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a short story

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Joined: 15 Jan 2008
Posts: 1192
Location: PR, California

PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 7:33 am    Post subject: a short story Reply with quote

I have a creative writing class for fiction and this is the story I submitted.

Any critiques, comments, proof reading notes will be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
Sublimedo wrote:
HAHAHA silly n00b. My highly evolved excitement manifests itself beyond any erection
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Joined: 15 Jan 2008
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Location: PR, California

PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 7:35 am    Post subject: Untitled Reply with quote

Untitled (kinda long)

“I fucking trusted you…” It was all I could find to say. Her legs crossed over whoever this cocksucker was, pulling him into her, further and harder. Thrust, thrust, thrust. The Cocksucker turns his head, “Hey! Get out mang,” and thrust.

She moans rhythmically and each gasp and each high pitch “Oh” steals a heartbeat. Loudly spouting an “Ohhh, my god,” then bends her body to look who is watching this shameless kick in the nuts. Finally, She recognizes me and she yells out “Oh, My, GOD!” I slam the door. It was a birthday party for Juan. She said that she was working the night shift. What a bleak fucking hell. Walking away, I felt the grip of quiet rage stirring in the heat of my chest. My fingernails rake my face, from the top of my head and back down and up once more. Loud thumps seep from the wall, it is them fumbling and “Oh my god” stuck on loop. The boiling point is reaching close now. In a flash, my hand breaks though paint and drywall. “Sorry Juan”. Reaching the living room, I see the front door. Beside me, an unopened bottle an old friend of Señor Daniel’s on a table which I swipe. Just a sea of sweaty bodies and pheromones to swim through to get out of this imploding bullshit.

I wade through flesh, shadows and spinning colored lights. The bass vibrates the beams and feet of the house. Cutting through heat and the sweat scented dance floor, I grind against slippery steaming skin. Pushing the heavy metal gate security door, I break free into the wet welcoming air. I take in the fresh moisture and release the hot frustration that floats like smoke in the broken night sky. It does little help to quell the burning tar, its taste in my veins, neither the does the whiskey shooting down my throat like a syringe. I hope it’d help later.

“Hey!” I turn and look though the corners of my eyes. Michael’s voice, he’s sweaty and looks like he’s been glazing in an oven. Grinning like an idiot, he leans on the doorframe for support. He catches his breath.

“Weren’t you… Designating driver, man?”

“Things have changed apparently.” I turn to him and swing the bottle to my lips. He gives me perplexed look while the bottle floats for a moment, capsized.

The grin drops and he stands up right. He asks in a flat tone, “What’s wrong?”

“Jenna’s here.”


“With some random cock in Juan’s bedroom.” His eyes widen from the news and he takes a gulp of the night. The music mixes into a new song, must be a popular song, the crowd cheers.
Michael looks down and shakes his head and releases his breathe, “Fuckin hell. Lemme get my jacket.”

He turns and battles the crowd, now moving even hard to the beat. I walk to the street and go to my car. The music decrescendos with each step I take. Looking up, I soak in the radiation orange glow of the street lights. Under the light are long rows of cars crammed into whatever space they can possible force in. After struggling down twenty something houses, I find my car. It is wedged between a lifted Ford truck complete with truck nuts and the bed half way blocking a driveway, and poorly modified Civic in front wearing an obnoxiously large spoiler and cannon like pipe muffler. A sunflower yellow and a St Patrick green colors that just screams, LOOK! LOOK! IMA RACER! I don’t even have a foot of space between the both of the inconsiderate fucks.

I reach over and stretch to open the truck of my car. Footsteps creep behind me at a drum march pace. I look over my shoulder and see some shaved head tough guy barreling the concrete sidewalk with a stone chiseled face.

“Eeey, where duya think you’re goin’ with my bottle puto?”

“I need it right now… I’ll trade you for it.”

“Wha you got, huh?” he says with his head tilted at an angle. I turn back to the trunk and grab a white plastic bag and reach in. A small hand sized velvet box arcs into his hand. He raises an eyebrow as he studies the small remaining shred of my traditional dream. He opens it.

“Hey, come on homes-“

“-I don’t need it anymore.” Michael’s one eye’d old Toyota corolla rattles up beside my trapped car. The bruised princess squeaks a triple high octave C as she comes to a stop. I turn and get in. We drive off, leaving the Vato dumbfounded. Now I’m not the only one. The speedometer rises to my frustrations. Driving fast and smooth through white lines, Michael wears a calm serenity face, along with a worn out, heavy, olive green jacket, he always liked to drive. The whining hum of his car seems to relax him. The Radio is playing some techno dance crap. It exacerbates the awkward tension I emit while we drive on this lonely hour boulevard. The calm breaks as he nearly sideswipes another car. Mike can’t take it anymore. Electronic beeps bicker with him when flips on the CD mode and hits the next button a couple of times. A familiar song comes on.

I am a patient boy/ I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait…

It wraps me like father’s arm around my shoulders. I sigh and take another drink. With my head smeared against the glass, I press the automatic window button. My face stretches down, then back up, and down again. Finally the JD is kicking in.

