Family Feud: A History (Plot Standalones)
Sept 15, 2012 8:40:31 GMT -5
Post by heartwood on Sept 15, 2012 8:40:31 GMT -5
Rocky Johnson
1500
It was a cold, crisp night; but after a long day enduring the sweltering heat that graphite mines so graciously provided, a nice breeze was certainly what Rockwell Johnson needed. Rockwell was a good worker; he was strong and durable, and as hard as the rock he chipped away at. He had always done what his superiors had told him to, and as a result he earned far more hours and much better wages than the next highest worker.
Tomorrow morning would be a weekend, but instead of spending it hiking around in the wilderness like he usually did; he would have to attend a company picnic headed by the boss of the company he worked for: Warhol Woodbury. Even though Warhol Woodbury was as difficult, stubborn, and demanding as bosses can get, Rocky still respected him to the fullest degree.
Warhol was born into district royalty; even as rich as those who resided in District One. He trained as a Career his entire life, but had never gotten his opportunity to be Reaped; but he wouldn’t let that stop him from achieving his own measure of personal glory. His father consistently fought against it; but nothing mattered to Warhol but becoming famous for his actions instead of his name. After his nineteenth birthday, Warhol used whatever savings and earnings he to improve a run-down mine into one of the safest and most productive mines in all of District 2.
Some of the upper class snobs may have called Warhol’s actions disgraceful and selfish in the beginning, but when they saw what a good investment he had made, they realized he had something special; and that something special was the very same flair that made Rocky such a good worked. They hardly ever spoke; even District 2 has it’s upper and lower classes, and there was very little communication between them.
Rocky wiped a bead of sweat from under his hard hat and began walking home from work. The Johnson’s lived in a small cottage in the rural areas of District Two; which housed many of the poorest families. The majority of the district came from wealth; families such as the Woodburys or the Fitzwalters had guesthouses and garages that were larger than the Johnson’s humble abode. But Rocky had called this place his home all his life; and as a young man supporting his parents and his little brother Diggy, he couldn’t be expected to do much better.
He unlocked the front door, smiling at his parents who were working in near perfect cohesion. “Hello mom, pop.”
Gerry Johnson was an old man. He had always said that he waited too late to have children, he and his wife were both pushing sixty-five; Rocky was only twenty-three. Life for the elderly was just as disparaging between the classes as it was for the young; only the elderly get fired when they can’t produce as much. Lynn Johnson was as energetic as she had been all her life, but the wear and tear on her body limited her natural excitement to short outbursts of enthusiasm. In Rocky’s eyes, his mother was even more beautiful than she remembered; to the rest of the District, she was plainer than cardboard.
“How was work, son?” asked Gerry Johnson.
“Same as always dad. Dirty, hot, messy. One of the guys passed out from heatstroke, not the best way to start the weekend,” responded Rocky.
“Oh that’s terrible, is he okay? Do we know him?” asked Lynn Johnson, genuinely concerned with the well being of a stranger.
“Well I know him, it happened right next to me. Some of the other guys, you know, the newer ones. They were rattled. They had no idea what was going on, most of them thought he was dead. I just had to alert the foreman; I think he should be alright.”
“Well that’s good. Any updates on the raise situation?” asked Gerry. It wasn’t that he was overly concerned with money; he just wanted his son to get the recognition he deserved for the level of production he put out in the mines.
“I didn’t ask for one. I just got one not too long ago, and I don’t want the other guys to think that I feel I’m better than them,” said Rocky.
“But you are better than them,” said Lynn.
Rocky laughed and shook his head, making his way to the bathroom. He washed his hands of the soot and dirt, rubbing his calloused palms together. He looked in the mirror, looking at the reflection of his dirt-covered face. His eyes were a dark brown, the same as his hair. His features were rounded and smooth, making him look far younger than he really was. If it wasn’t for his size and strength, most people would likely assume he was reapable. He tossed off his clothes and made his way into the shower, before changing and rejoining his parents in the dining room.
Rocky walked over to the kitchen and grabbed three sets of silverware for the dining table. He organized them neatly; the way his mother had taught him since he was young.
“Diggy’s eating out again?” asked Rocky.
“I’m afraid so,” said Gerry Johnson. “You know, you’re going to have to teach that boy some family values. A family that eats together stays together. And a family that stays together thrives together, that’s always been the Johnson way.” There were many things that fell under the Johnson way, many rules that needed to be followed. Rules that Rocky followed to the tee, but Diggy, a young boy of only sixteen did not. In fact, Diggy wanted bigger and better things; even if it meant risking his life in the Hunger Games.
“Oh, you know that boy,” said Lynn Johnson. “He’s always running off to training with his Career friends, or eating at a female companion’s house. You know, the parents of the girls he brings around sure do seem to like him.”
