by Devin84 October 15, 2007
Get the jackass of all trades mug.Some say it thirsts for blood; others say it is an innocent implement forced to do the bidding of murderous fiends. A disturbingly recurrent murder weapon, the Travelling Shovel Of Death appears in multiple different mediums (Usually novels), wherin it is featured murdering an innocent victim.
Henry knew his street well, but he didn't like it. The parameters stretched; the shadows hid secrets; the wind, ever restless, tossed the cloaks of strangers who glared from street corners. But he was sure in his safety. He knew the number of steps to his doorway. He knew where to lift his feet a little higher to avoid tripping on sidewalk cracks hidden in the dark. He knew who to avoid - at least he thought he did, in his naiveté.
A cat was waiting on his doorstep, that night. Dark, soft fur, long legs and a thrumming purr, yellow eyes glinting with reflections of far-off streetlights.
It smiled, sharp, glistening teeth ever white against the shadow of its fur.
In 42 years, Henry had never once seen a cat smile. Perhaps a trick of the light, or an illusion, he thought. Or maybe not. He knelt, looking the cat in the eyes.
It smiled at him, wider.
Wider.
A shadow moved; soft leather brushed against carpet, and a coat loosened its folds. "You're drunk again," said the voice. "Do you know, Henry, how much I dislike drunks?"
The cat hadn't moved; Henry glanced to the side, and caught a glance of soft brown shoes.
"Mr Woon," he slurred. "Ian. Mate. I just..."
He stopped.
Mr Woon smiled at him; a slow, langorious smile, not unlike that of his cat.
Then slowly, deliberately, he rested the shovel's tip on Henry's neck.
"I dislike drunks very much, Henry," he whispered.
Then he put his foot on the travelling shovel of death, and pushed down.
A cat was waiting on his doorstep, that night. Dark, soft fur, long legs and a thrumming purr, yellow eyes glinting with reflections of far-off streetlights.
It smiled, sharp, glistening teeth ever white against the shadow of its fur.
In 42 years, Henry had never once seen a cat smile. Perhaps a trick of the light, or an illusion, he thought. Or maybe not. He knelt, looking the cat in the eyes.
It smiled at him, wider.
Wider.
A shadow moved; soft leather brushed against carpet, and a coat loosened its folds. "You're drunk again," said the voice. "Do you know, Henry, how much I dislike drunks?"
The cat hadn't moved; Henry glanced to the side, and caught a glance of soft brown shoes.
"Mr Woon," he slurred. "Ian. Mate. I just..."
He stopped.
Mr Woon smiled at him; a slow, langorious smile, not unlike that of his cat.
Then slowly, deliberately, he rested the shovel's tip on Henry's neck.
"I dislike drunks very much, Henry," he whispered.
Then he put his foot on the travelling shovel of death, and pushed down.
by WillohWisp September 22, 2011
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a girl who travels to vacation spots, with out having a place to stay for the night and so she hooks up with a guy or girl so she has a place to sleep for the night. its also named the kate.
kate went to the vineyard this weekend with out a place to stay and she stayed the whole weekend so it sounds like she is traveling by back
by johndow0044 January 31, 2012
Get the traveling by back mug.by Beefy5391 July 16, 2009
Get the tradesies mug.literally just a photo of an egg with 7 legs and an eye walking across a barren landscape who’s goal is to find the
p a r m e s a n
-pretty meaningless
-surreal memeology
p a r m e s a n
-pretty meaningless
-surreal memeology
by highkey spittin straight facts November 17, 2019
Get the He travels, he seeks the p a r m e s a n mug.
Get the tradesman's entrance mug.by Starchylde June 15, 2016
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