinkling her eyebrows in disapproval. He felt like a rat in a maze, or bacteria under a microscope, and it didn't really make things better than even when she was looking at him, all he could see was the gigantic size of her dick. He shuddered.
Her eyes narrowed again. Whatever she barked, it was an obvious command, and it was directed at the wallet, rather than him.
Shannon realized he had no idea what she wanted. He took a stab at it.
"Sure, sure ! I'll go get you an iced tea !!" He went to snatch the wallet, and froze again at the growl. It was unnerving to watch Covergirl growl. Her tongue fluttered just outside the hole for a second, disappeared back in, and he wasn't sure if he should be aroused or throw up on the carpet. He settled for laughing uncertainly. "Of course not -- only kidding !! Obviously a cocktail !!"
Covergirl seemed slightly less displeased. She was also completely bored, so she turned and stomped off into the bathroom, unashamed of her dangling manparts.
Shannon stared in disbelief and tried to figure out what had just happened. Then he peeked inside the wallet. There was a lot more cash in there than there really had any right to be. Glancing around awkwardly he decided that he was screwed anyway, and left through the door. The only person to notice his exit was the valet, who shot him an amused leer and made a lewd gesture. Shannon punched him in the face and carried on.
Around the next corner and he dumped the wallet, pocketing the cash as he continued his stroll, whistling happily.
The important fact that he had learned, stumbled upon quite accidentally to be honest, was that rich people were really really stupid.
He also had no intention of sharing it. Not everyone was as smart as him, and the wrong person finding out would ruin the game all together.
And the truth was -- that rich people were really stupid.
They all lived together in these giant, looming apartment blocks, their rooms garishly decorated with expensive, tasteless trinkets, swarms of servants and butlers and maids cleaning up after every move they make, private tutors and assistants and a million other minions running around their feet like starving puppies begging for scraps. It was disgusting, and repulsive, and as he stood at the base of the stairs and stared upwards, absently scratching his ass, Shannon also decided it was vaguely unfair that he spent every night under a metaphorical bridge when they had more than they could ever spend in a lifetime.
They also, for all their security systems and armoured trucks and armed guards, had a habit of leaving their screen doors open.
Not that he was one to sit around and mope about the unfairness of life, and so -- predictably, perhaps -- he set out to change the state of the world, starting with his own life.
Because the real secret was, that rich people didn't care about each other. Which meant -- and this was important to mull over, as he lightly scrambled up the fire escape, making a lot of effort to be quiet but not a whole lot to keep to the shadows -- that if you didn't make a lot of noise, or look overly suspicious, there weren't going to be a whole lot of people peering out windows looking for intruders to their little gated compound. Oh, sure, there'd be a shit ton of cops strolling around afterwards, but he wasn't the type to stand and gloat. The loot would be long traded away by the time they caught up to him.
But by any rate, it was safer to pick the doors that didn't have light shining through them. Rich people rarely had the presence of mind to leave their lights on when they went out, and it was too early for any of them to be in bed. There was a remarkable selection of parties celebrating various things, and no self respecting rich person would be caught dead missing them.
Tonight, the pickings were especially good. Even eliminating the rooms that housed small children and their frazzled nannies, there were two full rows of dark windows, most of them directly next to each other.
The only fair way to choose was "eeny meeny miney moe." Which he did, frowning in concentration as he paused halfway up the side of the building, silently mouthing the words as he went through the rhyme. Half way through he got bored and just pointed at the nearest window.
"That one," he declared, to himself, just to make the decision official. No one cared. Even he wasn't too interested, but minor details needed to be worked out for the sake of continuity.
The door, he diiscovered upon nimbly scuttling across the balcony, wasn't as open as he thought it was. But the window next to it was, and he hadn't eaten for a few days, so it didn't require too much grunting and muttering before he could slip through and land in an untidy heap on the floor. There was always an instant just after entry when he considered that this was a Bad Idea and froze, waiting for someone to hear, but -- as always -- there was nothing but the dull buzz in his ears that he always got when there was too much silence. But it passed, just like the other times, and he waited a few more seconds to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, then clambered to his feet and tiptoed to the nearest set of drawers.
He didn't need to tip toe, but it was fun, so. Whatever.
As a general rule, the important things were kept under the womens underwear, just because no one would ever think of looking in such a personal place. This time, there was nothing, despite the abundance of panties. His frustration grew with every silken piece of lingerie that he had to touch, never finding anything more interesting than what could only be a novelty sized thong. By the end of the third drawer -- and whoever this broad was, she was fat as shit and apparently never got dressed, and wasn't that just the mental image he needed -- Shannon had given up on being subtle and settled for just flinging underwear over his shoulder, uncaring of where they landed.
One particularly hard toss got him a noise in return -- a sort of half assed fart -- and he froze, narrowing his eyes as he looked over his shoulder. Sure, the gloom made it hard to tell, but he was fairly positive there was no one else in the room. Just some weird looking furniture and some creepy looking shadows. Satisfied, he gave up on the underwear drawer and started rooting around on top of the dresser for the jewelery supply. There was always jewelery. Even the men had ridiculous amounts of the shit, and it always sold good.
