The ramblings of a Nut who should be doing something else – Adelaide, South Australia

lightning1999:

systematicslytherin:

kialessa:

[Video ID: A businessman is demonstrating cracking open a large nut by slamming his fist into it. The nut, having other ideas, breaks through the table instead upon being slammed, leaving a nut-sized hole. The businessman loses it.]

@kialessa I’m fucking losing it at this description fkdkdksks

@gumnut-logic

What if Virgil did that because Alan dared him to do so but things went like that.

@lightning1999

Don’t expect much 😀 I’m a vegetable tonight 😀

“I bet Virgil could do it.”

“Yeah, right. And damage those precious hands of his?”

“He could do it.”

“Do what?”

Red flannel entered the comms room and the two youngest
brothers jumped.

“Nothing.” Alan never really was good at prevaricating.

And Virgil had weaponised eyebrows that could have you
admitting to being on the green knoll.

“Dare ya, Virg.” Gordon was never afraid to grab the
elephant in the room by the throat.

Experienced suspicion was the next expression to pass over
his brother’s face. “To do what?”

“Crack a nut…with your fist.”

“And why exactly would I want to do that?”

“Because I said you could do it, and Alan reckons you’d be
too scared.”

Those eyeball beams raked over his youngest brother. “Too
scared?”

Alan spread his arms. “Hey, I only had your best interests
at heart, bro. Gotta look after those pianist hands after all.”

Those pianist hands flexed a moment. And, yeah, damn his
brother had big hands.

“What’s the penalty?”

“Oh, denial of the hidden rations.” Alan was snickering.

An eyebrow arched. “Survival on Grandma’s cooking. That’s
cruel.”

Gordon held up a hand. “Hey, we could make this a positive
experience. Winner gets to choose pizza flavours next time AND gets it
delivered to the island.” The only way that was happening was if one of the
other brothers flew out to get it.

Virgil’s eyes darted back and forth between them as if
trying to work out the catch. “Loser delivers pizza?”

“Yep, in Tracy Two.”

Another musing moment. “Okay, give it here.” Virgil held out
a hand. Gordon made a pecan nut appear.

His brother examined it.

“What, do you think it might be fake or something?”

Brown eyes looked up at him as if he had said something
stupid. “Well, yeah, this is Gordon Tracy we’re talking about.”

“I’m offended.”

Alan smirked. “I’d be proud if I were you.”

Virgil shot a glare at the youngest, but quickly returned to
examining the nut. “Looks like a nut.”

“It is a an honest to goodness, everyday pecan nut. Geesh.”

“Okay.” Virgil tossed it in the air a moment, catching it in
one hand. “Let’s do this.”

Scanning the room, his eyes landed on their father’s desk. “Over
here.”

Gordon’s eyes widened. “Really, you want to do it on Dad’s
desk?”

“Sure, why not?” And Virgil was eyeing him again. “Unless
there is something you’re not telling me.”

Gordon held up his hands. “Hey, honest to god, Virg. All
above board.”

“Hmm.”

He took a seat at the desk an placed the nut down. Eyeing it
a moment longer as if assessing tactics, he then flexed his shoulders, and his
fist came down.

And the nut disappeared.

Through the top of the desk.

“Shit!” Apparently only Gordon had access to his voice.

There was now a perfectly nut shaped hole in the middle of
their father’s desk.

“Oh.” Virgil found his voice. “Um.” He stuck a finger in the
hole. It had only gone through one layer of thin wood, not the entire table top.
“Shit is right.” The nut had disappeared inside a hollow beneath the surface.

Scott was going to kill them.

Virgil frowned. “You know, I could have sworn this was solid
oak.” He poked the hole with his finger, bent down and looked into the footwell,
yanked out a drawer, the engineer obviously attempting to examine it from all
angles.

Gordon was too busy working out excuses and listening to see
if Scott had come back from his run yet.

And then Virgil’s questing fingers hit something, and a
secret panel slid out of the desk.

The nut rolled around in the tiny little hidden drawer
amongst papers, on top of which sat an envelope with the words ‘Scott Tracy’
scrawled in their father’s distinctive hand.

“Shit.”

And this time Virgil said with quiet awe.

-o-o-o-

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