911 is a Joke!
folder
M through R › Reservoir Dogs
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,323
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Reservoir Dogs
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
3,323
Reviews:
13
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Reservoir Dogs, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 2
911 is a Joke - Chapter 2
NGM
This story is a fan fiction based on the screenplay and film ‘Reservoir Dogs’, by Quentin Tarantino. Everything belongs to him. This fiction has no ok from ‘A Band Apart’, Quentin Tarantino, or Lawrence Bender. All rights reserved to them. I make no profit off this. Some dialogue is yanked directly from the text of the script, ala the soft cover screenplay.
The characters are placed in each scene as Quentin Tarantino describes in the screenplay, I suggest purchasing it at BarnesandNoble.com for added detail and stuff that was removed from the original script.
Again, all rights reserved. I only gain mental pleasure from this.
~*~*~*~
Stepping outside, Freddy glanced at the car, the side of his mouth turning up; he noted the cop car a block down, two familiar fat shapes chowing down some bear claws, Freddy’d almost shook his head in disgust. He crossed the street behind Eddie’s car, then threw open the rear passenger’s side door, and slid in next to… Mr.White. A smile appeared on his face, and Nice Guy Eddie caught his eye through the rear-view mirror as he clicked his seat-belt on, before taking off.
Mr.Pink was in the passenger’s seat babbling at Nice Guy, Mr.White was next to him, eyeing him again, so odd… sitting in a white undershirt and a pair of jeans that looked like they’d seen better years. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses that he let slip down the bridge of his nose, before he smiled, and pushed them back up.
“ …Hey! I know what I’m talkin’ about, black women ain’t the same as white women!”
White… Larry, arched an eyebrow, and smirked a little, tilting his head towards Pink.
“There’s a slight difference.”
Freddy found himself smiling a little more, settling back in his seat to casually observe, though a soft laugh escaped his lips, Eddie let out a chortle as well. Mr.Pink just looked a little sour, continuing on.
“Go ahead! Laugh! You know what I mean… What a white bitch will put up with, a black bitch won’t put up with for a minute. They got a line, and if you cross it, they fuck you up…”
Eddie nodded in agreement, fumbling with the station as they turned left down Sunrise Boulevard.
“I gotta go along with Mr.Pink on this, I’ve seen it happen.” He murmured solemnly, finding 96.7FM, K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies, just as Freddy had predicted.
White lowered his glasses, Freddy turned and eyed him a little, and in response was eyed back with a smile, then Larry, as the undercover cop had fondly begun to mentally refer to him as, directed his attention to Mr.Pink, an eyebrow quirked.
“OK, Mr.Expert… If this is such a truism, how come every nigger I know treats his woman like a piece of shit?”
Mr.Pink rolled his eyes, half turning around in his seat, ignoring Nice Guy Eddie’s arm as he fumbled with the treble and bass, his head bobbing a little to the music.
“I’ll make you a bet that those same damn niggers who were showin’ their ass in public, when their bitches get’em home, they chill the fuck out.”
Larry snorted, folding his arms over his chest, and Freddy grinned a little more, almost with pride, watching the older, wiser man prove his point.
“Not these guys.”
Pink looked unimpressed, one eyebrow arching.
“Yeah, those guys too.”
Eddie cleared his throat, shoving Pink back down into his seat before returning both hands to the wheel.
“Lemme tell you guys a story. In one of Daddy’s clubs there was this black cocktail waitress named Elois…”
“Elois?”
Freddy had blinked at the too too, shifting in his seat to face Mr.White, back against the door. Judging by the look on Larry’s face, the man thought this name was a bit… odd as well.
“Yeah, Elois. E and Lois. We called her Lady E.”
“Was she from Compton?”
The car erupted with laughter for a moment, Eddie, rubbed his cheek, then slapped his hand down onto the wheel.
“No, she was from Ladora Heights.”
Pink grinned, nudging Eddie back with a slightly irritated, yet amused look on his face.
“Aah, the black Beverly Hills…”
Eddie shook his head, grinning, Larry was laughing still, he draped his arm along the back of the seat, apparently not caring if it invaded Mr.Orange(as they knew him)’s ‘personal’ space.
Freddy, of course, noted this too, then shifted slightly closer to his original position, eyeing him evenly, eyes darting to Pink and Nice Guy, every so often. Nice Guy snorted, rolling his eyes.
“It’s not the black Beverly Hills, it’s the black Palos Verdes.” He emphasized this with a slap to Pink’s shoulder with the back of his hand.
He went on about how the woman loosely resembled Pam Grier, a Nubian goddess in her own right, and some horrible, terrible thing she did to her abusive husband. Freddy piped up, asking about what he’d done to deserve something like that, but it seemed that even Eddie was too squeamish to relay what indeed took place between Eloise and her unfortunate husband.
