Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

Before you read this, you should know that if you haven't seen the movie, Ocean's Eleven, you will probably read this piece and say, "that was the most stupid bit of unfunny writing ever." Just to let ya know.

Part I
“Well, what d’ya think?” Jake Vinton asked his two best buds Ben and Sam Mountjoy.
“What do we think of what, you haven’t even said anything!” Ben replied impatiently.
“Oh right, well you see, I just saw this great movie called Ocean’s Eleven right? Well, it was so easy for those guys to get the money I said to myself, I said, ‘hell I could just as easily do that, long as I got here my ten pals.’ And you guys would be two of them.”
“Jake, I’m married and I have two kids; there’s just no way I could do that,” Ben replied.
Sam laughed to himself.
“All I have is my Xbox. I got nothin’ to lose!” He turned as a tear rolled down his cheek.
“Great, I’m glad to hear it!”
Sam nodded.
“So…what happens next?” Sam asked.
Jake walked out the front door of the small one storied house in Abilene Texas. Jake wasn’t from around there himself, but the Mountjoy twins had been residence there for two years.
“We go get our next man,” Jake replied.
“You remember Sam Brown from our high school days?”
“Sam Brown? Course I do! Big Hown Brown.”
“Yeah I never really understand that nickname. For one thing hown’s not even a word.”
“Yeah but just say it, the way the words roll off your tongue like that. Big Hown Brown…big how brown,” he continued with each time gradually getting quieter than the last until he stopped and was simply mouthing the words.
It was in Albuquerque, New Mexico that the faded brown hippie van pulled up to a Greasy Joe’s.
“Why are we stoppin’ here.”
“This is where Sam Brown-”
“Big Hown Brown,” Sam cut in.
“Will you cut that out?”
“Anyway, this is where Sam Brown works now.”
“I see he’s done well for himself then.”
Jake just looked at him for a few seconds until Sam shrugged uncomfortably.
“I haven’t had a job in ten years remember; I’ve been muchin’ off Ben!”
Jake shook his head in disgust and pulled up to the drive through.
“Welcome to Greasy Joe’s, how can I take your order?”
“Is this…Sam Brown?”
“Sam Hown Brown,” Sam said in the background.
“I’ve come for you.”
“Look, I know the Detroit Lions lost…again…but I promise I’ll have the money by next Friday!”
“What? I haven’t come for money.”
“No, I’m not God either.”
“Then who is this?”
“It’s Jake…Jake Vinton.”
“No way! What are you doin’ here?”
“I’ve come to take you on a mission, just like the one in Ocean’s Eleven.”
“Ocean’s Eleven, I love that song!”
“It’s not a song, it’s a movie.”
“It is too a song, it goes, secret agent man, secret agent man!”
“That’s the secret agent man theme song ya dumb ass!”
“Oh. Well, I dunno about goin’ with you guys. I just got promoted to fry griller, and according to word on the streets in these parts, that’s right up there with store manager. And plus I’m not making minimum wage, now I’m making a little more than minimum wage. My pay check has jumped a whole five nickels.”
“You mean a quarter.”
“Well sorry mister class president.”
“I wasn’t president, you were.”
“Oh yeah. Well, how much money you think we’ll make off of this bust?”
“Two hundred and twenty billion dollars. That’s how much MGM Grand holds.”
“How do you know that?”
“I searched it on google over the internet.”
“Oh well why didn’t you just say so? I’m in!”
“Then get in the van!”
Sam Brown, at six foot six came running out the front door and hopped in. So the van took off once again, this time heading for California.
“Now who?”
Jake smirked.
“James Black.”
Sam and…Sam gasped.
“The James Black?”
The van traveled through Arizona and reached the southern tip of California, at a county jail.
“He’s in jail?” Sam B asked.
“What for?”
“Don’t right know yet.”
The three of them walked inside and requested James to the guard.
“Follow me,” he said.
He led them to a jail cell with one white man and a dozen Mexicans.
“We caught this one called James trying to immigrate over the border.”
“Really? James, aren’t you a legal citizen?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, but try tellin’ these guys that.”
“He’s a legal citizen,” Jake said to the guard.
“Really? Well what the hell is he doin’ in here?”
The guard opened the gate and was about to lead him out when suddenly the back wall was crashed through by a motorcycle, and Ben Mountjoy on the seat of it.
“Ben! You came! How’d you manage to crash through a foot-thick cement wall with a motorcycle?”
“I…don’t…know. But get on!”
Five of them, including a Mexican friend that James had brought along crammed onto the seat of the bike and they cruised out to the front parking lot and all then transferred to the van.
“Next stop, Shaun’s house!” Jake cried.
“Shaun who…Shaun Richardson?” Sam M asked.
“The one and only. Now a multibillionaire these days. But he sure knows his explosives.”
The van came to a stop in the middle of a private neighborhood, the neighborhood made up of a mall-sized home; Shaun’s.
Jake walked around back and found the man in his swimming pool, lying in an inflatable toy.
“Jake is that you?”
“No, I’m Sam Mountjoy,” Sam replied.
“He was talking to me, and yes it is me.”
“And it’s me too, Sam Mountjoy.”
“Sam, go busy yourself with something.”
Sam walked off muttering the words, Big Hown Brown, as he giggled every time afterward.
“What can I do for you, Jake?”
“Shaun, I want you to go on a mission with me. We’re going to rob a casino for a lot of money.”
“But I don’t need anymore money.”
“I know, but I need you on the team.”
“Yeah alright, but only because you were the only nice guy to me in high school.”
A flashback ran through Jake’s head with Jake plotting to put Shaun tied naked between the two field goal posts. Little did he know Jake had even thought of such a thing. But had it not been for Shaun, his high school football team wouldn’t have won in overtime.
Shaun got in the van and now the party was at eight. Three more. In the same town was a Radio Shack, and on this one Jake went alone. Joseph Caldera was never the most outgoing person, but he was good with electronics, and that’s all Jake needed.
The man setting up boxes of RC racers jumped nearly out of his skin.
“Yeah, what do you want? I have a belt of some faded color in karate!” He made sure to full enunciate karate.
“It’s me Jake from school, you remember me.”
“Yes,” Joseph replied in a near whisper.
“I need you to come with me on a mission.”
Jake was a little shocked. That was easy.
Nine, two more.
“You think we really need two more?” Ben asked. “Because this van only holds seven of us.”
“Hmm. Maybe we can do with just ten,” Jake said. “Why don’t you take the wheel for a while, I got some readin’ to do.”
“Oh yeah? What are you reading?”
Jake held up a yellow book that was entitled, Robbing Casinos for Dummies.
Ben nodded.
They arrived in Las Vegas at a smaller house in a private area.
“Whose house is this?” James asked.
“Cameron Nelson.”
The nine stood at the door and waited after Jake had knocked. The man answered the door and observed the company with wide eyes, nearly bulging out of their sockets.
“Hey Cam, we hope we can stay at your house for some time for a secret mission.”
“You most certainly cannot!”
“Great, lets get settled in boys.”
“What? I said that you couldn’t.”
“What’s that? He’s got beer fellas!”
And so the team was set for the “secret mission.”

Related Items


The following comments are for "Ocean's Eleven Consecutive Life Sentences"
by ArturHawking

It's a knee slapper
Thumbs up my dear friend, this story is Funny, yes with a capital F. Keep it up, and the second part is funny as well.

( Posted by: TheGreatSage [Member] On: December 5, 2004 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.