Tuesday's With Mr. Oldman by Hattable!

7:08 AM Sarah 1 Comments

Hey Scribblets! Today is Tuesday which means we feature a work submitted by one of you ^_^ Awesome right? Well today we feature the YWSer, Hattable and his short story, Mr. Oldman! 


Mr. Oldman
by Hattable

 “Sir, might I ask what in heaven's name you're doing?” The shopkeeper stared, bewildered, at the unusual man who had just entered his little shop, climbed atop the first checkout lane's conveyor belt, and was currently strolling along it. 

“No.” the man replied through his large scruffy mustache, keeping stride and twitching his nose. His hands were gloved in leather, the left of which tightly clutched a gold-tipped walking stick. Around the man's torso was a sharp-looking tweed suit and brown trousers hugged his legs, ending with brown dress shoes at his feet. If one were to glance above his fuzzy silver eyebrows and up to his head, they'd find a neat brown fedora sitting in a mess of curly gray hair.

“Sir, I'm afraid you can't do that here,” the shopkeeper replied, bemused. The man froze, sticking his cane between the sensors at the end of the conveyor belt, causing its continuous rolling to come to a halt. 

“Oh?” he questioned, turning his owlish eyes upon the shopkeeper and blinking slowly from behind his big round spectacles. “Would the next lane be more appropriate, then?” he asked, pointing his cane at the lane to his left. The conveyor belt continued rolling and the man began his walking again.
“N-no, sir. No no no, you can't be walking on any of these conveyor belts.” the shopkeeper stated, fumbling with his own glasses as he readjusted them on his ears. His hands quickly wandered down to his shiny nameplate, which they also adjusted before returning to their limp state at the shopkeeper's sides. 

The man raised an eyebrow and stepped between the sensors, freezing the belt once again.
“And why not?” he asked.

“B-because, sir. It's against the rules,” the shopkeeper explained.
“What rules?”

“The shop rules, sir.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I'd quite like to see these rules for myself,” the man said. “Do they happen to lie within a book? Are they in your head?” He raised his cane and poked at the shopkeeper's mop of curly auburn hair. The shopkeeper stepped back in an attempt to avoid the stick, but found himself with it tangled in his hair. He sighed and set his hands to work on getting it out.

“Sir, that's quite enough,” he said. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

“What? How come?” the man asked, pulling his cane away harshly, ripping it from its hairy trap. The shopkeeper rubbed his head, giving the man and irritated glare.

“Because, sir, you're disregarding store rules. And if you touch me with your cane again I'll be forced to call the authorities.” Reaching up to grab hold of the man's arm, the shopkeeper attempted to lower him from the conveyor belt.

“Call the authorities?” the man exclaimed. “Bah! What, you can't take a poke to the head?” He waved his cane around, swinging it by the shopkeeper's head several times.

“Sir, please get down from the counter.”

“I won't be told what to do in my town!” the man swung his cane once more, this time catching the shopkeeper full in the face and knocking him to the floor. “I won't!”

* * *

“Please, officer, I can explain,” the man pleaded as the plump, bearded police officer handcuffed him and lead him to the black and white car outside. The shopkeeper watched from inside, through the glass doors, as the man was tossed into the back seat. 

“There'll be enough time for explainin' downtown, sir,” the police officer responded, slamming the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat. As the vehicle pulled away from the front of the store and across the parking lot, heading down the avenue beyond, the shopkeeper held a pack of ice to his nose and sighed. They really needed to up the security at the nursing home.
THE END

 Awesome story right? Silly old people walking on conveyor belts! What's the craziest thing your grandparent has done (or any older person you know)? Comment below! 

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 See ya Thursday!

~SarChi

1 comments:

Astorian Tales Part 1

7:45 AM Unknown 2 Comments

Hey guys! Welcomes to the first full week of Scribbles returning! First of tons to come, right? ;) As we've said, Monday's will feature a serial (a story posted chapter by chapter, once a week) and unlike the old Scribbles, this time you the readers get to vote on the outcome of the story. Each week! So if you like dragons, fantasy, magic, assassins, ship battles, and more, sit back, grab a cup of coffee, or tea, or just your imagination, and let's get this going!




- - - - - 

-->
 Week 1

The sleek black craft glided on the tumultuous waves, tossed to and fro, but never plunging beneath the writhing waters. The rain slapped against the ink black sails and mast of the boat. Though not visible through the thrashing water, wind, and rain, the cliffs of Dalen rose starkly to the heavens, somewhere up ahead. The boat’s captain fought against the wheel, keeping a steady, oblique course towards the shore, as his crew scurried about, keeping ropes tied and sails taut.
Below deck, amid the heaving and rolling, a man tied a waterproof bundle. He had stripped down to his trousers. He pulled the cinch tight on his equipment, strapped it to his back with a leather belt, then headed to the deck, steadying himself with his arms. The freezing rain stung his bare torso. He grimaced and made his way to the captain. The intensity of the storm cut communication to the bare minimum and so the man simply pointed in the direction where he knew the cliffs lay. The captain nodded.
Now, as the cliffs came into view as dark silhouettes with no distinguishable shape, the man carefully made his way to the edge of the boat and grasped the railing. The captain waved his hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, the man propelled himself over the edge of the boat. His body plunged beneath the ice-cold water, then he pushed himself to the surface, gasping and spluttering at the dramatic change of temperature. Then, once he found the cliffs in the hazy sky, he began to swim toward them with broad, powerful strokes.
The waves dragged him back and forth, helping his endeavor one moment, undoing it the next. At last, he came within view of a small beach, protected by jagged sea rocks. An undercurrent swept him below and he fought to regain the surface. He swallowed water as he went down, and came back up coughing and choking. The waves tossed him towards the razor-sharp rocks, but he managed to grab ahold of one. The sea tugged at his feet every which way, but he held on, grunting in exertion. Then, as a particular wave crashed inland, he used the momentum to pull himself atop the rock.
For several minutes the man laid on his back, regaining his breath. When he pushed himself up he surveyed what route he might take to get to the beach. The waves thundered against the sea rocks for another hundred feet before splaying out into a small pool that lapped at the sand.  Now he had a choice. He could both hop from rock to rock, and hope to make it to shore without getting knocked back into the frigid sea, or he could wait till dawn, which by his calculations would be no more than two hours, by which time the storm should have subsided. 


- - - - - 

Now comes the most exciting part of today! 
As the reader it is now your chance to choose which route the man takes. Either:
A.) Quickly hop from rock to rock, or
B.) Wait until dawn and carefully make his way to the beach  
Let us know in the comments below!



Thank you so much for reading today's edition of Scribbles! Be sure to subscribe either by Facebook - Click me!, Instagram - Click Me Too!, Twitter - #ClickME, YWS - la la l- oh. MEEE!!, and/or Bloglovin - ME! ME! , to stay in touch with us and see what's coming every day!
See you tomorrow


~SarChi


2 comments:

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