NationStates Jolt Archive

The Red Clover; 315 Maple Lane
Owensboro, Gran Cienaga; January 4, 2005

(OOC: I know the writing needs a little work but tell me what you think.)

The sun was barely visible in the horizon as the teal ’64 Chevy Impala pulled into the driveway. Thomas Rooker, no older than twenty-one at the latest, slowly opened the door and swiveled in the car seat so that he stayed seated although both legs hung out the vehicle. His light tan skin matched well with his handsome facial features, but the two most remarkable things about him were his jet-black eyes. His attire was the second most noticeable thing about him; his dress shirt, shoes and pants were all a stunning shade of white, offset only by his unbuttoned gray vest.

The young man leaned back against his car and looked at his new storefront proudly, The Red Clover. Smiling discreetly and nodded with pride at the lower floor window, he noted how he had hand-painted the red and green script himself, taking great care with each character to make it just right. Thomas could not admire his handiwork for long though as the blinding orange light of the rising sun obstructed his vision. He strolled up through the porch, opened the unlocked door slowly and made his way to the new store. He had set up the business in his renovated kitchen since he could not afford to rent a building but it had worked well since there would be no long commute home from work now.

After taking his place behind the counter, Rooker slowly gazed at the abundance of items stocked on the shelves. Resting his chin on a balled-up fist, he used his other hand to configure the scale on his right. It was one of those old-fashioned scales that was most likely made over a century ago but considering his paltry funds at the moment he was not in any position to complain. Suddenly he heard the front door open and watched as his first customer sauntered over to the counter. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, the man looked at the newspaper clipping framed on the wall behind the counter. The title was enough: President Sterling Announces the Narcotics Decriminalization Act!

“Hey, let me get four ounces of cocaine and some paper to go with it.”

Rooker did not even blink as the man made the request, he simply smiled as he complied with the man’s order.

(OOC: Bump, would like to see some opinions)

(OOC: Ok, I'll tg some of my freinds to see if they want in, and is that two besides me and you, or two including me and some one else?)

(OOC: Thanks a lot, it's two besides me and you, there's another person who may get involved and after five people I think it might get a little complicated)

OOC: Okay, count me in. I'll replace this with an in character post in a moment. By the way, could I be a Gran Cienaga citizen for this RP?

OOC: Okay, count me in. I'll replace this with an in character post in a moment. By the way, could I be a Gran Cienaga citizen for this RP?

(OOC: Sure thing, I was hoping everyone would RP as citizens anyway since my nation is rather isolationist anyway, we don't have much contact with other nations aside from embassies in the capital)

OOC: Heh, I'm having touble coming up with a business that could even interact with yours, since you're in a residential area.

(OOC: Well if you're doing a small business we'll say I live about two blocks away from the commercial area. You can place your business there if you want?)

OOC: Gotcha. Let the official posting begin (I hope).

Charlie Davis hummed to himself as he dressed. A blue collar shirt, khaki slacks, and his favorite leather jacket were his choice in attire for the day. After eating a light breakfast of toast and jam, he walked outside and locked his front door. His red PT Cruiser was waiting for him in the driveway, his neighbor Jim, was getting the paper, and that damn dog was barking as usual. But something was different – Maybe it was the house down the street with, “The Red Clover” on the front window.

“What an odd choice of décor.” He chuckled to himself as he crawled into his car and backed out of the driveway. Not too much later, he arrived at his workplace. The front shop window displayed a variety of goods, and was emblazoned with the words, “General Store”

Charlie put his life and soul and into this small store, which was the product of years of hard work and good marketing. It had paid off – He got a plethora of customers every day that chose to buy his cheap goods rather than the ones at the supermarket down the road.

His best customer, the first in the store every day, wasn’t there that morning. Something odd was up, and Charlie was determined to find out.


OOC: Where's the best customer? I think we all know.