The car erupted with laughter again, and he sighed, grinning a little. A part of him really enjoyed the company of the others. Pink was a bit bitchy, but he was very smart, articulate though he swore like it was his first time swearing. Not too bad of a guy. Eddie was well… he was a Nice Guy. Pretty good to ya, if you were on his good side, otherwise, he was a force to be reckoned with, becoming another Joe Cabot, which was why the fuzz needed to stop them immediately… But, much to his horror, he’d found himself replaying the day’s events in his head before bed, and knowing that he was feeling at ease with his other aliased ‘co-workers’ was disconcerting to a degree. They felt like a family. And they accepted him like family as well.
Even at the force, he still felt like a fucking outcast.
Freddy leaned back, sliding against the vinyl seats with ease, his shoulder brushing against Larry’s arm. He jumped, then looked at the other man, who either didn’t seem to mind, or simply didn’t notice, then slid back.
An eyebrow arched, nearly to his hairline as Mr.White’s arm draped itself across his shoulders, he forced himself not to peer over at the man, but casually accepted the rather bold advance, noticing Nice Guy Eddie’s eyebrow arching in the rear-view mirror.
“We’re almost there…” Cabot murmured, turning up the music on the radio, his thumbs tapping along with the bass.
“I love this song.”
“It’s not that great of a song, y’know, it’s too… pop-y…”
“Aw, shut up, ya faggot, this song ain’t that bad, you just don’t know the difference between good, and shit, that’s all.”
Freddy let the bickering between the two men in the front drown out through the lyrics of ‘Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes’, eyes narrowing at the names of the streets they turned on, buildings they passed, fast-food joints along the way. There was a Big Kahuna Burger not too far from where they were.
He glanced at Mr.White for a moment, and was surprised to catch the other man looking down at him, Lawrence had darted his gaze away, a moment too late; And Freddy found this fascinating… Idly wondering if maybe Dimick was working for someone other than Joe. Maybe he too, was fooling them all… The man was, at this moment, a paradox. His lips quirked into a little smile, and he continued to sit there, the weight of the other’s arm across his shoulders more welcoming than disturbing.
Soon Eddie pulled the car in front of a seemingly abandoned warehouse, looked like an old mattress factory, but, truth be told, held a series of omnious empty caskets, a chalkboard, some fold up chairs, and soon to house a handful of greedy, eager men.
NGM
This story is a fan fiction based on the screenplay and film ‘Reservoir Dogs’, by Quentin Tarantino. Everything belongs to him. This fiction has no ok from ‘A Band Apart’, Quentin Tarantino, or Lawrence Bender. All rights reserved to them. I make no profit off this. Some dialogue is yanked directly from the text of the script, ala the soft cover screenplay.
The characters are placed in each scene as Quentin Tarantino describes in the screenplay, I suggest purchasing it at BarnesandNoble.com for added detail and stuff that was removed from the original script.
Again, all rights reserved. I only gain mental pleasure from this.
~*~*~*~
Stepping outside, Freddy glanced at the car, the side of his mouth turning up; he noted the cop car a block down, two familiar fat shapes chowing down some bear claws, Freddy’d almost shook his head in disgust. He crossed the street behind Eddie’s car, then threw open the rear passenger’s side door, and slid in next to… Mr.White. A smile appeared on his face, and Nice Guy Eddie caught his eye through the rear-view mirror as he clicked his seat-belt on, before taking off.
Mr.Pink was in the passenger’s seat babbling at Nice Guy, Mr.White was next to him, eyeing him again, so odd… sitting in a white undershirt and a pair of jeans that looked like they’d seen better years. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses that he let slip down the bridge of his nose, before he smiled, and pushed them back up.
“ …Hey! I know what I’m talkin’ about, black women ain’t the same as white women!”
White… Larry, arched an eyebrow, and smirked a little, tilting his head towards Pink.
“There’s a slight difference.”
Freddy found himself smiling a little more, settling back in his seat to casually observe, though a soft laugh escaped his lips, Eddie let out a chortle as well. Mr.Pink just looked a little sour, continuing on.
“Go ahead! Laugh! You know what I mean… What a white bitch will put up with, a black bitch won’t put up with for a minute. They got a line, and if you cross it, they fuck you up…”
Eddie nodded in agreement, fumbling with the station as they turned left down Sunrise Boulevard.
“I gotta go along with Mr.Pink on this, I’ve seen it happen.” He murmured solemnly, finding 96.7FM, K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies, just as Freddy had predicted.
