Mr. Godfellows Intro/ Death....
The seven people seated around Table Five were waiting patiently for the person whom had brought them to The Blue Locust to appear.
It was half past eight when the elusive Mr. Godfellows showed his face.
A rather portly man who had a disgruntled look on his weather-beaten 38-year-old face.
He stood at 6’0 tall and seemed to sneer at those present within his company.
He wore a wrinkled suit that looked like it was a size too small for Mr. Godfellows to be in. Taking off his wet jacket, Mr. Godfellows handed it to a passing waiter, that is, if you call throwing it without looking as “passing”.
Grunting a disgusting sigh, Mr. Godfellows lightly brushed his dodgy moustache with one of his podgy fingers and then sleeked back his greasy black hair that smelt of disgusting cologne.
Snapping his fingers, Mr. Godfellows bellowed out to the Chinese woman in a booming voice, as if he needed to be heard.
The Chinese woman looked like a waitress, she seemed flustered and nodded her head several times, leading Mr. Godfellows over to the table.
As he neared the table, Mr. Godfellows grunted once more with disfavour in his voice, going over to the head seat at the end.
The seat groaned as Mr. Godfellows sat in it, his weight seemed almost too much but the creaking stopped.
The Chinese waitress asked the guests what they would like to order.
They each in turn said what they wanted; the only one barking out orders was Mr. Godfellows, whom distressed the waitress further.
She finally left, having jotted down the orders and scurried away to the kitchen, grateful to have gotten away from Table Five.
The eight started to make idle chitchat, that is, when Mr. Bruno Godfellows had cut the silence by saying he did not pay for the meal for the rest of them to sit as cabbages.
He remarked to George, “Much like your old father, eh, George?”
Mr. Godfellows laughed at his own joke, not noticing that George Oswell had picked up his chopsticks and broke them under the table.
The others did not notice either, having only heard the boisterous laughter of the tyrannical business tycoon known as Mr. Bruno Godfellows.
The table grew silent until the Appetizers had arrived. The table began to relax slightly and more chitchat ensued, this time freely.
Mr. Godfellows turned to Karura Haruno and muttered something in her native language, which roughly translated into, “I hope you have not become a tramp like your mother.”
She fumed under her breath but saw him smirking and knew it was better not to give a man like him the satisfaction.
During the Appetizers, Eryn Baker had boldly asked Mr. Godfellows when he would pay her the loan he owed her. The table grew silent, all eyes expectantly glancing at Bruno Godfellows.
He seemed to rub his broad chin with thought.
“I do not recall such a loan,” he replied and started eating again.
“But…” Eryn started vehemently but Mr. Godfellows glanced sharply up at her.
“You had best put things to paper, Miss Baker,” he said with cautious tone. He said no more and continued eating.
Eryn Baker huffed slightly, slumping back in her chair.
The Appetizers were over and the main course was to be served next.
The waiters brought in the dishes, Mr. Godfellows had ordered a soup-dish, and the rest ate their own preferences.
Mr. Godfellows seemed in a jolly mood and the suffering of others was always his biggest exploit, he thrived on it.
Greedily eating his soup, Mr. Godfellows turned to Miss Jackie Stallone.
“So, how’s that darn brat of yours?” he asked without remorse.
Jackie Stallone did not know what to say, she got up from the table with tears in her eyes.
“Excuse me,” she said, leaving the table and running towards the bathroom.
Mr. Godfellows merely shrugged his bulging shoulders and continued to eat his soup.
“Guess she can’t take a joke,” he stated and started to laugh, his pinkish face going bright pink with giddy glee.
Suddenly, Mr. Godfellows stopped laughing and started to choke up and his body going rigid, his face going bright purple. His tongue out and he fell forward in his chair, his face buried into his soup bowl.
Mr. Bruno Godfellows was now dead.
(You may now begin as your characters. If you have any questions about anything you don't understand (story wise) then PM me. If you want to guess who the murderer is, PM me. Good luck.)
. So are you going to write the last into today or tomorrow?
