"Make violence a choice and no-" you never have a choice..

O'Malley

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But they keep trying to poke the dumplings into my armpit.

Worst is when they try to steal your peach.

I think that was Benedict Cumbersnatch... or was it Banderbatch? Now I'm confused. :D

Yes, I thought Buka was talking about that Benevolent Climberstache guy, since he knows a lot of rich and frumious people.
 

Steve

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Huh? Could someone help me start this story at the beginning? I’m a tad bit confused by this post.
"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the house-tops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."
 

Steve

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"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the house-tops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."
Sorry, @Wing Woo Gar , is this too random? You asked for the beginning of a story...

wait... nevermind. You wanted the beginning of THIS story. Boy, am I embarrassed. :)

for what it's worth, here's the beginning of another great story. This is a Mike Hammer book by Mickey Spillane:

"They found me in the gutter. The night was the only thing I had left and not much of it at that. I heard the car stop, the doors open and shut and two voices talking. A pair of arms jerked me to my feet and held me there. "Drunk," the cop said. The other one turned me around into the light. "He don't smell bad. That cut on his head didn't come from a fall either." "Mugged?" "Maybe." I didn't give a damn which way they called it. They were both wrong anyhow. Two hours ago I was drunk. Not now. Two hours ago I was a roaring lion. Then the bottle sailed across the room. No lion left now. Now was a time when I wasn't anything. Nothing was left inside except the feeling a ship must have when it's torpedoed, sinks and hits bottom.“
 

Wing Woo Gar

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"It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the house-tops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness."
Nice!
 

Wing Woo Gar

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Sorry, @Wing Woo Gar , is this too random? You asked for the beginning of a story...

wait... nevermind. You wanted the beginning of THIS story. Boy, am I embarrassed. :)

for what it's worth, here's the beginning of another great story. This is a Mike Hammer book by Mickey Spillane:

"They found me in the gutter. The night was the only thing I had left and not much of it at that. I heard the car stop, the doors open and shut and two voices talking. A pair of arms jerked me to my feet and held me there. "Drunk," the cop said. The other one turned me around into the light. "He don't smell bad. That cut on his head didn't come from a fall either." "Mugged?" "Maybe." I didn't give a damn which way they called it. They were both wrong anyhow. Two hours ago I was drunk. Not now. Two hours ago I was a roaring lion. Then the bottle sailed across the room. No lion left now. Now was a time when I wasn't anything. Nothing was left inside except the feeling a ship must have when it's torpedoed, sinks and hits bottom.“
Thank you!
 

Steve

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Death dumplings, I got a kick out of that.
I don't hate my colon. Sure we don't talk much, but that's on him. He's an...well, you know.
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