Regular Show Busted Cart Novels & Stories

CARTER'S POV The Hastings Club looked the same as it always did… dark wood paneling, leather chairs that cost more than most people's cars, oil paintings of dead rich men who'd probably been just as morally bankrupt as the current members. I showed up at seven because Marcus had texted that morning saying we needed to celebrate, that drinks were on him. I knew what he really wanted was confirmation that Grace had signed and this whole mess was behind us.

Carter. *************************************************

the bellhop remarked with a serious face. "I'm sorry for what I am about to do," I gasped, shoving the cart with all my strength. It sped forward, directly into Karl's path. The cart slammed into him with a resounding crash, sending food and shattered dishware flying in all directions. Karl let out a pained roar, tumbling to the floor among the mess. "Fucking bitch! If I get you, you are dead for real this time!" Karl barked like a bulldog, clutching his right arm.

He helped me up, promised to foot the bills but on the condition that I become his wife. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I curled my hair behind my ears, It was no use crying now. The deed had been done. My phone vibrated in my pocket, I dug my fingers into the back of my jeans. My jaws dropped when I saw the notification, it was a credit alert. Henry Ford had wired the payment he promised into my account. ‘Was this real?’ I wondered as I felt relief sneak into my heart, relaxing the tightness I had initially been feeling.

She's not wrong. By nine PM, the diner is packed with truckers, night shift workers, and a few college students from schools I don't recognize. My feet already hurt, but I keep moving. Beth, a woman in her fifties with a smoker's rasp and quick hands, shows me how to balance four plates at once. "Table six needs refills. Four wants his burger medium rare, not medium. That guy in the corner booth always orders pie but never eats it—weird, but his money is the same as anyone's."

" Not long after Georgina was taken away, Sean resurfaced. After a week of what had been done to him, there was not an unbruised inch on his body. He had been shocked with electric prods until he lost control of his bladder, and he was dumped outside the police station in a wretched heap. Word was that a folder of embezzlement evidence had been tossed on the ground beside him. By the time the police brought him inside, he had already lost his mind. He kept dropping to his knees in front of anyone who walked past, muttering over and over, "It's all my fault. I'll never do it again. Please, just let me go." The embezzlement case was reopened, and the police confirmed every detail. He was on th

she announces. Mick tries to hide his face in the couch and mumbles for everyone to leave, that he's ashamed. Jim, a big man who always shares in the group how his divorce triggered his drinking, chuckles softly. "Don't worry, kid. I had a relapse in my second week. Alberta had to retrieve my drunk ass from my son's wedding," he says. "I had my relapse at three years after losing my job. I started counting again, and I've been sober for a year now. There's nothing to be ashamed of," Celeste, another group member, says.

ball of yarn, unbinds me, laughter crumbles my walls, come undone, unravel me, you’re the only one Lyrics are back. She’s cured my writer’s block. She nudges my shoulder, drawing me from the song forming in my head. A man in a work shirt and dark pants pushes his cart towards us. The front right wheel of the cart squeaks and shakes erratically. “Thanks for coming,” Montana greets politely. “I’m not sure how this happened.” “It happens from time to time,” the man’s gravelly voice responds. “We’ve even created this handy-dandy metal tool to unlock it with.”

How lucky am I. A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. The young man quickly tidied up the wood and covered the goods as before. Then he jumped down from the cart and slowly dragged it along the block, navigating the narrow alley. As he passed through the narrow gap, his invention of a cart that could fold and squeeze through tight spaces unfolded back to its normal shape. "Sisterrrr, Sister from Airburst!"

CARTER That was quite the show.I almost want to applaud Carmen for her spectacular Broadway performance. Vex elbows me in the side like I’m suddenly the enemy. “What the fuck?” he hisses in my ear. “How much have you had to drink? Put the blackboard down.” Vex can’t tell me what to do. He’s not in the police force anymore, even though he still acts like it from time to time. “I know her,” I murmur under my breath.