Thin Layers

A small girl and her mother walked into a small bland room with three jet blue chairs, shaped like boulders and a single window high on a wall. Peculiarly, although it was such an uninteresting and uninspiring room in general, there were a few thin markings around the room which stood out to the young child.

With some seconds examining these scratches, they seemed to glow with a myriad of sparks flying out of them. The miniature lights flew out away back to the wall after they jumped, as if the girl had blew a never-ending gust at a dandelion.

In a blink she found her mother gently pushing her back in the direction of one of the rocks considered a ‘chair’. The girl motivated and forced herself to pull the gaze away from the strange lines, to her mother and then to the source of a small grunt. It belonged to a stout man with eyebrows like obese caterpillars and an astoundingly scrawny nose.

So I was thinking… what if Epic Rap Battles of History pit Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop against Annie Oakley from Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show?

Spike Spiegel:

By the way it looks, it’s time to blow this scene / before I take another look at this female gunslinging Charlie Sheen.
I’ve already faced a cowgirl with no girt who got hurt / so I’ll wreck you easy, and with even less of an effort.
I’m a smooth criminal so I have to ask ‘Annie are you okay?’ / because your history never went further than an asinine screenplay.
Girlie, as I shoot a little sure shot through your brain / you’ll see how your skills won’t be ever the same.

Annie Oakley:

Oh boy, anything you could do I could do better / with that vest and that hair you could be my lonely scruffy butler.
Don’t worry that you’ll be losing to a kickass missus / if anything I’ll be sure to make your defeat a lil less vicious.
I’m an activist icon with accuracy you wouldn’t believe / and unlike you I didn’t make my little doggy leave.
I’m a clever little girl and I wowed the British papers / you found your woman’s blood hurled, too bad you couldn’t save her.

Character Observation

Earlier today, I saw Samuel Hobbes’ narrowly rimmed glasses fogged next to the steam that arose from the newly poured milk in the mug. Plopping the cup down onto the counter, he quickly cleaned his third and fourth eyes with his flannel shirt, then going back to finishing the macchiato. Samuel’s toned arms, with a myriad of vague minimalistic tattoos, worked with utmost speed and precision as a line of customers waited near the café entry.

He was deeply focused on making coffee, on occasions greeting recipients he was familiar with, such as the women who worked in marketing, often seeming tense and on the edge of collapse despite it only being the morning. They would often tell interesting but in-cohesive plans about how they would structure events and pamphlets of different sizes. Often times Samuel would seem to oppose some of their directions (despite not getting them completely), with small grimaces but nevertheless he kept a grin like any employee should if they wanted to receive a good tip.

On this night, with his olive eyes focused on my own, I would give half my life’s earnings so I could encourage him to grin towards me every single day.