Ray Wallis had lived in Owensboro for his whole life and had frequented Charlie Davis' General Store since he passed by it one fateful morning as he was walking his dog. Ever since then he had made the effort to be the first customer in every morning to ensure he got the best supplies. Every morning he would walk into the store wearing a white shirt with a pair of black overalls, his unkempt hair curling wildly in every direction. But not today. His friend had told him about a new store opening up close to home and decided to see what it contained.

As he looked around The Red Clover he had realized just what it was built for. Ever since Congress had passed the Narcotics Decriminalization Act, new stores were slowly but surely popping up across the nation to get a piece of the lucrative drug market. Rooker's Red Clover was the first of its kind in Owensboro and although it was primarily a narcotics dispensary it did have the potential to overtake the local general store as it sold newspapers, cigars and alcohol as well.

Rooker handed over the goods and smiled cheerfully as Wallis handed him the money. He could hardly wait to tape up the store's first earned dollar in the window. Promptly thanking him for his services, Wallis lazily walked out the door into the humid morning air.

After years of frequenting the General Store, he knew the route there by heart and seemed unaware of his surroundings as he ambled over there to pick up some food on his way to work. Once he walked in through the door, however, he knew something was amiss, especially since Davis looked at him suspiciously when he reached the counter.

"Hey buddy, what's the matter?"

((OOC: Hmmm... I migh have a go with one of my International Mercs. Most likely Kami, since Laura's Trapped in the Artic (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=390443)... Would that be cool? I would know a reason Kami would be here. Drugs are highly illegal in Gnufasur. So, she goes to buy her stuffs from somewhere else. Oh, umh... My nation is made up of catpeople. Would this be okay? Yay/nay? If not, I'll delete this post and be gone.))

Michael Renalds for the past six years had been a nobody, even within the 'family' but no more, when he learned of the new law he planned to take full advantage of it. He had his buissness, and buissness was now booming.

He had been arrested a few times for possesion, but was a first rate dealer, supplier, and producer, of some of the worlds strongest narcotics. He loved his job and loved the life it gave him. That was all before it went do the drain, the 'family' abbandoned him, ever since the 'Bakery Insident', an acceident he vowed never to repeat.

His factory was quant a run down restaurant, he suped up with some 'left over' equipment he 'bought' from a freind.

"Yo, boss, we got customers."

Charlie was inspecting a bag of chips with disgust when Ray walked in. It was hiding behind a soda machine when he found it this morning. Hearing the door open, he say Ray and began to speak quietly.

"Where were you this morning? Your coffee got cold and I had to dump it, same with your donut. I thought something happened to you." he then cheerfully turned arouned and handed him a donut from a box on the counter and handed it to him.

(OOC: Hope no one minds me assigning addresses to the places, I just like doing it for whatever reason)

Charlie Davis' General Store; 1586 Skylark Road
Owensboro, Gran Cienaga; January 4, 2005

Ray gratefully accepted the donut, smacking his lips as he stared at it. He had skipped breakfast this morning to see the new store and any food was welcome. Taking a big chunk out of it with his teeth he addressed Charlie hesitantly; he loved to talk but he hated to do it with his mouth full. After a long pause he finally spoke.

"Thanks for the d'nut. You know there's a new store opened up jus' a few blocks downways?" He gestured with his free hand as if Charlie would actually know where Rooker's store was. "I mean I knew people would take advantage of the new act but boy this guy acted fast. He's got a lotta stuff over there I tell ya."

Ray pulled out the paper bag emblazoned with the Red Clover's logo and placed it on the counter before spilling out the contents; four ounce bags of cocaine and a copy of the Owensboro Post. Resting one elbow on the counter he turned his head towards Charlie as his body faced the door.

"So how 'bout that coffee?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Michael Renalds' Restaurant; 603 Caiman Avenue
Owensboro, Gran Cienaga; January 4, 2005

Mark was your typical high school senior; lazy, unmotivated and consistently hungry. Usually he would pick up a Pop Tart on the way out the door but today he had something different on his agenda.

