I'm enrolled, I suppose. If I'm not too lazy, that is. I can help with writers block, or perhaps give ideas as for the next step in your story.
Excellent, excellent, excellent idea, Cheese! And thank you for your kind intro. This should be great! I'll have to add this to the Hitchhickers Guide. This is progress and I like it!!! =)
Are you scared for the big (okay, more like underweight xD), scary (not really) girl? xD Just kidding Just don't forget to study...
Yes, you may. ASSIGNMENT #1 YOU MUST WRITE A SEGMENT OF A STORY - ONE OF A THIEF ESCAPING FROM A HEIST SCENE. (Add your own ending, idc, but that's the assignment) YOU HAVE ONE HOUR AND A HALF. I WILL ALERT WHEN IT IS FUE.
You know what, even if we're not supposed to, I'm gonna, you can have it removed if it shouldn't be here. Sirens blared loudly through the night. Red and blue lights cut through the darkness as an armada of police cruisers surrounded the bank. A man dressed in black glanced around wildly, one hand tightly gripping a small, black pistol, the other wrapped around a burlap sack he had put the money in. He scrambled away from the doors, and scanned the crowd of hostages who were cowering on the floor in terror. He waved the pistol in their direction, and they cowered away from him. "Don't move!" the man screamed, the panic in his voice betraying his fear to them, "You!" he shrieked, pointing a pistol at a woman in a gray suit on the floor near him, "Stand up! I said stand up!" "P-p-p-please don't hurt me..." the woman whimpered as she got to her feet and stumbled over to him. He lunged forward and grabbed he hair viciously, swinging her around and pointing the gun at her head. He slowly edged over to the door, where he looked outside and saw policemen setting up a perimeter around the building. He kicked open the door, and pulled the woman with him as he slowly advanced through the doorway. "Let me through!", he yelled, his voice hoarse, "Or I kill the hostage!" Instantly, the policemen turned towards him. One of the pulled out a megaphone and pointed it in his direction, "Just calm down and think about what you are doing. You don't want to kill her, you just want to get out of here. How about you let her go and we talk about this?" The thief pressed the fun harder against the woman's head, "Oh no you don't, I'm going to walk out of here with this hostage with me, and you are gonna let me or I'll-" Suddenly, on the building across the street, a light flashed, and the street rang with the sound of a car backfiring. The thief's head suddenly jerked back, and he collapse to the ground. Instantly, policemen rushed forward, pulled the woman to safety, and check the body of the thief for a pulse. He was dead, a single bullet directly between the eyes. Across the street, a man walked out of a building into an alley, and tossed a package wrapped in cloth into a dumpster. The man took a drag of his cigarette, and dropped it to the ground, grinding it out with his heel. He turned, and walked away, back into the black night.
On my way to the U.S. I went over what just happened in the past half hour. 11:00 P.M. At the National Art Museum London, England I just finished my cup of coffee that I take every night during my 3 hour shift guarding the northern side of the museum. I was wearing the regular jeans and long sleeve t-shirt. I turned to see someone approaching me. It was John, he was coming to take over for me. “Hello John.” “Hello Scott, assuming it was just an uneventful night.” “Well it has been so far. But not for long.” “What do you mean by…” Was all he got to say before I hit him as hard as I could in the back of the head with the flashlight I had. He fell limp to the ground. I hit him one more time for good measure; I wasn't going to mess this up. I had been posing as Scott for the past 2 months. I had learned almost everything about the museum, its layout, the position of the other guards, the security system, and the location of all the valuables. It was time to take a quiz to see how much I could remember. Question 1) How do you disable the laser tripwires that block access and movement of the jewelry section? That was obvious; I went over to the security panel to my right and slid my ID card. This granted me walk in perfectly fine, duffel bag in hand. Question 2) What do you need to do open all the glass cases. I went over to yet another security panel, this time in the middle of the room. To grant override access to the cases I would need to enter a 7 digit code. I reached into my pocket and found the piece of paper that just happened to go missing from my boss’s desk earlier that week that just happened to have my code. I entered it slowly, knowing that one mistake would take me to jail, 7-8-4-5-1-2-0. All the glass in the room slid aside, showing me their valuable treasure. Even in the dim light, if you were there you would have seen my smile. I did it, I can take the jewels. I would have shouted in joy right there, but my job wasn’t over. Getting back to work, I then opened my bag and took all the jewelry that would fit. Gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, you name it, I took it. I walked outside, walking so that the stolen goods would not make any noise. I walked down the spiral staircase to my right. Carefully I took a corner just as another guard was going to relieve someone in the other part of the museum. They staggered the movements over time, not just at once so that someone trying to steal something would get caught. Or so they hoped. After he was gone, I went back to the hallway I was taking that was taking me through to the main doors. As I was climbing the 3 steps that would lead me to freedom I heard a voice. “Hey Scott.” It was my boss, plump, red faced, and short. I couldn’t believe he caught me here, now. I was so close! I wanted to scream. But then I realized something, he didn’t mention anything about the theft. Maybe, just maybe, I thought to myself, I can get away with this. “Good evening sir, its 11:20, just leaving to go home from my shift.” He checked his watch. “So it is, have a good night then.” And I walked out the door. It would only be later that John woke up and reported the theft to my boss, who then called the police. They were going to have a search for me thought the city. Well, I’m long gone. I hope they have fun tracking a “Steve Jones” in the U.S.