while i do not think this could ever rival poe and his writings, i am going after a feel similar to his, which means CREEPY!and it has to have a crazy guy.
Though this is actually going to be an attempt at buffing up my writing in terms of detail.
So it should be longer, includes more than 2 lines of talking, and should be a good read.
here is what i got so far:
The burglar picked the lock on the front door, carefully taking off the lock and laying it in his pocket he opened the large scarlet doors. Turned on his flash light and crept into a nearby room he noticed a fancy piece of silver wear walked over to it placed it in his small bag and continued on, a light from the door turned on. The burglar looked up nervous, and grabbed a handful of silverware placed it in his grey bag and ran to the door. He reached for the handle but could not make it, as he was suddenly hit with a hard object from him.
The burglar awoke on the floor 6 hours later; he had an unbearable pain in both of his legs, Lifting his legs he fell back to the floor grimacing as he hit the concrete beneath him. He finally looked up, and saw a short fat man wearing a dark green bathrobe and smoking a freshly lit cigar. The mans hair looked as if it were torn out by a cat on steroids, and his fat looked as if it had previously been melting. A large crimson wooden chair was behind the man, taking the cigar out of his mouth, he spoke.
“Don’t bother to get up, your legs are broken, trust me, I’m a doctor.” Smiling, he put the cigar in his mouth again, and sat on the chair. Crossing his legs he took out a small paper from a pocket in his robe, and crumpled it into a ball. He took the cigar out again and threw the crumpled paper into a corner of the room they were in.
“Now” He said smiling “When I heard you making a mess in my kitchen I thought about calling the fuzz, but then I realized, why should I hand over something that I found, and ruin my week? You can stay with me until you get all better, or I you can go to jail. Which do you prefer?”
“Ill stay with you for sure”, said the burglar, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
“Okay then, if you are to be living in my basement what’s your name?” The man looked at his cigar, and threw it on the ground.
“My name is Cartman” the Burglar replied, “what’s yours?”
“It doesn’t matter what my name is Cartman, do you mind telling me how old you are?”
“Why did I have to give you my name if it didn’t matter?” asked Cartman.
“I never said you had to give me your name, now then how old are you?”
“I don’t fell like answering”
“That’s fine, but of course I’ll kill you if you don’t answer me. “
Cartman raised his eyebrows and flinched as if he had just been head butted by Zinedine Zidane. “I thought you said It didn’t matter” He slurred.
“It dosent, atleast it dosent matter for me” said the the man as a smile spread across his face.”now, how old are you?”
“twenty five” answered Cartman
“No need to lie Cartman, how old are you really?”
“I beg to differ, your wallet says otherwise” The fat man pulled out cartmans plain brown wallet and dropped infront of cartmans nose. “Why would you lie Cartman? There is no need, for why is there need for you to loose my trust?” The man grinned again spreading his arms wide, “there is none, now how old are you really?”
“Now that’s better, let us continue” Cartmans eyes were searching frantically for a way out a window door, something.; He found a grey door that blended a,lmost perfecttley with the rest of the dull grey room. “look at the door all you want your not getting out of here Cartman. You made a choice and you chose to stay here, and stay is what you will do.”
welcome my son! welcome to the machine!
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