White lowered his glasses, Freddy turned and eyed him a little, and in response was eyed back with a smile, then Larry, as the undercover cop had fondly begun to mentally refer to him as, directed his attention to Mr.Pink, an eyebrow quirked.
“OK, Mr.Expert… If this is such a truism, how come every nigger I know treats his woman like a piece of shit?”
Mr.Pink rolled his eyes, half turning around in his seat, ignoring Nice Guy Eddie’s arm as he fumbled with the treble and bass, his head bobbing a little to the music.
“I’ll make you a bet that those same damn niggers who were showin’ their ass in public, when their bitches get’em home, they chill the fuck out.”
Larry snorted, folding his arms over his chest, and Freddy grinned a little more, almost with pride, watching the older, wiser man prove his point.
“Not these guys.”
Pink looked unimpressed, one eyebrow arching.
“Yeah, those guys too.”
Eddie cleared his throat, shoving Pink back down into his seat before returning both hands to the wheel.
“Lemme tell you guys a story. In one of Daddy’s clubs there was this black cocktail waitress named Elois…”
“Elois?”
Freddy had blinked at the too too, shifting in his seat to face Mr.White, back against the door. Judging by the look on Larry’s face, the man thought this name was a bit… odd as well.
“Yeah, Elois. E and Lois. We called her Lady E.”
“Was she from Compton?”
The car erupted with laughter for a moment, Eddie, rubbed his cheek, then slapped his hand down onto the wheel.
“No, she was from Ladora Heights.”
Pink grinned, nudging Eddie back with a slightly irritated, yet amused look on his face.
“Aah, the black Beverly Hills…”
Eddie shook his head, grinning, Larry was laughing still, he draped his arm along the back of the seat, apparently not caring if it invaded Mr.Orange(as they knew him)’s ‘personal’ space.
Freddy, of course, noted this too, then shifted slightly closer to his original position, eyeing him evenly, eyes darting to Pink and Nice Guy, every so often. Nice Guy snorted, rolling his eyes.
“It’s not the black Beverly Hills, it’s the black Palos Verdes.” He emphasized this with a slap to Pink’s shoulder with the back of his hand.
He went on about how the woman loosely resembled Pam Grier, a Nubian goddess in her own right, and some horrible, terrible thing she did to her abusive husband. Freddy piped up, asking about what he’d done to deserve something like that, but it seemed that even Eddie was too squeamish to relay what indeed took place between Eloise and her unfortunate husband.
The car erupted with laughter again, and he sighed, grinning a little. A part of him really enjoyed the company of the others. Pink was a bit bitchy, but he was very smart, articulate though he swore like it was his first time swearing. Not too bad of a guy. Eddie was well… he was a Nice Guy. Pretty good to ya, if you were on his good side, otherwise, he was a force to be reckoned with, becoming another Joe Cabot, which was why the fuzz needed to stop them immediately… But, much to his horror, he’d found himself replaying the day’s events in his head before bed, and knowing that he was feeling at ease with his other aliased ‘co-workers’ was disconcerting to a degree. They felt like a family. And they accepted him like family as well.
Even at the force, he still felt like a fucking outcast.
Freddy leaned back, sliding against the vinyl seats with ease, his shoulder brushing against Larry’s arm. He jumped, then looked at the other man, who either didn’t seem to mind, or simply didn’t notice, then slid back.
An eyebrow arched, nearly to his hairline as Mr.White’s arm draped itself across his shoulders, he forced himself not to peer over at the man, but casually accepted the rather bold advance, noticing Nice Guy Eddie’s eyebrow arching in the rear-view mirror.
“We’re almost there…” Cabot murmured, turning up the music on the radio, his thumbs tapping along with the bass.
“I love this song.”
“It’s not that great of a song, y’know, it’s too… pop-y…”
“Aw, shut up, ya faggot, this song ain’t that bad, you just don’t know the difference between good, and shit, that’s all.”
Freddy let the bickering between the two men in the front drown out through the lyrics of ‘Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes’, eyes narrowing at the names of the streets they turned on, buildings they passed, fast-food joints along the way. There was a Big Kahuna Burger not too far from where they were.
He glanced at Mr.White for a moment, and was surprised to catch the other man looking down at him, Lawrence had darted his gaze away, a moment too late; And Freddy found this fascinating… Idly wondering if maybe Dimick was working for someone other than Joe. Maybe he too, was fooling them all… The man was, at this moment, a paradox. His lips quirked into a little smile, and he continued to sit there, the weight of the other’s arm across his shoulders more welcoming than disturbing.
Soon Eddie pulled the car in front of a seemingly abandoned warehouse, looked like an old mattress factory, but, truth be told, held a series of omnious empty caskets, a chalkboard, some fold up chairs, and soon to house a handful of greedy, eager men.