“Yea, he’s an expert at kissing ass. Both our kids are, only, Rocky’s ass-kissing brings home food for the family,” retorted Gerry loudly. The sudden outburst caused Rocky and Lynn to laugh. Lynn brought a pot of stew to the table, the aroma filled the area, causing Rocky’s mouth to salivate more than a rabid dog. “Now, I know you’re hungry, but Rocky this time try to save some for the rest of us.” They all laughed, serving themselves a solid portion of food. They may have been poorer than the majority of the district, but food was hardly ever a problem.
“So, what do you have planned for tomorrow? Your mother and I are going to go bird watching down by the lake, are you interested?”
“I would dad, but I can’t. There’s a company picnic tomorrow, and I really don’t want to miss it,” said Rocky. “Why can’t you miss it, is it mandatory attendance? Come to my fancy shindig or you’re fired type of thing?” asked Gerry. “No it’s not that its just…I would like my boss to get to know me. If I build up a personal relationship with him, I would really be doing justice to my job security and our future,” responded Rocky. “Not our future, your future,” said Lynn, smiling at him. “We don’t have too long you know.”
“Don’t talk like that!” laughed out Rocky. He wasn’t being entirely honest with his parents. The picnic was entirely voluntary, usually the corporate schmoozers would get together and show off their families and how well they could cook portable meals for a large group. Rocky wasn’t corporate, and he sure as hell didn’t have a wife; but that’s why he was going there in the first place. If they all brought their families, that could only mean Delilah Woodbury would be there.
Delilah Woodbury was the boss’s daughter; but Rocky’s fascination with her expanded way beyond some simple fantasy that all men had with women in a position of power. Delilah Woodbury wasn’t just one of the most beautiful women in district two, she was the most beautiful woman. She was just a year younger, and they had exchanged glances many times whenever there was a company event; but Rocky had never gathered the courage to go and talk to her. She was virtually untouchable. Her long brown hair fell enchantingly along her voluptuous curves, providing an unbelievably ethereal outline to a nearly perfect body. Her blue eyes were so bright that it was said you could go blind looking at them, but that didn’t keep the boys of the district from staring. Especially Rocky.
Rocky was determined to talk to her at the picnic. He was finally ready to bypass any anxiety he might feel or nerves that would normally keep him from making contact. He could only pray that she would show up, but isolating her from her very protective family (including his boss) would prove to be very difficult. He needed a plan.
1500
It was a cold, crisp night; but after a long day enduring the sweltering heat that graphite mines so graciously provided, a nice breeze was certainly what Rockwell Johnson needed. Rockwell was a good worker; he was strong and durable, and as hard as the rock he chipped away at. He had always done what his superiors had told him to, and as a result he earned far more hours and much better wages than the next highest worker.
Tomorrow morning would be a weekend, but instead of spending it hiking around in the wilderness like he usually did; he would have to attend a company picnic headed by the boss of the company he worked for: Warhol Woodbury. Even though Warhol Woodbury was as difficult, stubborn, and demanding as bosses can get, Rocky still respected him to the fullest degree.
Warhol was born into district royalty; even as rich as those who resided in District One. He trained as a Career his entire life, but had never gotten his opportunity to be Reaped; but he wouldn’t let that stop him from achieving his own measure of personal glory. His father consistently fought against it; but nothing mattered to Warhol but becoming famous for his actions instead of his name. After his nineteenth birthday, Warhol used whatever savings and earnings he to improve a run-down mine into one of the safest and most productive mines in all of District 2.
Some of the upper class snobs may have called Warhol’s actions disgraceful and selfish in the beginning, but when they saw what a good investment he had made, they realized he had something special; and that something special was the very same flair that made Rocky such a good worked. They hardly ever spoke; even District 2 has it’s upper and lower classes, and there was very little communication between them.
Rocky wiped a bead of sweat from under his hard hat and began walking home from work. The Johnson’s lived in a small cottage in the rural areas of District Two; which housed many of the poorest families. The majority of the district came from wealth; families such as the Woodburys or the Fitzwalters had guesthouses and garages that were larger than the Johnson’s humble abode. But Rocky had called this place his home all his life; and as a young man supporting his parents and his little brother Diggy, he couldn’t be expected to do much better.
He unlocked the front door, smiling at his parents who were working in near perfect cohesion. “Hello mom, pop.”
Gerry Johnson was an old man. He had always said that he waited too late to have children, he and his wife were both pushing sixty-five; Rocky was only twenty-three. Life for the elderly was just as disparaging between the classes as it was for the young; only the elderly get fired when they can’t produce as much. Lynn Johnson was as energetic as she had been all her life, but the wear and tear on her body limited her natural excitement to short outbursts of enthusiasm. In Rocky’s eyes, his mother was even more beautiful than she remembered; to the rest of the District, she was plainer than cardboard.