He took a seat at his favorite booth; even though he wasn't a regular the waitresses there knew him well enough. It wasn't long before one came over to serve him.

"Hey fella, what'll you have today?"

"Eh, the usual. Stack o' pancakes with extra butter and syrup and some OJ, por favor." Pulling out a small wad of money afterwards he added "And you know, some...white sugar." And we all know what that means.

The waitress in her her miniskirt, tight top, and short leggings was a sight to bear, and could make any man roll over an beg, but when she answered the young man she answered in her sweet little southern accent that made her even more desireable, "Right away darlin, and you know that sugar will rot your mind, you best learn to control your sweet tooth darlin." She then took the money and walked into the 'kitchen' and came out a few minutes later with his order and a small white paper bag.

"You know how much it'll be, sweety, and don't forget my tip eder, or else I won't be so nice next time, baby." She then began to chuckle at her statement, and placed the items before him and took the money and tip. She then quickly inserted the tip between her firm full breats, and walked off.

Watching longingly as she walked off Mark slowly ate his pancakes, savoring his syrupy breakfast. He kept his bag of "sugar" close in sight since it was the only thing that would get him through his Physics I class. Watching the people pass by as he ate his pancakes he didn't even notice the man reading the Tallmadge Journal a few booths down.

The man noticed Mark, however. He noticed the little transaction and called over a waitress.

"'Scuse me, miss. Can I see your manager?" He pulled out his wallet and flashed his shield. "And don't play stupid with me either."

The cheerful sound in her voice faded "Right a, sir." As she left, a young man exited the back office brandishing papers, "Yes, sir, how may I help you today? I'm Michael Renalds, the owner." Michael seemed utterly calm about the incident.

Motioning his head towards the seat, the cop watched as Renalds sat across from him. He flashed his shield once more before speaking.

"Howdy, my name is Alex Taylor. See, I wasn't aware that the Decriminalization Act allowed for the sale of cocaine for minors. Did you read that anywhere? I didn't."

He paused and took a sip of his coffee.

"Now I could go by the books and arrest your ass for this. I could. But I'm a flexible guy and I can make these laws flexible, too. How 'bout this, you go back there and, er, 'raid the pantry' for me, we'll pretend this incident never happened. My wife is baking a cake so she'll need a few bags of sugar for tonight."

Leaning back, he folded his hands across his chest and waited for Renalds' response.

If there was anything Renalds hated more then 'clean' cops, it was dirty cops. Renalds brought his right hand up and snapped his fingers, and with his left he brought a digital tape recorder. Responding to his masters call, a large bulky man walked out of the kitchen with a particulary large bag of 'sugar', then renalds replied, "The 'cook', and the recorder are saftey measures, should you want any more 'sugar' you'll pay like everbody else, but seeing as you are an 'honorable' man, I might give you an 'employee' discount, that is if you want it. Now that buisness is over and you complimented the 'cook', I must say, don't use all the sugar in one cake, it's too 'sweet', just a warning for you."
Renalds then stood up and handed the man a buisness card, "And who might you be?" Renalds then motioned for his name.

OOC: Skylark road is the most awesome name. Ever.

Charlie grinned and walked over to a new coffee machine sitting on a table next to the wall. "I got it this morning," Charlie said before Ray could ask about it "Makes coffee faster than greased lightning."

As he reached for the cup and coffee pot, he remembered the Red Clover. "Say, what does that Red Clover place sell anyway?" he asked as he poured the dark liquid into the mug.

Michael Renalds' Restaurant; 603 Caiman Avenue
Owensboro, Gran Cienaga; January 4, 2005

Taylor held the business card in one hand in one hand.

"Pleasure doin' business with you, Michael Renalds."

He nodded in his direction and walked towards the door. On his way out he snatched Mark's little baggie from the seat and wagged his finger at him.

"You're a real stupid kid, you know that?"

Without uttering another word he was out the door.

