|
 |
|
|
|
OOC: One of the most unique aspects of Western Afghanistan's infrastructure is its firm ban on all forms of public transportation. This ban results in the only effective forms of transportation being private automobile usage and walking on foot. The ban as originally created forbade all forms of mechanical transportation, in order to effectively end all pollution, in accordance with Western Afghanistan's strict environmental protection policies. However, this left only walking and horseback as the only means of transportation across the country, and this was proven clearly ineffective in short order. After this, the government legalised private motor transport (though they continue to make a point by refusing to maintenance any of the roads in the country).
However, courier services of any kind are forbidden, as they override the government's ban on private business. Taxi driving continues to be a rampant black market "problem," as it is often the only way for the poor (who do not have the financial wherewithal to buy cars for themselves) to make their way around Western Afghanistan.
This thread will chronicle the hijinks and accidents befalling the humble illegal taxi driver Wadeer al-Khozad. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
, |
 |
|
|
|
Wadeer stands outside the airport in central Herat. He can hear the calls for afternoon prayer in the distance; likely the River Mosque. He is waiting for his "brother." His "brother" is going to give him a hefty check for his ride; Wadeer doesn't know why but he doesn't care.
A tall man with a white beard, wearing sunglasses and an orange turban, rushes out the sliding doors of the airport. Two small laughing children are following him.
"Look, I'm fish!" The little boy makes puffs out his cheeks. The little girl laughs. "Glug glug glug." The little boy makes like he is choking, or desperate for air, as it were. The little girl laughs even harder.
"Sohrab, knock it off! We have to find our..." the old man mutters.
"Egh, I need water!!!" The little boy begins to flop around on the dirty pavement, remarkably fish-like. The girl is about to pass out from laughing.
"Damn it, Sohrab! Stop it!"
"I'm dying, I'm dying!"
"Ha, ha, here, I'll help you," laughs the little girl. She fills a glass of water and tosses it on the boy.
"F&$K! What the hell, Sheza!"
"Sohrab, watch your mouth!"
"She poured water on me, Grandpa!"
"So, I had acid poured on me for drawing a picture once!"
"That's because life sucked in the old days, Grandpa!"
"Sheza!"
"Grandpa's life still sucks!"
"Knock it off, both of you!"
Sohrab swings a fist at his grandfather's stomach, missing terribly at hitting the old man in the crotch.
To be continued...
OOC: Don't worry, I know that right now this is the s$#ttiest RP ever written. More to come, with some actual non-slapstick humour. If you can call this humour... |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
, |
|
|
|
|
|
OOC: Carry on, I've read much worse RPs. You're high on the Grammar scale, and I want to read. The concept of illicit taxis are almost Pratchett-esque, and I enjoy greatly. |
 |
 |
|
Falcania |
|
Winging It Since 2004 |
 |
|
|
|
Posts: 776 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
, |
|
|
|
|
With the old man in the passenger seat and his grandson in the backseat, Wadeer leaves the airport. Underneath the drivers seat there's a Grateful Dead tie-dyed T-shirt, he hands it to the old man and makes him put it on.
"I'm not wearing this, son."
"Put it on. That's the rules in my 'car.'"
"I don't think you understand. I hate the Grateful Dead and this T-shirt smells like a combination of hospital smell and rotting fried chicken."
"You put it on if you want a ride to the... where do you want me to take you?"
"This is so disgusting, I don't want to wear this, make Sohrab wear it."
"No, I don't want you to look like a well-educated wealthy guy, which I assume you are, so put on that nasty T-shirt and look a little more like me."
"What are you wearing, son? I can't tell if that kurta is orange or salmon, or used to be red but you spent too much time in a bleach factor-"
"Put that damn T-shirt on! Now where do you want me to to take you?"
The old man grudgingly puts the T-shirt on, holding his nose, and then says:
"Take me to the government complex."
Wadeer whistles.
"Well, you are an uppity-up. You on some UN mission?"
The old man is astonished.
"You mean you don't recognize me yet?"
"No, should I?"
Wadeer rounds a corner, driving through a shady district of North Herat. Then he turns to look at the man. When it hits him, he nearly crashes the car.
"P-P-Prime Minister?!" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
, |
|
|
|
|
OOC: I was enjoying these, too. I know WA's busy with AOCL, but maybe they'll continue?!
Also, I don't know if you've ever used Sunset Stats before, it comes up with some different numbers than NSEconomy did, one of those being estimated black market and a breakdown - it says that 16.37% is black market, with 4.82% being transportation (the categories add up to the 16.37%). Just thought you might be interested. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
, |
|
|
|
|
OOC
Thanks for the encouragement! I actually have been using Sunset pretty much exclusively for all my stats, though they may have changed radically since two months ago when I checked them last. And you're right, I'll get back to this after I finish the AOCL, which should be tomorrow... |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
, |
|
Track this topic
Receive email notification when a reply has been made to this topic and you are not active on the board.
Subscribe to this forum
Receive email notification when a new topic is posted in this forum and you are not active on the board.
Download / Print this Topic
Download this topic in different formats or view a printer friendly version.
[ Script Execution time: 0.0212 ] [ 13 queries used ] [ GZIP Enabled ]
|
Close Topic Options
