The Island of Rose
04-03-2006, 21:59
Rose City
Hello Ladies, Gentlemen, and those inbetween (because we have some she-men in the audience don't we?). Remember me? The Narrator? No probably not. Lazy funks. Anyway, we're going to take a departure. Normally I would tell the story of an important person (because Heads of State are important) or of someone semi-important. But no. Not this time. We're gonna follow the adventures (because life is an adventure, I think) of several Rosians. That, and the Author can only write about the same thing over and over and over and over and over... and over... err, sorry. So let's go to the first story. The story of a man living in the inner city, aka the Hood*, Ghetto, that place where rich people avoid, etc. The story of a Latin man named Javier Hernandez III, and the things that happen around him. And now, let the story begin... woosh.
*I don't actually live in the Hood, any inaccuracies of the Hood cannot be blamed on the Author.
"Bah!" Javier exclaimed. "Another day of work..."
The Hood was darker then most of the city, but that's because they couldn't afford to buy sunlight. It was grey, because they couldn't afford paint. The streets were full of cars, Honda Civics really. The only rich thing in the ghetto, who cares if you can't afford food. At least you have a sweet whip to drive around in, right ladies? Eh! Reggaeton and hip hop failed the air. The alleys are filled with prostitures, the corners are filled with people debating if 3Pac was better then Largie and vice-versa (we'll get to that later), ah yes. The Hood!
And what was Javier's job exactly?
He was a barber. So he was pretty well paid. Alot of people want to look sexy you know, I mean if you count have a virtual Caesar as haircut sexy but err... I'm not here to judge now am I? No, of course not. I'm here to tell a story. Hey, here's a segue on how Javier looks like:
Javier was 5'10, a bit short. He was not pale but he wasn't what you call a bronze god either. He had his little fade and tape like most of the Hoodlums, and well, there you are. But now he had to go to work in his car, a '73 Mustang. It's a handme down Mustang, he can't actually afford one... yeah. He then decided to turn the radio on.
ZzzzZZzz "Yo this is DJ Sexy Man Juarez on Power 96, Imma play a track that's been gettin' lots play. It's Too Much Booty by MC #68!" ZzzzZZzzz "Spit your game, talk your sit, grab your gat, call you clique!" ZzzzZzzzZzzz "Stand by your man..." ZzZZzzzzZZzZZzZZZZzzz "[i]Radio Disney!" ZzZzzzzzzZzzz "Dame mas gasolina! Dame mas gasolina!" ZzzzzZZzzzZz "Do you believe in life after love?" ZzzzZZzz "In other news..."
Javier sighed. "Ah, the news..."
In other news, the Assembly has decided for the first time in Union/Rosian History to restrict immigration into the Island and its Republics. As of now, those without an identification tag will be deported immediately. On to sports news... ZzzzZZzzZZzzzZzzzZzZz Welcome to the Council. Today we will debate the following question: Can there be too much booty in the pants?
"Hm, interesting." Javier said to himself as he drove along.
On our show we have MC #68, the man who made this song. He says that there can never be too much booty. Say hello Mr. 68
Word.
And on the opposing side we have Professor Robert du Bois of Sociology for the University of Nova Rosannia.
Good morning.
Mr. 68 we'll start with you.
All right now see... there can never be too much booty. I mean the booty is a beautiful thing. The booty can never over booty somebody. You get me?
No no! If there is too much booty it will throw off World Governments. The Presidents and Kings will be distracted by the amount of booty and will accidently launch nuclear weapons. ZzzzZzzz.
"Bah, screw it." And thus Javier drove to work. I would continue but I'm just too tired to think of anything. See you next post...!
(If you wanna join in, MSN me or TG me... I'm open. No OOC posts!)
Hello Ladies, Gentlemen, and those inbetween (because we have some she-men in the audience don't we?). Remember me? The Narrator? No probably not. Lazy funks. Anyway, we're going to take a departure. Normally I would tell the story of an important person (because Heads of State are important) or of someone semi-important. But no. Not this time. We're gonna follow the adventures (because life is an adventure, I think) of several Rosians. That, and the Author can only write about the same thing over and over and over and over and over... and over... err, sorry. So let's go to the first story. The story of a man living in the inner city, aka the Hood*, Ghetto, that place where rich people avoid, etc. The story of a Latin man named Javier Hernandez III, and the things that happen around him. And now, let the story begin... woosh.
*I don't actually live in the Hood, any inaccuracies of the Hood cannot be blamed on the Author.
"Bah!" Javier exclaimed. "Another day of work..."
The Hood was darker then most of the city, but that's because they couldn't afford to buy sunlight. It was grey, because they couldn't afford paint. The streets were full of cars, Honda Civics really. The only rich thing in the ghetto, who cares if you can't afford food. At least you have a sweet whip to drive around in, right ladies? Eh! Reggaeton and hip hop failed the air. The alleys are filled with prostitures, the corners are filled with people debating if 3Pac was better then Largie and vice-versa (we'll get to that later), ah yes. The Hood!
And what was Javier's job exactly?
He was a barber. So he was pretty well paid. Alot of people want to look sexy you know, I mean if you count have a virtual Caesar as haircut sexy but err... I'm not here to judge now am I? No, of course not. I'm here to tell a story. Hey, here's a segue on how Javier looks like:
Javier was 5'10, a bit short. He was not pale but he wasn't what you call a bronze god either. He had his little fade and tape like most of the Hoodlums, and well, there you are. But now he had to go to work in his car, a '73 Mustang. It's a handme down Mustang, he can't actually afford one... yeah. He then decided to turn the radio on.
ZzzzZZzz "Yo this is DJ Sexy Man Juarez on Power 96, Imma play a track that's been gettin' lots play. It's Too Much Booty by MC #68!" ZzzzZZzzz "Spit your game, talk your sit, grab your gat, call you clique!" ZzzzZzzzZzzz "Stand by your man..." ZzZZzzzzZZzZZzZZZZzzz "[i]Radio Disney!" ZzZzzzzzzZzzz "Dame mas gasolina! Dame mas gasolina!" ZzzzzZZzzzZz "Do you believe in life after love?" ZzzzZZzz "In other news..."
Javier sighed. "Ah, the news..."
In other news, the Assembly has decided for the first time in Union/Rosian History to restrict immigration into the Island and its Republics. As of now, those without an identification tag will be deported immediately. On to sports news... ZzzzZZzzZZzzzZzzzZzZz Welcome to the Council. Today we will debate the following question: Can there be too much booty in the pants?
"Hm, interesting." Javier said to himself as he drove along.
On our show we have MC #68, the man who made this song. He says that there can never be too much booty. Say hello Mr. 68
Word.
And on the opposing side we have Professor Robert du Bois of Sociology for the University of Nova Rosannia.
Good morning.
Mr. 68 we'll start with you.
All right now see... there can never be too much booty. I mean the booty is a beautiful thing. The booty can never over booty somebody. You get me?
No no! If there is too much booty it will throw off World Governments. The Presidents and Kings will be distracted by the amount of booty and will accidently launch nuclear weapons. ZzzzZzzz.
"Bah, screw it." And thus Javier drove to work. I would continue but I'm just too tired to think of anything. See you next post...!
(If you wanna join in, MSN me or TG me... I'm open. No OOC posts!)