KREWL (Chapter 1) (897 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: compound_tales
Rating: 1.66 on 31 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2008-03-14 18:25:53 EDT
A Compound Tale (http://www.ubersite.com/u/Jack_McCallum/l/compound_tales)
(1) I-5 N
The eighteen-wheel tractor-trailer was moving at seventy-eight miles per hour when it hit the engine block in the fast lane.
Interstate 5 North is two lanes wide in the middle of California's Central Valley. Across the green growth of the median are two lanes going south. Harper was behind the wheel. Collins was in the passenger seat.
Harper was fiddling with the radio and trying to find a station playing country music. He was from the south, and he thought that if he had to spend another minute listening to hip-hop or pissy liberal outrage he would puke. The further north they went the more he heard leftist talk radio and nigger rap. Christ, all he wanted to hear was a little steel guitar and someone actually singing. The news was on now, some shrill reporter telling how all those protesting cunts with Code Pink were raising a ruckus in Berkeley again. Ought to rename themselves Code Dark and Shriveled Beef Curtain Jerky, Harper thought.
Collins was reading a forgotten paperback he had picked up at a Denny's in Buttonwillow, outside of Bakersfield. His face was scrunched up in a frown of concentration. The cover art showed a feminine hand turned to show off an engagement ring with a big rock, a manicured pinkie pointing skyward. The title of the novel was written in raised hot pink script. Thyme Flies. Below the title was the author's name, Margo something, and below that was a blurb; Thyme is going to get that perfect man and she's not going to wait until pigs have wings!
Almighty Christ, Harper thought, turning off the radio and glancing at the book in Collin's stubby fingers. "How can you read that shit?"
Collins looked up and looked around. "Huh?"
"That's fat girl readin' man. What's wrong with you?"
Collins slouched in his seat, tucking one finger in the book so he wouldn't loose his place. "When I'm not driving, if I'm not sleeping, I get bored. I like to read when I'm bored. Ergo, this book."
Eggo this book, Collins thought. Fuck you, man, acting all college-y and shit. If you're so damn smart how come you told me that the four-cheese omelet you got in that greasy spoon in Gallup a few days back made you 'completely consecrated?'
"Why'in'cha try readin' some men's books? Some fuckin' Zane Grey for instance."
Collins seemed to be pondering this while thinking, yeah, like you can give me reading recommendations you dipshit hayseed. Some fuh-keen Zane Grey. Right. Like Zane Grey could write anything half as good as the blowjob scene I was just reading. Damn, that broad can write. She's probably one of those old bags who fires off novels like the rest of us shit last night's supper, but it sure sounds like old Margo knows her way around a stiffy.
While Harper blew off steam about fuh-keen this and fuh-keen that and Collins wondered if a blindfolded man would enjoy a blowjob more from a clumsy young hottie or an old bag who knew how to drive a stick, neither man realized that the faceless bureaucrat who had assigned then their cover names must have been reading a book from the same publisher, Harper Collins. And because the radio was off, they didn't hear the latest of the traffic updates carried by the local CBS talk station which was alerting drivers on the I-5 North that there was a stripped down aluminum engine block in the left-hand lane near the Fink Road exit for Crow's Landing.
Behind their spacious cab was a two level trailer carrying ten vehicles. There were two Hummers and eight SUVs of varying size and make. If the windows of the vehicles on the trailer had not been tinted, people passing by in the other lane would have seen that there was someone behind the wheel of every big vehicle secured on the trailer's metal framework, and even if these passers-by had not known that what they were seeing was a violation of state and Federal transportation laws, they would have been unsettled by the fact that the people behind the wheels of those vehicles appeared to be deeply asleep, or worse.
It was a few minutes after noon on a Saturday in April. The sky was blue and free of clouds. The temperature was in the mid-sixties. If it had been early morning or late afternoon the sun might have reflected off of the engine block or thrown its shadow onto the road. Instead the engine block was illuminated in such a way that the dirty aluminum was invisible against the gray concrete of the freeway. An engine block on a California freeway was not unusual. Not at all. At any given time there can be an endless array of debris on the freeways and highways, turning them into obstacle courses in which drivers have to slalom around ladders and couches and refrigerators and cinder blocks and propane tanks.