“Where do you want to go?” Mike asks.

“Off this piece of shit planet if you can.”

“Can’t in this piece of shit car. Sorry man.”

“Straight into a brick wall?” wishing for a yes.

“Hell no man…least not yet…I finally got a number.”

“Yeah?" Good for fucking you.”

He looks over and squints at me for a moment, then says, “We going to Jim’s.”

“Fuck, I’m not hungry.”

In one breath, “We are going to Jim’s!” even louder and punches me on my arm.

“Dick.” I couldn’t even bother to punch him back.

He snickers as he jabs the wheel left and I smash up against the door. The car for a 180 spin and we end up in the middle lane, going the other way. Hell of a way to U-turn, I chuckle at his stunt in the middle of the street. Mike notices. He pushes the car for all its worth and speeds on. A couple of songs play. They speak their message, song ends, new song plays and new message, Carpe Diem to fuck the Man. My cell phone drills into my leg. I reach for it but I know who it is. Flip open and power off, forget her. I don’t want to hear it. Mike looks over at me, I can feel it coming.

“How you hanging?” Mike asks.

“I’m just capital…” I’m waiting for on him. The verse goes into the chorus. I drop my phone to the floor. “Are you going to say it?”

“Do I really need to…Plus, it would first be the first time I did?”

“Fuck! This isn’t my fault Mike!”

“Yeah but-“

“But What?? I didn’t fucking tell her to fuck some other dipshit…God dammit.” I breathe heavy and try to reset.

Mike launches the first strike, “How did you meet Jenna?”

I growl.

“You meet her at a Halloween party and you two fucked in bathroom while you were wearing a sombrero and a Zorro mask. I mean come on. She found you after the party when the pictures were posted online.”

“That shouldn’t matter. We’ve been together a year and a half.”

“How did you explain how you met? ‘Oh yeah, It was a drunken costume party’ Most couples don’t have those kinds stories of when they meet.”

I bite my lip and roll my eyes up.

“Didn’t I warn though? I told you the signs were there.”

I sit up and scoff.

“And what about Dianna?”

“Don’t, don’t. No, come on.”

“Yes! Yeeeesss! Having a ‘one time fling’ with your brother? Jesus! Your brother! Do you remember how you found that out?”

I stink into the seat.

“You found three pairs of her panties in his truck.”

“Well I had to give him credit for trying to pass them off as his and he had to get laid eventually.”

“How are they doing anyways?”

“Pretty good when I last checked. He got promotion and she went back to school now that her… uhmm… modeling is over.”

“What month is she in?”

I smirk. He laughs.

“Hey, at least you didn’t marry Jenna.”

I grimace.

We go down the list of my miserable mistakes and old high school stories as we roll into our munchie haven. We side out of the car and closed the doors synchronized as Mike rambles on and on.

“Hey, remember when you crashed into that pole.” Mike points at the yellow cement post with white paint marks.

“Oh don’t remind me. My Pops nearly flipped me on my back when he saw the damage.” I shake my head. Crossing the parking lot, tires squeal and bright halogen light blind us. We do a couple of quick leaps out of the way so we don’t find out if the bright lights has good brakes.

“What a dick.” Mike mumbles.

We hear a woman’s muffled irate shouts while cheers and hollers come from the backseat of another modified Civic, gloss black. The passenger door springs open. A black haired, bobbed topped, young girl break out of the four wheeled calamity, she screams, “YOU’RE A DICK!” so loud, her black top and black jeans shake. The backseat responds with a loud “OH!” acting as a bad commentary track or a sitcom audience. Mike takes a step towards the kitchen. I hold up my hand and he stops. A muscled, spiky haired, club Guido douche in a fancy dress shirt rises out of the window.

“Hey Babe, come on get back in the car.”

“Fuck off!”

“Come on babe, please, I won’t mess around no more.”

“I’m tired of this shit, I’m tired of you!”

“Ah, we was just having fun.” The drones bark in agreement.

“We?WE?!? It was supposed to be you and me. Not me and your stupid crew. Screw you and your fucking bros.” She turns and walks towards us, towards the door. “Every time I swear to God,” she says to herself.

“Babe! Just- babe-, well FINE then you slut!”

“Lick my cunt! You needle dick asshole!” she flips them off as she walks away.

The needle dick goes back inside and I hear the other bastards egg him on. “You gunna let this bitch talk to you like that?” “I neva let a bitch get away with that kind of bullshit.” The car peels out in the dinky parking lot. The screeching tires smoke and the car pulls around. The car pounces at us and the girl. Mike and I exchange looks. The brakes stab and stop the car five feet in front of us. I see her face she is tearing up and I see pass her armor as she sniffs and goes behind us. The meathead plows out and throws the door shut.

“Why the hell are you making a scene?” He shouts and steps closer.

My face drops off and steel, razor eyes appear. Mike face is solid stone.

“Leave me alone you shitty asshole.” Her voice cracking.