The Red Clover; 315 Maple Lane
Owensboro, Gran Cienaga; January 4, 2005

Taylor's black '63 Ford Thunderbird pulled up in Rooker's driveway silently, almost gliding over the gravel. One toot on the horn was Rooker's signal to meet him outside. Only a minute later, Rooker rushed out through the door and over to the car window. Taylor slowly stepped out and gave his friend a quick hug and a pat on the back before getting to business.

"So Tom, how's the first day of business goin'?"

"Can't complain, business's been slow but steady. I'm hopin it'll pick up later this evenin' though. What brings you over in this neck o' the woods?"

"You're gonna love this. Trust me."

Without another word, he popped open the trunk and displayed the precious white cargo he had stowed away. Looking over in his friend's direction he saw Tom's mouth agape, staring bewilderedly at the bounty.

"How the…but…what the hell?"

"Consider it an opening day gift from me to you?"

He chuckled. "Damn…where'd you get this from?"

"Let's just say a certain owner of the restaurant on Caiman Street decided, out of the kindness of his heart, to make a little donation this morning."

"So you stole it?"

Alex only shrugged at the remark. Picking up the bags, Rooker looked over at his friend and smirked. "What he don't know won't kill him."

Thanking his friend once more, he walked back into the store as Taylor drove off down the road.

Ray laughed heartily as he tapped his fingers against the counter awaiting the coffee. "I'm sure lightning never tasted so sweet." Yawning and stretching, he finally got around to replying to his friend.

"Yeah, so this Red Clover, it's a narcotics distributor. They got cocaine, heroin, opium, morphine, everything. I mean they just went the whole nine yards at this place, it's great. They also got cigars and three different newspapers. I've never seen that many papers in my life!"

Charlie looked at him like he was insane. "Narcotics? Drugs? Those are allowed n- One second!" He dashed off into the back storage room and looked at a stack of papers that arrived earlier, each stated that such things were legal.

"The world has gone topsy turvy." he said quietly as he stared at the papers.

He stared at the back room incredulously, his eyes wide open. Raising his hands up in the aire in surrender he called out to Charlie.

"Where've you been? Congress just approved it the other day? I would've thought you'd have capitalized on sich a great business opportunity by now!" He remained silent for a moment before realinzing Charlie left the coffee on a shelf behind the counter that he couldn't reach.

"Hey Charlie? I can't reach the coffee!"

Charlie snapped out of his daze and looked back. "Whoa, sorry mate, I'll get that for you." He sighed as he dashed behind the counter and retrieved the coffee.

"You could've just walked behind the counter." he said, rolling his eyes as he passed him the coffee.

As Michael sat in his leather chair the large man who he called 'cook' walked into his office, "So are we tracking the 'stolen sugar'?" The man answered, "Yes, boss, dirty cops are so stupid, by sundown will know where their base is, and by sunup, we will have 'liquified' our compotetions assests and made a good profit. Too bad they took more than expected." Michael answered, "Don't worry it's the low quality shit they stole, not the 'sugar', but make them pay either way, got that? We can't let our compotetion push us around," Michael then began to laugh aloud and swiveled his chair around, "Hey Marco, just like the 'old days' huh? Too bad I ain't got a white cat or this would be a classic scene, no?" Marco answered, "Yeah, burning down the compotetion and liquifing their assests, and yeah if you had a white cat you'd be a sight to see." Marco then left on buissness, "Yeah, old freind just like the old days, but for one fact, now I'm in charge, not them." he then began to tap his fingers on the arms of his chair.

(OOC: Draconis, TG me so we can figure out a way to attack Rooker and Taylor)

Charlie Davis' General Store; 1586 Skylark Road
Owensboro, Gran Cienaga; January 4, 2005

"I didn't wanna go behind the counter!" He exclaimed as he reached for the coffee. "You know my problem with open cahs registers, my hands can't control themselves!"

Ray sipped the coffee slowly, looking around the store once more. "So what'd you rush back there for?"