Harper was expounding on his theory that Collins was reading a diddle-book (those books are just for ugly fat girls to get 'emselves off on, you know, reading about shirtless longhairs comin to their rescue an diddlin 'emselves with orange Cheeto-fingers) when the tractor-trailer's left front wheels hit the V6 engine block. The rig jumped and both men felt their seatbelts cutting into their laps.
Harper shouted, "Jesus fuckin Christ!" The rig's left rear wheels hit the block and jumped again and then the rig lurched to the right.
Collins heard a sharp punctuation to Harper's exclamation. Jeezuz fuh-keen PANG Crasst!
He looked in his side mirror and saw the trailer behind them gliding to the left while Harper struggled with the wheel. The whole thing had come unhitched, and all that was holding the rig and the trailer together were a few electrical cables.
The rig was fast approaching a concrete retaining wall where the highway passed under Fink Road.
The electrical cables snapped. The rig and the trailer parted ways.
The rig's tires began to disintegrate, throwing ragged shards of steel-belted rubber into the air to flip and soar like overweight bats. The entire passenger side of a little silver car, a Hyundai or some other plastic foreign job, turned into glittering mash as the rig's right wheels moved over it, the impact pushing the rig back to the left. There was a squirt of fluids. The big spill of clear stuff was gasoline. That spurt of cherry red that had caught the sunlight and was already falling into the distance was—
Hawaiian punch, Collins told himself as the rig swerved back to the left so fast he thought his neck would snap, it's just Hawaiian Punch. I'm just a driver, that's what I do, and even though we had to sign an assload of disclosures and confidentiality agreements and I heard some of the talk from the other drivers that the Compound has gotten into some nasty business, that's not my business. I'm just a long haul trucker rolling from New Mexico to Oregon. Don't wanna hurt anyone. Don't wanna get hurt.
With that last thought Collins glanced at Harper who was still struggling with the big steering wheel, and he heard Harper say, "You better make damn sure that controller thing is safe, you know how they made such a big deal—"
The rig hit the poured concrete retaining wall at an angle. There was only about fifty feet of wall, but given the mass and momentum of the big rig it was enough to clip off the left headlights with a bloom of sparks like fireworks, and shear away most of the engine cover, and dislodge the engine from its moorings and send thrown rods streaking through the air like shrapnel, and tear off the driver's side door with a metal shriek, and rip most of Harper and the dashboard and steering column from the cab, leaving Harper's right hip and leg behind, his hip held in place by his lap belt even though the shoulder belt was long gone, his foot planted firmly on the gas pedal.
Collins had both of his feet on a flat metal box; brushed steel, two handles, very heavy. That was the controller, and as the concrete wall fell behind the runaway rig the controller was the last thing on his mind.
Once it was beyond the retaining wall the rig departed the northbound lane intent on a course that angled left. It jolted across the weeds and grasses of the median like a bucking horse, and headed into two lanes on oncoming southbound traffic.
Collins had seen that coming, and had released his seatbelt as the rig had bounced across the median, thinking landing on hard-packed earth would equal fewer broken bones than slamming into asphalt. His timing wasn't worth shit. He threw himself from the cab and saw a blur of green under him become a blur of gray. He hit the road face first at around fifty miles per hour and felt his face ripped away from his skull, eyeballs exploding as eye sockets compressed and shattered, nose erased, jaw and tongue torn away and taking most of the flesh of his throat with them, before his brain shut down and he was just a bag of meat with no awareness coming apart on the highway.
The flat steel box that had been under Collins's feet skipped along the road like a square wheel, the metal corners crimping every time it struck the asphalt. The last time it hit the freeway surface it opened wide and a tangle of wires, circuit boards, lithium batteries and LCDs was strewn across the road and into the path of oncoming cars.
The rig clipped a bus (Gold Rush Country Tours was painted on the sides) leaving a slight dent on one bumper, and then veered off of the road and overturned a few times before coming to a stop. The bus continued on its way.