He spent a good five minutes searching for the stash before coming to the obvious conclusion. This room belonged to a whale sized skank who never left, never got dressed, didn't own a single bra, and thought jewelery was for losers. There was nothing of value, or use, to be found.
He felt mildly cheated, and muttered so under his breath. He could have sworn there was an amused laugh from somewhere, but unless he turned on the light -- and that would just cause complications -- there was no way to be sure he was alone. Sufficiently creeped out, Shannon decided to cut his losses and try somewhere else. Small favours, but there was nothing between him and the window he had crawled in by except a vast expanse of empty, clear carpet.
On the other hand, in the far corner, was an innocent looking wooden chest. A very large, very innocent looking chest. His eyes all but lit up with money signs as he hummed at his good fortune and strolled casually over to it, hands in his pockets and acting like he belonged there. Just for the benefit of whatever pervert was getting off on watching him scramble around in the dark.
Two steps away and he lost his calm resolve, giving in and just bolting forward. The truck wasn't even locked and the lid bounced loudly off the wall, but by this point, Shannon really just wanted out. Feather boas, more lingerie, a couple of wigs ... all these were tossed over his shoulder to land on the bed. He paused for a second to inspect a sheet of red silk -- which may or may not have been some sort of clothing -- and heard it.
Very quietly, just behind him. Sort of a cough.
He spun on his ass, blinked hard, and clapped his hands together to swat the firefly hovering an inch away from his face. Turned out, it wasn't an inch away, it wasn't a firefly, and the lights were clapper activated.
He stared.
Covergirl stared back.
He stared harder, thinking he should be more creeped out than he was at the fact he was staring at a giant ass whose face was often plastered over the park bench he slept on.
She stared back, blinking in the sudden light, and narrowed her eyes. Shannon felt his stomach drop. Survival instinct kicked in at the point he realized that a giant fucking talking ass had been watching him. From the shadows. For at least twenty minutes.
"Miss Covergirl ! I'm so glad I found you !" He leaped to his feet, clasping his hands and nodding enthusiastically, orange afro bobbing up and down in a mocking manner. He remembered to smile then, and forced one onto his face. Covergirl took a step back and trilled in horror. He laughed awkwardly, looking away and shuffling innocently towards the window. "I was told to come in and look for you, but I guess I got a little lost !!"
She looked unimpressed and made another noise. Shannon stopped smiling, and scowled.
"Well wouldn't you trawl through my clothes if our positions were reversed and I was the famous superstar ? ?"
It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, considering the circumstances. Which was to say, Shannon wanted to steal her valuables, and was trying to make her believe he was just a super enthusiastic fan. She made another noise, this time taking a step foward. He narrowed his eyes warningly.
"Of course I'm a bloody assistant ! What else would I be -- some hobo off the street ?"
Covergirl did not take kindly to his tone. Rather the engage further in such immaturity she trilled loudly and blew a raspberry in his face, dismissing the entire situation. By the time Shannon had finished yelling and trying to cover his eyes at the sight of the emerging tongue, he was just in time to be greeted with Covergirls other side.
He went silent, stared, and stared down at his own pants. It was, quite possibly, the first time he had ever been faced with a dick half the size of an elephant, and he wasn't entirely sure how to react. Then he noticed her nearing the phone. The smart move would be to dive out the window and run -- it's not like anyone could understand her, right, so he wasn't in any danger.
Instead, he did the exact opposite. Because he'd finally seen something worth selling.
"Wait, miss ! If you dob me in, I'll lose this job !!!" He tried his best to sound pleading, and totally sincere. She paused and turned back to face him, making a sound like a wet fart. He tried to hide his disgust, all the while inching towards the dresser. "Give me a chance to prove myself, please !!"
The wallet. So close. So very very close ...
Covergirl made a sudden move, and he froze. He watched as she slid her gaze up and down him critically, making displeased noises and wrinkling her eyebrows in disapproval. He felt like a rat in a maze, or bacteria under a microscope, and it didn't really make things better than even when she was looking at him, all he could see was the gigantic size of her dick. He shuddered.
Her eyes narrowed again. Whatever she barked, it was an obvious command, and it was directed at the wallet, rather than him.
Shannon realized he had no idea what she wanted. He took a stab at it.
"Sure, sure ! I'll go get you an iced tea !!" He went to snatch the wallet, and froze again at the growl. It was unnerving to watch Covergirl growl. Her tongue fluttered just outside the hole for a second, disappeared back in, and he wasn't sure if he should be aroused or throw up on the carpet. He settled for laughing uncertainly. "Of course not -- only kidding !! Obviously a cocktail !!"
Covergirl seemed slightly less displeased. She was also completely bored, so she turned and stomped off into the bathroom, unashamed of her dangling manparts.
Shannon stared in disbelief and tried to figure out what had just happened. Then he peeked inside the wallet. There was a lot more cash in there than there really had any right to be. Glancing around awkwardly he decided that he was screwed anyway, and left through the door. The only person to notice his exit was the valet, who shot him an amused leer and made a lewd gesture. Shannon punched him in the face and carried on.
Around the next corner and he dumped the wallet, pocketing the cash as he continued his stroll, whistling happily.
The important fact that he had learned, stumbled upon quite accidentally to be honest, was that rich people were really really stupid.