《The Half Interesting Life of A Blood Angel.》Side story?
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Hey guys Its Sobek. Basically Etez was in the middle of writing chapter 8 or whatever it was and he has exams so he cant write. I was bored and just happened to have this thing I wrote about a daydream my brother had. This literally has nothing to do with the main story,but here ya go.
RING RING RING
The sound of a phone rang through the dark room.
RING RING CCHRR
A hand reached from under the crumpled covers of a bed and lifted the phone off of its pedestal.
The figure wiped his eyes and yawned.
“Hello this is chris.”
“Sir we have a problem.”
Chris’s facial expression hardened and he scrunched his eye brows before lifting up a notepad and pencil which had seemingly appeared from thin air.
“What is it.”
“Sir we don’t know it just… stopped working all of a sudden we dont even know what happened. One moment we were about to put it up and then we noticed that it wasnt working.
Chris scribbled some quick notes onto his note pad and snapped it shut. He held the phone between his shoulder and his neck while he got out of bed.
“Ok I’ll be right over, don’t panic.
“O-okay please come quick I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”
Chris placed the phone back onto the answering machine with a CRCH sound.
He walked over to his closet, opened it and grabbed a suit and a brief case. He unlocked the case just to make sure all of his trusty tools were present. With a quick nod of affirmation he snapped the case closed and put on his work suit. He straightened his tie in front of a mirror and then hustled out of the door.
It was still dark out and chris was tired but he knew he had to go to work, his job may just save millions of people. He jogged up his short driveway to his car, a 2014 mini cooper hybrid and opened the door. He started up his energy efficient engine, turned on the Disney radio station. And speed down the highway, going almost 30 MPH as to not get into an accident.
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SCCERRRCCHHH
Finally he had reached his destination.a few police cars blocked the streets as to not let anyone get onto the scene of the accident.
Chris placed a pair of tinted glasses on and stepped out of his car looking like a total boss. He slowly walked towards the side of the road.
A man who he recognized as the one who called him for help was talking to a police officer. When he noticed chris his expression changed to one of expectancy. He ran towards chris and turned in the direction of the problem.
“What do you think? Can you fix it?”
Chris looked at the scene unfolding in front of him and sighed. He took off his glasses and sat on the ground in a meditative position. His inner mind reached out and found his problem.
A large advertising sign lay face up on the ground a crane was next to it and several burly men were cowering in fear behind it.
Chris’s eyes shot open. A
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” He shouted.
He grabbed the small mans collar with his hands and shook him.
“There is a major problem with this billboard, HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!??”
The man infront of him started to tear up.
“Were sorry we just.. Couldn’t figure out what was wrong with it.”
Chris reached down and grabbed his briefcase which was resting against his leg and clicked open the two latches. He opened it and grabbed his trusty tool, a cracked red crayon.
“The problem with this sign is that there is nothing written on it. ITS ALL BLANK!”
The other man's eyes shot wide open.
“My god… How could this happen.”
Chris walked forward and stepped towards the blank billboard.
“I can solve this problem.”
He crouched down and wrote the words OUT OF ORDER on its blank surface.
All of the workers and policemen waited in anticipation.
Chris slowly stood up and turned around.
“I have done it.”
All of the men cheered and chris walked back to his car.
“Thank you Chris what would we ever do without you.”
“Don’t thank me thank the entire bill board support department.”
Chris closed his window and slowly speed back down the highway in his mini cooper.
Chris always new that he was destined for greatness. He is the.. Bill board support man.
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