During a boring summer all alone, Lou embarks upon an adventure, of which comes in the shape of Mr Price, a man with an interesting dress sense and something to hide.
'It isn't everyday you come across a moose, but when you do, hold on to it. '
'Ordinary people can't have a conversation with themselves, however you are an exception.
'When the day is dawning, on a Texas Sunday morning' sadly I don't know a Maria, of that I can recall anyway. This could be a fault of mine; an almighty must of creating the perfect world. Or perhaps not. Maybe it is all down to science and belief being in perfect balance. If I knew I wouldn't have a story to tell. Matter of fact, nobody would.
To begin my tale, it would be rude of me not to introduce myself, the name's Chase, Lou Chase, see it isn't hard to be a secret agent. It would be nice to know your name too, but you can see just how impossible that is. One day some ridiculously clever person will invent a brand of paper which stores MP3 sound tracks and videos, which all you would have to do was touch it with your finger. Although as with everything nowadays, it would come at a price.
Our tale begins with a certain Mr. Price, I say ours what I really mean is mine since you haven't quite heard the story. Isn't it annoying when someone is telling a joke or ironically a story and they completely dart off on a tangent, and the poor person trying their hardest not to scream, is doing just that trying not to scream. I won't keep you any longer if that is what you want to do with your time. Or you could just go ahead and scream, have it over with then you can come right back to the story.
Did you enjoy that lovely shock to the system? I didn't. It was quite shocking to my ears alone, never mind the system. As was Mr. Price's dress sense. One day he would stroll into the park wearing tweed suits looking as if he was heading towards a pretty country manor for a spot of tea and perhaps a spell of fox hunting. The next he looked like Hawaii had thrown up all over him; there really was no telling what his motives were. It could be that he was having a minor protest against people like myself, sitting on a park bench potentially minding their own business, but what Mr. Price was seeing was a strange teenager getting up to some form of mischief. Of course this was not the case, me and mischief? That is only on occasion. Too much mischief wears oneself out. This is another trait of Mr. Price, he would always seem to be intentionally wearing himself out, running laps of the entire park (which was quite a way, uphill and everything) and then stopping, well I say stopping he was still hopping slowly on the spot whilst trying to get his breath back. Surely doing this is defeating the purpose, or maybe I am seeing things completely wrong, like he does with me? Perhaps all this time he is simply attracting squirrels with his interesting dress sense, and one naughty chap has crept up his leg, hence the hopping.
I find it amazing how people can acknowledge each other, know other people's names but never understand them. Much like me and Mr. Price, I honestly find him the strangest man ever; he probably thinks the same in return. Yet neither of us bothers to say anything. What could I say? So, Mr. Price I hear you reckon I am getting up to mischief. I'm not, just so you know and then just walk off back into my own little world? It works for reality TV 'stars'. However it appears I'm not a reality TV star, thank god. The question is, how can you artificially merge two different worlds together? Investigation or research is my only sensible answer.