Peyton Westlake
the Dark Avenger
- Joined
- Nov 17, 2004
- Messages
- 3,235
- Reaction score
- 135
- Points
- 73
The Untalented Mr. Riley
Setting : Brookside Drive
It was well past midnight and the time he spent reminiscing with his dear old friend Johnny Walker has reached its zenith . Clad in his dark, extremely tight leotards, hot pink head band and lime green leg warmers, he sashayed around on his front lawn while singing Memory by Andrew Lloyd Webber at the top of his lungs. His untrained motion and apparent lack of skill at dance, butchered the blades of grass unlucky enough to be plodded on by his massive hooves. His voice shredded the notes of the song just like a wood chipper does to the helpless branches it grinds up.
I decided to throw on my robe, and head downstairs to sit on my porch. I wanted to fully enjoy this spectacle that only the denizens of Brookside Drive were lucky enough to witness. My neighbor Tony, crept out of his bed and joined me on my porch to marvel at the performance before us.
"Peyton, how long you figure he's been at it tonite?"
"If I had to guess...started around 8 pm when he got home from shopping. I heard the records go on around 10 pm or so. Had a feeling this was coming."
Tony just rubbed the back of his head and breathed deeply watching the lunatic pirouette under the moonlight.
"You think someone is gonna call again Peyton?"
"I'm sure we're getting to that point very soon Tony."
We both burst out in laughter.
Yet this night, much like every night his dear old friend Johnny Walker whispered gently in his ear , he thought he floated on air and sang like an angel. He also gave himself his own standing ovation and a loud chorus of bravos. He was very loud and we both knew exactly what that meant. Soon an irate neighbor would be upset they were shaken out of their sleep & call the police. The real fun has not yet even begun. His encore was about to begin with him getting pepper sprayed and dragged into the radio car. If we were lucky enough, maybe even one of the rookies would whip out the taser gun and have him dance a little longer. Just another holiday weekend on Brookside Drive.
It was well past midnight and the time he spent reminiscing with his dear old friend Johnny Walker has reached its zenith . Clad in his dark, extremely tight leotards, hot pink head band and lime green leg warmers, he sashayed around on his front lawn while singing Memory by Andrew Lloyd Webber at the top of his lungs. His untrained motion and apparent lack of skill at dance, butchered the blades of grass unlucky enough to be plodded on by his massive hooves. His voice shredded the notes of the song just like a wood chipper does to the helpless branches it grinds up.
I decided to throw on my robe, and head downstairs to sit on my porch. I wanted to fully enjoy this spectacle that only the denizens of Brookside Drive were lucky enough to witness. My neighbor Tony, crept out of his bed and joined me on my porch to marvel at the performance before us.
"Peyton, how long you figure he's been at it tonite?"
"If I had to guess...started around 8 pm when he got home from shopping. I heard the records go on around 10 pm or so. Had a feeling this was coming."
Tony just rubbed the back of his head and breathed deeply watching the lunatic pirouette under the moonlight.
"You think someone is gonna call again Peyton?"
"I'm sure we're getting to that point very soon Tony."
We both burst out in laughter.
Yet this night, much like every night his dear old friend Johnny Walker whispered gently in his ear , he thought he floated on air and sang like an angel. He also gave himself his own standing ovation and a loud chorus of bravos. He was very loud and we both knew exactly what that meant. Soon an irate neighbor would be upset they were shaken out of their sleep & call the police. The real fun has not yet even begun. His encore was about to begin with him getting pepper sprayed and dragged into the radio car. If we were lucky enough, maybe even one of the rookies would whip out the taser gun and have him dance a little longer. Just another holiday weekend on Brookside Drive.
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