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koritsimouTitle: Taxi
Characters: Brendon, Spencer
Wordcount: 215
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I don’t know and I declare this 100% fictional.
Notes: Random wee short from the prompt “Taxi”. Thanks to skoosiepants@lj for picking a number for me, thus picking me a prompt. Prompt table borrowed from 100_prompts@lj
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“Come on, come on, come on,” Brendon urges as he pushes the yellow cab to its limit, weaving the vehicle deftly through lampposts and pedestrians. “Nearly there,” he says reassuringly, as much to his car as to his passenger.
The once well-kept old taxi is careering downhill, large clouds of black smoke streaming from the flapping hood. Brendon knows the car doesn’t have long left, but if he takes it any slower not only will his fare have a chance to flee, but the sirens that follow his every turn will catch him up. The completely unfair sirens, Brendon thinks. He only hit one old lady and it was an accident.
“Shit!” Brendon cries, as he smashes straight into a minivan he didn’t see just pull out of a side street.
Brendon’s fare is gone before the cab stops spinning.
“You’re awful at taxi missions,” Spencer says, grin fixed on his face, as a Vice City cop pulls Brendon’s on-screen character from the battered taxi and the game declares him “Busted”.
“Still better than you,” Brendon challenges.
Spencer raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He holds out an open hand and Brendon drops the controller into it, with a flourish. Brendon relaxes into the sofa cushions, smiling as Spencer starts trawling for a taxi.
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Today is not the same as every day
Characters: Brendon, Spencer
Wordcount: 215
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own, I don’t know and I declare this 100% fictional.
Notes: Random wee short from the prompt “Taxi”. Thanks to skoosiepants@lj for picking a number for me, thus picking me a prompt. Prompt table borrowed from 100_prompts@lj
-----
“Come on, come on, come on,” Brendon urges as he pushes the yellow cab to its limit, weaving the vehicle deftly through lampposts and pedestrians. “Nearly there,” he says reassuringly, as much to his car as to his passenger.
The once well-kept old taxi is careering downhill, large clouds of black smoke streaming from the flapping hood. Brendon knows the car doesn’t have long left, but if he takes it any slower not only will his fare have a chance to flee, but the sirens that follow his every turn will catch him up. The completely unfair sirens, Brendon thinks. He only hit one old lady and it was an accident.
“Shit!” Brendon cries, as he smashes straight into a minivan he didn’t see just pull out of a side street.
Brendon’s fare is gone before the cab stops spinning.
“You’re awful at taxi missions,” Spencer says, grin fixed on his face, as a Vice City cop pulls Brendon’s on-screen character from the battered taxi and the game declares him “Busted”.
“Still better than you,” Brendon challenges.
Spencer raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. He holds out an open hand and Brendon drops the controller into it, with a flourish. Brendon relaxes into the sofa cushions, smiling as Spencer starts trawling for a taxi.
-----
Today is not the same as every day