The trailer had rolled to a stop in the left hand lane of the northbound I-5. The forms behind the steering wheels of the vehicles in the trailer were still strapped in, still unmoving. As the steel case had skipped along the highway, the ramp at the back of the trailer had dropped down with a clang. Locks disengaged, and engines roared to life.
As cars and trucks swerved around the trailer or drivers slowed to ogle the damage, the vehicles began rolling down the metal ramps of the trailer into the left-hand lane. Traffic was already backing up in the left-hand lane. From a quarter mile back came the whoop of a California Highway Patrol car siren.
Nine vehicles from the trailer came to rest in an uneven line, engines idling. In the last vehicle, a Lexus LX, the metal track was crimped around one tire and the SUV was unable to get down the ramp. The form in the driver's seat seemed to gasp for air like a beached fish, and then grew still.
Behind the wheel of a bright yellow Hummer, a body drew a deep breath and sat upright. Bloodshot eyes studied the dash displays and then peered through the tinted windshield. The Hummer driver saw a red convertible moving slowly in the right-hand lane. The Hummer driver blinked twice, opened his mouth wide and brayed a mindless sound, and then put the big SUV in gear, following the convertible.
The drivers of the remaining nine vehicles from the trailer did the same, seeming to choose at random the cars they would follow north along Interstate Highway 5.
-
{Note: Interstate Highway 5 actually passes over all the local roads, not under them, but I was exercising the writer's prerogative to dick with reality for dramatic effect. Everything else in this story is completely true, and Thyme Flies is an awesome read. Constructive criticism welcome. Have a nice weekend. Or go fuck yourself. It's your call.}
User Reviews
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2008-03-18 10:30:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2008-03-18 00:53:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2008-03-17 23:31:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
To Bubba: I know that was a picky review, but I did it because it's Jack. Jack likes criticism on his writing, and to be honest his writing is pretty damn good, so if I want to offer some kind of critique I have to look pretty close. I don't always get so picky with reviews, but I know he appreciates it.
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 23:31:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I've tried telling mimes how much they suck but I've never gotten much of a response. But yeah, I like to get my opinion in wherever I can. I'm sure at some point I'll get sick of yammering at Jack but it hasn't happened yet.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-03-17 22:42:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
PepsiCoke: If you walk down the street and see a mime preparing his act, what do you do if you hate mimes? You turn the corner and forget the entire scenario.
Are you too stupid to do that on Uber? Apparently so. You know you will not like what Jack writes, so why not pass it by? Are you a Rob Berg who MUST get in his opinion? Just stop.
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 22:22:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-03-17 18:41:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
PepsiFeller, do you belong to Wannabe Intellectuals Anonymous? Do you actually believe every story must have a point, a 'meaning'? People like you make me sick, and I really feel sorry for you. You cannot read for enjoyment, and that's just wrong.
-------------------
Every piece of writing has some sort of purpose. The purpose of Jack's writing is to entertain. That's what he tells me and I believe him. I think he fails in making good entertainment because his stories are trite and boring. Anything that is appealing about his stories has already been done a million times and has been done better. You can post whatever the hell you want on Ubersite, so why not fuck around off the beaten path and make it interesting?
I read for enjoyment, education, or both. "The Time Machine Did It!" by John Swartzwelder is a favorite book of mine and it's purely a pleasure read. I watch a lot of brainless movies and enjoy the hell out of them. I love Will Ferrell movies and fart gags. I hate classical music and Frasier. You can call me a wannabe-intellectual or you can call me a retard. I just like what I like and I'm usually capable of telling you why I like it. Will Ferrell movies entertain me. Jack McCallum doesn't and I'm telling him why he doesn't.
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 22:00:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-03-17 11:32:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-15 01:16:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought this was fucking horrible, but I'm sure you could've guessed that. Do you have any plans to write something specifically to win over people like me that think you suck?
--
Not really. Life experience has shown me that you artsy types are pissy douchebags from the cradle to the grave. If you don't like the KIND of thing I write, that's fine. Honestly, it's a free country and everyone has different tastes. But for someone who has mentioned my Republican/Conservative leanings more than once I find it interesting that you spend so much time urging me to think more like you. Shouldn't that be my job? What's next, you gonna pick out a nice tie to match my pants?
