05-15-2017, 05:29 AM
[1007 words]
Banning emerges from his rented Honda Civic and takes in the crisp Manitoba May air. It surprised him, the bite of the wind; He supposed at this point he was getting used to it, the warm air in Portland. Even playing through winter across North America, he'd experienced some bitter cold, but then it was universal, a teammate who traveled with you on road trip. Now it was an unwelcome stranger, a nuisance. It was playoff time, you have no providence here, cold!
Yet, it persists, relentless. Not just in the air, but in the sentiments of the fair citizens of his home city.
"You fucking traitor!" a woman spat. It hadn't even been a minute since his feet had hit pavement. A frumpy, chubby brunette, with a Luke Fleming jersey on her back, glared him down as she waited for the bus. Banning laughs, but you can tell, it's uncomfortable. He considers asking her whether she understands how the draft system works, but then stops short upon realizing he would then be justifying a desire to play for the Jets, which would be disingenuous at best, and misleading at worst. Better to leave a sleeping dog lie. I hope that's a bus to Hell, you bitch. Banning throws a quarter to a busker outside Little Pizza Heaven on Osbourne, since it's all he can afford, and reaches for the handle.
The smell of garlic dough eminates through the lobby. Between international duties, league play, and an intense, cost-prohibitive training regiment, the opportunity to indulge in some of Winnipeg's finest pizza is rare. Probably one that his coach would frown upon, but a slice never hurt anyone.
The line is justifiably long, and just filled with disgusting mid-20s hipsters who are still at the front end of a 2009 trend I want to tear your moustache right off your stupid face. What's more, the offerings on the slice rack are motley, to say the least. Shriveled and exhausted, a little whisp of rancidness to it's smell.
Then, triumph! A new pizza emerges from the oven. What's more, it is Pepperoni and Bacon, the LeBron James of pizzas. The final customer in line, a short, comely blond with blueish green eyes, pays for her meal and turns awkwardly into Banning. She apologizes, meekly and awkwardly. Her face conforms to traditional conventions. No time for that. Her skin would make an excellent lampshade. That's worth investigating later.
"I'll have two slices of P&B' he said. You don't sound cool you piece of shit. Why was that one in my fathers voice? The unamused cashier looked up, and smiles broadly. Somehow too much teeth and not enough teeth at the same time. She looks like she knows where to get meth.
Also no time for that.
"Aren't you Colin Banning!?" she exclaimed. At least she was polite about it, he supposed. "I am, thank you very much, I... love.. to being." He trailed off. The word he was looking for to end that sentence never came to him, because it didn't exist. There was no word that made that sentence work. You're so fucking Aspergersy it's ridiculous. Why haven't you killed yourself yet?
"Well, we're so glad you came in, let me get your order for you!" Oh, good, she didn't notice. she noticed. Everyone noticed. burn the girl . She reached in and grabbed Bannings dinner, two large slices, dripping with cheese and golden crusted with salty, tangy garlic. "Any parmesan or chilis with that?' she inquired as she placed the slices on his paper plate. I don't like that she touched it with her hands. "Charmezard" Jesus Christ.
Banning eyed his meal lovingly, and reached for his wallet. "Oh!" she exclaimed, raising her left hand "Please, no. We're so happy you came in, please, it's on the house!" That's suspicious. No one would miss her. "That's is very kind, thank you." holy shit that was a sentance. With that, she grabbed Bannings pizza, his parmesan cheese, his chili flakes, and his napkins, clutched them in her talon like hands, and threw them at the soda fridge next to him. " The restaurant erupts in uproarious laughter as the disgusting scarecrow of a woman danced victoriously behind the counter. Now you don't have to eat the food she touched. A giant brute of a man, tall and overweight, pushed past a still stunned Banning. "The fuck out of my way, retard." this guy gets it.if she ends up in the Assiniboine they will 100% suspect you now.Why haven't you moved yet? you're not getting pizza asshole. Banning stumbles back, his grocery store jacket brushing against the still cooling mess, preventing it from sliding to the ground where, in another timeline, the husky hoser in his faded and stained Evans shirt would have slipped and heaved his hot dinner into the face of the comely blond. Dejected, and hungry, Banning straightens his jacket, raises his head, and walks proudly out the door. stop treating social situations like a movie would that isnt how people do.
Half a block up, just outside the Toad, is a hotdog cart. It'll have to do.death is ever present. After successfully purchasing dinner from a contemptuous 35 year old with greasy hair and hazy eyes who is certainly disapointing his parents just like you fucking throw yourself off a bridge and dodging spittle from passing Jets fans, Banning meanders back to his rental car. Opening the side door, he manually rolls down the window in his economy garbage car, takes a deep breath of that crisp Manitoba air, and daydreams fondly of his home city, Winnipeg. Burning to the ground after his Admirals your admirals fuck you you're the fourth best player at your own position defeat the Jets in the Challenge Cup playoffs. With that, he smiled, adjusted his rear view mirror, and began to follow the husky gentleman home, careful to maintain his distance and follow all traffic regulations. blood. sweet nurturing blood taking life is the pinnacle of power. ill bet you get 3 points tomorrow
Banning emerges from his rented Honda Civic and takes in the crisp Manitoba May air. It surprised him, the bite of the wind; He supposed at this point he was getting used to it, the warm air in Portland. Even playing through winter across North America, he'd experienced some bitter cold, but then it was universal, a teammate who traveled with you on road trip. Now it was an unwelcome stranger, a nuisance. It was playoff time, you have no providence here, cold!
