So, someone I follow on twitter posted the following:
As I was bored and still in a writing mood after today’s Fast Fiction, I decided to write up her epic journey. No real reason, just ‘cos.
What I have ended up with is the single longest piece I’ve written in a few months. It’s silly, it’s in no way serious. And to get some of it you may have to look up #robinleblancfacts on twitter.
The early evening light was dimming over the city as Robin stared bleakly into the empty refrigerator.
A gnawing hunger growled deep within her, this could not be allowed. With a purposeful stride, she made her way to her arsenal of clothes. The jumper would have to be thick enough to keep out the cold, yet stylish enough to impress. The dark green wool one would suffice.
Boots, not shoes were required here. The dark leather ones that stretched over her calves were perfect.
Now all that was required was a small tot of the good stuff to hold back the first edges of the chill.
The beer armoury was distressingly low. Only some fifteen different ales were represented. A side mission would be included then, a trip to the booze store was a must.
Attired in her armour and fortified by a smooth, strong and dark ale, Robin stepped out into the world.
Her senses heightened by the foreknowledge that soon bacon and more beer would be hers, every potential obstacle was thoroughly scanned. That was when she saw it; the bus was pulling up to the stop already! The boots were not made for sprinting, but she powered along the street, watching as the half human apes stumbled out of the public transport.
“Just keep coming.” She muttered through gritted teeth.
The exiting line stopped and she was still too far away. Burning the power of the ale in her stomach, Robin piled on the speed.
The hiss of the doors ready to close was loud, made clearer by the beer. It was going to be close.
The doors slid shut and the engine revved.
Skidding alongside the behemoth of travel, Robin slammed the palm of her hand down its length. The engine noise lowered and the doors hissed open once more.
Stepping calmly aboard, as though no effort had been made to catch it, Robin bought her ticket and sat down.
The noise-chimp bopped its head rhythmically to the deep beats pumping out from the inadequately shielded headphones. No tune was discernable, just a deep, pounding beat that did nothing but irritate.
Robin could see the other passengers that were still mostly human were as disturbed by the wrong sounds the noise-chimp was making. None of them had her fortitude, she realised.
Standing, with poise, she weaved her way along the bus, moving in perfect motion with the vehicle’s rocking and rolling, until she stood before the irritant.
Red eyes, sunken deep into a narrow face glanced up to see her. A sneer began to form on its lips, but before it could complete this action, Robin had bent down and was in its face.
“Turn the fucking music down.” She spoke calmly, but forcefully.
The noise-chimp looked about the bus for support, but found none. It nodded in defeat, her sheer presence and the sight of her feared, clenched, punching hand making up its mind for it.
The bass dwindled to acceptable levels and Robin nodded. Standing she returned to her seat, accepting the grateful nods from the near humans around her.
The rest of the journey was sweet calm.
Exiting the bus, she could hear the moans of the poor other souls forced to be outside on a Sunday evening. Their pitiful shambling ways were not hers though. She had a purpose, a reason for moving through them. She pitied them in a way, without a singular goal to strive for, they were aimless.
But their plight was their own, her destination stood before her – Harry’s Emporium. A den of enticing smells and traps for the weak willed. Only the strong of purpose could enter and leave with only what they had come for. A quick trip to get a loaf of bread could easily find the bewildered soul leaving with a bottle of soda, some candy and three different kinds of cheese if they were unwary.
Robin focused on what she had come for – a loaf of bread, bacon, mayo and triscuits. All else was a distraction.
Heading for the bread the cakes near it called out their siren song to her. On sale, small bites of cakey goodness with chocolate and raisins, all the things to comfort you while you watched TV. They drew her in, closer and closer. Her hand reached out for them, touching the plastic covering. She could feel the grin on Harry’s face, another victim, another sucked in by temptation.
Robin tapped herself on the thigh with her mighty punching hand. The pain was immediately and clearing. She snatched back her other hand and glared at the sirens before her. Then she grabbed the bread and slammed it into her basket.
The mayonnaise was easy, only a slight lapse where the consideration of whether butter was required stalled her. The bacon though, that was a mortal foe. Smoked or unsmoked, how many rashers? Foolishly she had not thought to decide before entering and indecision and temptation struck at her.
Pack after pack was picked up and then returned, she could feel her will being sapped by the choices. But Robin LeBlanc was no normal shopper, for she had the power of ale within her. The beer decided for her, one pack shone brighter than the rest and when she pulled it out she could see the decision was correct. Hurling the bacon into the basket, she raced to the triscuits, picking them up on the run, barely looking as she did.
No more distractions, Robin placed her shopping on the counter. Harry grinned from his position. A large man with a shaved, lumpen head and a thick beard that grew down to his chest, he was an imposing figure for most.
“Anything else?” Harry asked her, gesturing to the rows of sweets and magazines just within reach.
Robin narrowed her eyes “Nothing more, tempter. Ring me up and let me go or by the power of my fist, so help me!” Robin raised her legendary fist and Harry shrank back. He raced through ringing through her shopping and taking her money. Robin could see the thin bead of sweat on his forehead as she left.
After the terror of impulse buys that Harry’s Emporium had dared to inflict, Steve’s Drinks and That was an altogether more welcoming shop.
Steve nodded to Robin as she entered. A regular, she had helped with the selection of some of the better tasting ales in the past year.
“Need anything specific?” Steve asked.
Robin smiled “Something to suit an epic journey, my friend.”
Steve walked out from behind the counter, he was tall and slender and moved with a grace most of the near humans outside could only wish for. Even Robin felt a touch jealous at the smoothness of his steps.
“I think this is what you want.” He pulled a six pack from the shelf.
Robin studied the bottle, the text, written in some long forgotten time ago, described the taste, the smell and the colour. It was perfect. Steve had a nose for booze and could match it to any mood.
“Perfect.” Said Robin.
© Robert Spalding 2011