“Lay off man.” I say

“Who the hell are you to say shit? Shut up and get out my way.” He drops the 32oz can of Mickey’s. Nothing spills out. He stands straight up as best as he can.

“Listen guy. Go home.”

“Whaddya gunna do mutherfucker? Huh? NOTHING!” his shoulders cocked back, face sticking out. His goon squad piles out.

Mikes tenses up and step one foot forward and knees bend.

“You don’t want-“

He raises both arms back, “DO SOMETHING YOU PUSS-“

I crack his chin hard, releasing every ounce of frustration as I can with a straight jab. His head whips back and bounces off his spine. Then with a right cross, I nail his nose flat in his skull. My fist is wet. He flounders back but his three other buddies already run in. The first Awesome Blossom fuck throws wild haymakers. They slap and bruise the side of my arms. I jab and tag his eye him but I get sucker punched oh the side of my head. Mike tackles him sweeps Mr. Sucker punch off his feet and drives them to the ground. They roll around while the last prick tries to kick off Mike. The meaty kicks thuds flat on his ribs while he grinds fists into guy he pinned down. Smack! -Smack!-Smack! Thud. The girl yells stop but the needle dick does a soccer kick to back of Mike’s head with one hand holding his nose. Mike’s head curls into his chest. He turns to the girl, I swing out at him but I get tackled by Mr. Haymaker. We turn into piñatas.
By now the people inside are on their phones, one guys using it to record the brawl. The girl screams out she is calling the cops. By some miracle, sirens echoes in the distance. The cheap fucks shout at each other to go. They stop kicking and stomping on us and jump back in the car and high tail it out. We uncurl slowly out of our fetal positions, groaning as we do.

“Aaah… that sucked,” Mike moans, “Ow…I could use cig and a shot right about now. Oooh.”

I try getting up. Pain rings out from all over my body. They sing alphabet of damaged tissue. The girl kneels and helps me up. Mike uses the wall get up and mumbles a “What about me?”

“Oh God, are you okay?” the girl asks.

“That’s a helluva question to say.” Mike whines.

“Ah! Shit.” more pain shoots around, “I’ve been better.” I wobble to lean against the wall.

“Do you want get me to get some ice?” the siren passes by from an ambulance.

“That…and maybe some chili cheese fries.” Mike adds.

She laughs as she wipes away some tears. Stammering, “I’m so sorry, I really am. I’m sorry- I didn’t know he was like- I just met him a couple of- Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” I say.

Holding my chest with one arm, I extend the other to her, “Anthony.”

She laughs through the last the tears and takes my hand.


“…and I’m Michael.” He chimes, “Now can we go inside or something.”

“I think we’d better go. I hate depositions.” I say while the crowd inside the place watches us. Looking over at Alex, “Need a ride?”

“Sure.” she says softly. We straggle to the car.

“Good, cause you’re driving.” Mike says limping over to Alex.

“Where are we heading?” she asks.

“You pick.” He mumbles, “I haven’t had a chance to think that far,” Rubbing his fresh tumor sized lump behind his head. “Where’s that bottle?”

“Uhm, Okaaay…I think I got it”

I ask, “Alex…is that short for Alexis or Alejandra?

“No. It just Alex.”

The keys chime from accessories on the key ring when he hands them over. She meekly accepts them. My eyes slide over to her, through raw aching soreness, they scan her. Alex is a bit petite but not so much where it matters. Deep red lipstick, black eyeliner, ghostly white pale skin, her arm carries a couple of small paper cuts scars high, near hear. Hands hide her story and my eyes rise to her eyes. The tears made her mascara run slightly. She gives me a soft smile and for a moment pain isn’t so harsh. We fall in. I take shotgun while Mike takes the whole backseat and I pass the bottle over to him. He takes a drink and passes back the bottle. The bottle stares at me and my body begs for some cheap Novocain. I look at ragged jean, they look no different other a little more dirt and my black work jacket seemed to survive, escaping just with a few footprints. All things considered, not a total bullshit night. Just a few bruised muscles and egos. I look for any cuts and welts as Alex looks at the center console then with worried eyes at us.

“Hey guys…I can’t drive stick.”
Sublimedo wrote:
HAHAHA silly n00b. My highly evolved excitement manifests itself beyond any erection
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 7:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

It deserves a title, I think.
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Location: Kent, UK

PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 8:03 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

i like, i got a good sense of the characters even with the limited exposure to them, although there are some odd syntax errors and moving around from past to present tense. possibly in need of another draft.

also, proof reading errors (i only started noting them a little way through so i'll have missed some)

I stink into the seat.

I see pass her armor

They sing alphabet of damaged tissue.

Mike uses the wall get up

I wobble to lean against the wall.
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 12:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I thought that was pretty awesome. A fair few errors as Reece points out, but other than that I liked it. In a few places I couldn't focus on the dialogue and wasn't sure what was happening, but it's full of good imagery, and for that I liked it.
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Whatever's handiest

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PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 2:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good. I like the style that is set up and reinforced by the noireish metaphors.
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PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 4:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

High quality, low popularity Ecstatic Fury
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