Yet, it persists, relentless. Not just in the air, but in the sentiments of the fair citizens of his home city.
"You fucking traitor!" a woman spat. It hadn't even been a minute since his feet had hit pavement. A frumpy, chubby brunette, with a Luke Fleming jersey on her back, glared him down as she waited for the bus. Banning laughs, but you can tell, it's uncomfortable. He considers asking her whether she understands how the draft system works, but then stops short upon realizing he would then be justifying a desire to play for the Jets, which would be disingenuous at best, and misleading at worst. Better to leave a sleeping dog lie. I hope that's a bus to Hell, you bitch. Banning throws a quarter to a busker outside Little Pizza Heaven on Osbourne, since it's all he can afford, and reaches for the handle.
The smell of garlic dough eminates through the lobby. Between international duties, league play, and an intense, cost-prohibitive training regiment, the opportunity to indulge in some of Winnipeg's finest pizza is rare. Probably one that his coach would frown upon, but a slice never hurt anyone.
The line is justifiably long, and just filled with disgusting mid-20s hipsters who are still at the front end of a 2009 trend I want to tear your moustache right off your stupid face. What's more, the offerings on the slice rack are motley, to say the least. Shriveled and exhausted, a little whisp of rancidness to it's smell.
Then, triumph! A new pizza emerges from the oven. What's more, it is Pepperoni and Bacon, the LeBron James of pizzas. The final customer in line, a short, comely blond with blueish green eyes, pays for her meal and turns awkwardly into Banning. She apologizes, meekly and awkwardly. Her face conforms to traditional conventions. No time for that. Her skin would make an excellent lampshade. That's worth investigating later.
"I'll have two slices of P&B' he said. You don't sound cool you piece of shit. Why was that one in my fathers voice? The unamused cashier looked up, and smiles broadly. Somehow too much teeth and not enough teeth at the same time. She looks like she knows where to get meth.
Also no time for that.
"Aren't you Colin Banning!?" she exclaimed. At least she was polite about it, he supposed. "I am, thank you very much, I... love.. to being." He trailed off. The word he was looking for to end that sentence never came to him, because it didn't exist. There was no word that made that sentence work. You're so fucking Aspergersy it's ridiculous. Why haven't you killed yourself yet?
"Well, we're so glad you came in, let me get your order for you!" Oh, good, she didn't notice. she noticed. Everyone noticed. burn the girl . She reached in and grabbed Bannings dinner, two large slices, dripping with cheese and golden crusted with salty, tangy garlic. "Any parmesan or chilis with that?' she inquired as she placed the slices on his paper plate. I don't like that she touched it with her hands. "Charmezard" Jesus Christ.
Banning eyed his meal lovingly, and reached for his wallet. "Oh!" she exclaimed, raising her left hand "Please, no. We're so happy you came in, please, it's on the house!" That's suspicious. No one would miss her. "That's is very kind, thank you." holy shit that was a sentance. With that, she grabbed Bannings pizza, his parmesan cheese, his chili flakes, and his napkins, clutched them in her talon like hands, and threw them at the soda fridge next to him. " The restaurant erupts in uproarious laughter as the disgusting scarecrow of a woman danced victoriously behind the counter. Now you don't have to eat the food she touched. A giant brute of a man, tall and overweight, pushed past a still stunned Banning. "The fuck out of my way, retard." this guy gets it.if she ends up in the Assiniboine they will 100% suspect you now.Why haven't you moved yet? you're not getting pizza asshole. Banning stumbles back, his grocery store jacket brushing against the still cooling mess, preventing it from sliding to the ground where, in another timeline, the husky hoser in his faded and stained Evans shirt would have slipped and heaved his hot dinner into the face of the comely blond. Dejected, and hungry, Banning straightens his jacket, raises his head, and walks proudly out the door. stop treating social situations like a movie would that isnt how people do.
Half a block up, just outside the Toad, is a hotdog cart. It'll have to do.death is ever present. After successfully purchasing dinner from a contemptuous 35 year old with greasy hair and hazy eyes who is certainly disapointing his parents just like you fucking throw yourself off a bridge and dodging spittle from passing Jets fans, Banning meanders back to his rental car. Opening the side door, he manually rolls down the window in his economy garbage car, takes a deep breath of that crisp Manitoba air, and daydreams fondly of his home city, Winnipeg. Burning to the ground after his Admirals your admirals fuck you you're the fourth best player at your own position defeat the Jets in the Challenge Cup playoffs. With that, he smiled, adjusted his rear view mirror, and began to follow the husky gentleman home, careful to maintain his distance and follow all traffic regulations. blood. sweet nurturing blood taking life is the pinnacle of power. ill bet you get 3 points tomorrow