The "Write" Stories - Episode #1

[Inside the TWG headquarters Natasha is filing her nails, while across from her DOS is working on the computer]

“Tash, can you put away the flask, the stench stings the nostrils” says DOS

“I’m painting my nails. Turn your fan on; it’ll blow the smell away from you. I mean, you have no problem turning your fan on and pointing it MY WAY when you fart.” says Natasha.

“HA! HA! Touché’” says DOS

[Grip enters the room]

“Yo! Yo! Yo! Any of you seen my gun? I’ve checked everywhere and I just can’t find it.” says Grip.

Scratching his head in confusion, DOS turns around and says, “Grip, isn’t it somewhat of an oxymoron that your name is Grip, yet, you seem to have lost your gun?” 

“Look nerd, if you want to get technical, I can show you EXACTLY why they call me Grip.” says Grip angrily.

“Okay, okay, [chuckling] I wasn’t saying, I was just saying. Ha!” says DOS.

“Grip, honey, I think I saw Jimmy with it downstairs. He was going to work on it and add something for you. So, umm…yeah, just go down.” says, Natasha.

“Hey now! You’re straight to the point, no dinner, movie - nothing. HA! HA!” says Grip.

“HA! Cute, Grip real cute.  You know, that’s not the first time I laughed at a Johnson and if we're talking about you Grip, I’m certain it won’t be the last.” says Natasha with a smirk on her face.

[Laughing hysterically]  

"Son of a bitch, not again!  I think I just pee’d my pants.” says DOS.

[Meanwhile, downstairs Jimmy Kicks is working on Grip Johnson’s gun, while talking to Husky Downs who is throwing tennis balls against the wall as his Huskies, Sasha, and Khloe chase after them.]

“You know Jimmy, I know you’ve got the whole military background and all, but looking at you, you don’t strike me as that type.” says Husky Downs.

“There! Got it! I finally finished adding this accelerometer to Grip’s gun for line, sight, movement, and auto detection. Oh, I’m sorry Husk, umm…you don’t see me as the type huh? Well, you figure, I’ve always been really good with my hands and with ideas so, I guess I would go out on a limb and say there really isn’t a type for that. At least, I don’t think so.” says Jimmy Kicks.

“I know bro; I may just be talking out my ass…as usual. Ha! Either way, you got skills; I’m glad you’re here and not still over there.” says Husky Downs.

[The sound of Grip Johnson walking down the metal stairs echoes through the laboratory.]

“Uh-oh, sounds like SOMEONE is coming for their gun.” says Husky Downs.

“Watch this Husk!” says Jimmie Kicks as he picks up the gun, takes off the safety lock and points it in the direction of the stairway, just before Grip gets to the bottom of the stairs and enters the laboratory.

“Okay Jimmy, where the hell is my…[Jimmy Kicks pulls the trigger sending a metallic football through the air at about 100mph in Grip’s direction]…what the?!?” says Grip as the football goes through a nearby painting on the wall.

Angrily Grip says, “Dude, that’s not a fucking toy! You could have killed someone asshole!”

“Relax Mr. Sensitive, I didn’t hit you did I? If I wanted to, you know I would have. [Jimmy Chuckles] Besides, you act like it would hurt you anyways. How do you and your brother say in Spanish, “Gordo?” Is that right? HA!” Says Jimmy Kicks.

[Grip walks by Husky Downs as he nears Jimmy Kicks and his gun. He, glances at Husky Downs, says “What’s up” and then proceeds to grab his gun]

“So…[long pause as Grip slowly examines his gun]…what did you do to it?” says Grip.

“Your scope is now improved and will automatically lock onto your target for you with enhanced speed per shot. How about them apples ‘eh?” says Jimmy brushing his shoulders off with an arrogant smirk.

“Cool. Thanks.” Says Grip in a low baritone voice.

“And there you have it folks, the man of many words. Ha!” says Jimmy.

[Husky Downs chuckles, looks down at his cell phone and sees a text from Chub Johnson.  It reads “I came to the bank to deposit a check for Myra, but I left it in my office. Can you bring it please?”] 

Myra and Chub have been together for 5 years and when he’s not working on the magazine, or hanging out at the office with the rest of The Write Guyz, Chub is at home doing the marriage thing.

[Husky Downs whistles in the direction of his dogs, he gets up, grabs his video game controllers, and swiftly throws them around his neck. Sasha and Khloe obediently stand at his side, tongues out, and tennis balls in each of their mouth’s waiting for him to move.]

 “I’m outro. Gotta help out the Chubster.” says Husky Downs.

“Well, hold up, I’ll roll with you.” says Jimmy. “Grip, if you have any issues with it let me know. Sorry I took it without your permission, but you shouldn’t be leaving it lying around like that in the first place. Ha! See ya!”

[Husky Downs and Jimmy Kicks exit the “TWG” garage in a black utility truck, 20 inch alloy rims and plates that read, “TWG4ME”.  Husky Downs is driving, while Jimmy Kicks rolls down the window and sticks his head out.

“Damn I love this City!” says Jimmy Kicks.

 The sun is beginning to set and the two of them are now going over the bridge which connects Industrial Gorge and Blog City.]

The “TWG” building, which serves as the headquarters for The Write Guyz and their magazine company, is in Blog City; however, it sits on the other side of the Harbor and across the Roddington Bridge, on a small island.  Industrial Gorge is what the people of Blog City know this island as, while those who actually work on the island call it “The Ink Blot”.   On the island there is a small market, laundry mat, a couple fast food restaurants and a soap manufacturing plant.  While there is a small park, it’s nothing to write home about; however, on sunny days, you will see Husky Downs walking his dogs as well as some of the factory workers eating lunch on the park benches.  The scenic view is actually quiet beautiful, as the benches are facing Blog City.  On a clear day, one could see the sun light bouncing off the water and onto the high rise buildings; while the sun at dusk sets between the “Mystery Magazine” towers.  The locals find it breathtaking. 

Due to the recent increase in crime in Blog City, the residents of Industrial Gorge go home when they leave work, which is unfortunate as the view from the park at night, it’s been said, is spectacular.  The architecture in Blog City is unique as “Mr. E”, CEO for Mystery Magazine, along with The Write Guyz and their generous financial contributions, single handedly hired the top architects from around the world to re-build the city 10 years ago.  To be noted is the fact that while coming together for one common cause, both magazines are competitors in Blog City.  One thing is apparent to the people of Blog City, Mr. E’s disdain for The Write Guyz and their publication.  Each magazine has their own niche’; however, recent polls have shown that the people prefer The Write Guyz  and their magazine, over Mystery Magazine.  Where Mystery Magazine focuses on business, politics and overall, the upper class individual; The Write Guyz  focus is on that which the every day, middle-class to lower-class person can relate to. They do not discriminate, nor do they seclude anyone.  If it’s a good read, they will write it and publish it.  Essentially, they are what the people of Blog City call – “an everyday folk’s magazine”. 

[Chub Johnson is sitting in a waiting area in the bank playing with his cell phone; suddenly, an explosion is heard throughout the bank. People are running out the door, ducking for cover, women and children are screaming and crying. Not phased by this, Chub leans forward and curiously, he looks in the direction of the cloud of smoke, which draws near from the back of the bank towards the front.  A woman on the floor holding her child tight looks at Chub with a concerned look on her face]

“Sir, get down!” says the woman frantically. “What if it’s someone trying to rob the bank?”

“Ma-am, with all due respect, I wish a mutha’ would.” says Chub Johnson with confidence and swagger.

It would appear as though Chub would get his wish; emerging from the cloud of smoke walking towards Chub was…

Stay tuned!