Monday, September 25, 2006

The Sturges and the Grinsingtons

"Blood feud." Samuel Sturges snarled, placing the butt of a revolver against his brother's hand. "Your heritage compels you."

Young Brent Sturges lowered his head and refused to take the gun. "No brother." He said. "For too long our two families have been the rivers that fed a lake of blood. But it ends now--it ends with me. I shall kill no more Grinsingtons."

Samuel couldn't believe his ears, this was akin to treason. For four generations there had never been a Sturges boy who refused to kill a Grinsington.

"You'll take this gun!" Samuel Sturges bellowed with all the fury of an orphan.

"I won't." Brent Sturges replied with all the humanity of an orphan.

"You will!" Samuel shrieked, with all the rage of an orphan.

"I'm in love with Emily Grinsington." Brent replied, and brought his hands to his heart to prove it.

Brent couldn't have hit his brother harder if he'd had a sledgehammer to swing. Samuel could only make a confused sound of hurt and betrayal as he slowly slumped to the forest floor.

"Ehhhhghh???"

"I'm sorry brother." Brent whispered. "It just sort of happened."

"In love with a..." Samuel could hardly bring himself to form the word. "In love with a stinkin' Grinsington?!"

"Yes brother."

"A Grinsington, for sure? As in the Grinsington Grinsingtons?" Samuel double checked, in case he'd somehow heard his younger brother wrong.

"Yes Samuel, a Grinsington. Emily Grinsington to be precise." Brent took his brother's face in his hands. "Hear me Samuel. She may be the progeny of my father's murderer and his father's father's murderer before that, but I love her just the same, and from hatred our love shall deliver us."

Samuel sat up suddenly and the glint of a lie flashed in his eyes.
"Brent." He hissed. "I just remembered--Emily Grinsington is dead. Yesterday her family beat her to death with a spoon."

"NO!!!" Brent stumbled back, his legs no longer supporting his weight. "It can't be!!!"

"Yes, dear Brent, it's true." Samuel pounced on the opportunity. "Those darn Grinsingtons even kill their own. And Emily died slowly, plinked to death with a spoon."

For Brent the next ten minutes never took place, time passed without his knowledge. His anguish was terrible to behold. His screams scared birds for miles.

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Samuel whispered, wrapping an arm around his hysterical brother.

"EEEarrrrrrggghhhhh!" Brent replied. And two miles away a sparrow crapped itself.

"Yes, kill 'em all, that's what I say." Samuel grinned, returning the pistol to Brent’s hand. "Leave no Grinsington alive, wipe them from the land."

Grief-numb, Brent accepted the gun and stumbled toward the Grinsington farm. He crossed the fields where years before, he and Emily secretly played. He crept along the riverbank where he and Emily had nakedly swum. He passed the willow grove where they'd first consummated their love.

And if these memories stirred him, you wouldn't know it to look in his eyes. He walked as if his gun was a kite and the wind blew toward the Grinsingtons.


***


Okay, time out. We need to talk about happy things for a sec, things like kittens in a meadow, 'cause this story is gonna end brutally and young lovers are gonna die.

Okay, so, kittens in a meadow, kittens in a meadow: Jumpity-prance. Bouncedy-purr. Oh, we can't help but be happy when we watch kittens playing in a meadow.



Alright, back to the Blood Feud, already in progress...


***


...and then both sides gave the order to fire and a thunder of guns ripped the canyon in two. Brent and Emily stumbled as one, their limp limbs tangling as they fell. Their red-froth lips found each other and through spasms of hemorrhage, their love they did tell.

On the Sturges side of the river, Samuel stood with a rifle in his hand.
"You wretched Grinsingtons!!!" He shrieked. "You just killed my brother and his lover!"

"Oh you horrid, horrid Sturgeses." Came a cry from the Grinsington side of the river. "You just killed my daughter and her lover!"

And if either side had half a reason to stop, vengeance swallowed it whole.

The End

12 Comments:

At 2:46 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Way to go with using "swum", many people would not catch that. I like me some good grammar.
Oh, and the writing was pretty too.

 
At 4:04 AM, Blogger Peter said...

Those useless Kittens didn't help much Latigo!

 
At 5:34 AM, Blogger Helga von porno said...

fucking hell! What a story. Good old poor doomed brent. I got a bit confused by the interlude. So Emily was never spooned to death then?

 
At 6:27 AM, Anonymous ATD said...

This reminds me of something I read in 7th grade English. It's name was "Romeo and Juliet". It sucked. Only this gots gunslingers and death-by-spoon, and that makes all the difference.

~ATD

 
At 9:52 AM, Anonymous Strange Forces said...

Ouch. The kittens were a welcome respite, but damned if the outcome was still a downer.

Well done as usual, sir.

 
At 10:36 AM, Anonymous The Macek Collective said...

kicked ass and had intermission

 
At 8:48 PM, Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

<""I won't." Brent Sturges replied with all the humanity of an orphan.

"You will!" Samuel shrieked, with all the rage of an orphan.">


Bravo, Mr Flint. You dazzle, as ever. Written gold, this is.

 
At 10:34 PM, Blogger Cindy-Lou said...

When you write about kittens so quickly after writing the words "blood feud" I can't help but imagine bloody kittens. Bouncy, pouncy, bloody kittens.

 
At 10:40 PM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

How do you kill somebody with a spoon? Did they feed her ice cream sundaes until she croaked?

 
At 6:30 PM, Blogger Amandarama said...

I'm pretty sure that Emily and Brent are both better off in the Great Beyond. There's kittens in the Great Beyond.

 
At 7:22 PM, Blogger Rasmus said...

I can't help but being reminded of something. Can't quite put my finger on it.

This was a wonderful and above all inspiring tale, Latigo.
From now on, all my up close killing will be done by spoon.

 
At 9:53 PM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

Thank you Anonymous. But confidentially, I just paste everything into Microsoft Word and let the little green lines tell me how to, like, make it be wrote grammarly good and stuff.

Sorry Peter, I tried. Damn it man I tried.

No sweet Helga, Emily was not in fact bludgeoned to death with a spoon on the day before a volley of lead cut her and Brent to pieces.
(The glint of a lie flashed in Samuel's eyes, remember?)

I know ATD. Fuckin' Billy S., eternally hogging love and blood feuds. He's a dick.

Thank you Strange Forces. For my next trick I plan to kill myself with sock puppets and a Slinky.

Correct on both counts Macek.

Thanks Sam. That makes it worth it.

You would Cindy-Lou, you savage. "Don't worry kids, those road kittens are just sleeping... on a bed of guts and a coagulated blood pillow."

You hit them in the head with it LBB, over and over until hairline cracks form that be exploited. Kinda like a soft-boiled egg, except that it takes days, and they scream their throat to pieces long before you're through. It's actually not much fun for all involved.

That's just what they tell dying kids Amandarama.

Try it first on something smaller Rasmus before you tackle a human. You may discover it's a most exhausting method of execution.

 

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