“How was work, son?” asked Gerry Johnson.
“Same as always dad. Dirty, hot, messy. One of the guys passed out from heatstroke, not the best way to start the weekend,” responded Rocky.
“Oh that’s terrible, is he okay? Do we know him?” asked Lynn Johnson, genuinely concerned with the well being of a stranger.
“Well I know him, it happened right next to me. Some of the other guys, you know, the newer ones. They were rattled. They had no idea what was going on, most of them thought he was dead. I just had to alert the foreman; I think he should be alright.”
“Well that’s good. Any updates on the raise situation?” asked Gerry. It wasn’t that he was overly concerned with money; he just wanted his son to get the recognition he deserved for the level of production he put out in the mines.
“I didn’t ask for one. I just got one not too long ago, and I don’t want the other guys to think that I feel I’m better than them,” said Rocky.
“But you are better than them,” said Lynn.
Rocky laughed and shook his head, making his way to the bathroom. He washed his hands of the soot and dirt, rubbing his calloused palms together. He looked in the mirror, looking at the reflection of his dirt-covered face. His eyes were a dark brown, the same as his hair. His features were rounded and smooth, making him look far younger than he really was. If it wasn’t for his size and strength, most people would likely assume he was reapable. He tossed off his clothes and made his way into the shower, before changing and rejoining his parents in the dining room.
Rocky walked over to the kitchen and grabbed three sets of silverware for the dining table. He organized them neatly; the way his mother had taught him since he was young.
“Diggy’s eating out again?” asked Rocky.
“I’m afraid so,” said Gerry Johnson. “You know, you’re going to have to teach that boy some family values. A family that eats together stays together. And a family that stays together thrives together, that’s always been the Johnson way.” There were many things that fell under the Johnson way, many rules that needed to be followed. Rules that Rocky followed to the tee, but Diggy, a young boy of only sixteen did not. In fact, Diggy wanted bigger and better things; even if it meant risking his life in the Hunger Games.
“Oh, you know that boy,” said Lynn Johnson. “He’s always running off to training with his Career friends, or eating at a female companion’s house. You know, the parents of the girls he brings around sure do seem to like him.”
“Yea, he’s an expert at kissing ass. Both our kids are, only, Rocky’s ass-kissing brings home food for the family,” retorted Gerry loudly. The sudden outburst caused Rocky and Lynn to laugh. Lynn brought a pot of stew to the table, the aroma filled the area, causing Rocky’s mouth to salivate more than a rabid dog. “Now, I know you’re hungry, but Rocky this time try to save some for the rest of us.” They all laughed, serving themselves a solid portion of food. They may have been poorer than the majority of the district, but food was hardly ever a problem.
“So, what do you have planned for tomorrow? Your mother and I are going to go bird watching down by the lake, are you interested?”
“I would dad, but I can’t. There’s a company picnic tomorrow, and I really don’t want to miss it,” said Rocky. “Why can’t you miss it, is it mandatory attendance? Come to my fancy shindig or you’re fired type of thing?” asked Gerry. “No it’s not that its just…I would like my boss to get to know me. If I build up a personal relationship with him, I would really be doing justice to my job security and our future,” responded Rocky. “Not our future, your future,” said Lynn, smiling at him. “We don’t have too long you know.”
“Don’t talk like that!” laughed out Rocky. He wasn’t being entirely honest with his parents. The picnic was entirely voluntary, usually the corporate schmoozers would get together and show off their families and how well they could cook portable meals for a large group. Rocky wasn’t corporate, and he sure as hell didn’t have a wife; but that’s why he was going there in the first place. If they all brought their families, that could only mean Delilah Woodbury would be there.
Delilah Woodbury was the boss’s daughter; but Rocky’s fascination with her expanded way beyond some simple fantasy that all men had with women in a position of power. Delilah Woodbury wasn’t just one of the most beautiful women in district two, she was the most beautiful woman. She was just a year younger, and they had exchanged glances many times whenever there was a company event; but Rocky had never gathered the courage to go and talk to her. She was virtually untouchable. Her long brown hair fell enchantingly along her voluptuous curves, providing an unbelievably ethereal outline to a nearly perfect body. Her blue eyes were so bright that it was said you could go blind looking at them, but that didn’t keep the boys of the district from staring. Especially Rocky.
Rocky was determined to talk to her at the picnic. He was finally ready to bypass any anxiety he might feel or nerves that would normally keep him from making contact. He could only pray that she would show up, but isolating her from her very protective family (including his boss) would prove to be very difficult. He needed a plan.