-----------
You think I'm an "artsy type". I don't know what the fuck that means. I like art, sure. I also like things that aren't art. I personally don't have any hang-ups about the word "artist".
I don't like your stories because they don't really go anywhere or do anything cool. Whether you want to call yourself an artist or a storyteller doesn't really matter. Your stories would be better even if you just trotted out trite ideas in interesting ways. But your stories don't say anything and they don't entertain in a way that anyone hasn't been entertained before. That goes for most of the fiction written on Ubersite, which is often much worse than your stories. I guess the reasons for me singling you out are your weird persona and the fact that I think you are overpraised here.
I don't think it's possible for a Republican to write a really amazing piece of fiction, which is kinda why I want to see you try. Republicans suck at anything creative. Books, comedy, music, movies, et cetera.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-03-17 18:49:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2008-03-17 00:19:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Jaaaaaack...
This is an interesting prologue to a larger story. I had a couple of problems with it, but they are a) minor and b) probably a result of overwhelming fatigue and a headache.
I agree with whoever said that one sentence about all the sleepy people behind the transported vehicles was awkward. I too, had to re-read it to make sure I had it right.
I think you spent a little too long developing those two truck drivers -- it's always good to give all your characters their own individual traits and quirks, but it kind of went on too long. It was almost like you were trying too hard to make the one guy unlikable, but after all that effort he's dead anyway.
I thought you overdid the gore on the truck driver's deaths, especially the second guy, with the face and eyeballs peeling off. Again, these are two throwaway characters, and you're giving them these gruesome brutal deaths. It kind of sets the bar a little high for future demises -- I mean, these are the types of satisfying, gory deaths you like to give major characters (usually villains).
Actually, that's probably my main complaint with the entire piece; that you spent too much time and effort on the descriptions. I felt it got a little bogged down. It's a significant event, but the gory details of this event are completely unimportant to the development of the story; there seems to be no purpose to it. Harper and Collins are not major characters, and they don't matter in any way (as i understand it so far). It's a streamlining issue.
Anyway, that's about it -- it's good stuff, I'm just being extra critical of you because, well, it's you.
Oh, and what did you mean when you said everything else in this story was true?
================
Hail Caesar!!
May I make a comment concerning most of your reviews? Please?
OK:
Caes, you analyze WAY too much. If you'd stop picking every story to little bitty pieces, you might enjoy them more. Maybe it stems from a college class on 'critical reading'. I don't know.
Sure, I like Stephen King as much as anyone else, but I don't try to pick his works apart. I've found blatant mistakes in King's work, as well as in that of others. Holy shit, dude, you can find the same inconsistencies in Faulkner, Poe, and even Shakespeare. Just chalk it up to bad editing or the possibility that the author was fucking with you. Just read for enjoyment, not as though it were an English test.
No offense intended, dude. You are a good writer. Peace.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-03-17 18:41:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 01:56:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What kind of critiques are you willing to accept? It seems like you'll only accept criticism if it has to do with the details in your stories. Are you open to criticism of your reason for writing?
It's hard for me to understand why someone would dedicate so much of himself to a craft while completely resting on his laurels when it comes to the development of real statements. You are happy to say that you are a storyteller, not an artist. You seem to be afraid of art, as if taking your work to a new place would somehow put you in the same boat as all of the effeminate, boring, intellectuals.
Your storytelling isn't bad, but it's definitely not as honed as most of the books in the fiction section at my library. If writing is simply cathartic for you, great. But you're posting it for everyone to see so you're fair game for criticism.
You could try and become a better storyteller and maybe one day you could be as good as Stephen King. Hooray. You're another of the ten thousand other Stephen Kings out there. Or you could be content with yourself as a decent storyteller and work instead on giving your work some sort of interesting perspective. Those are the two paths you can take as a writer.
Go and write some sort of powerful right-wing fiction. I would read your posts and say why I disagreed with you, but at least it would be interesting. And we could talk about things other than why I liked Character A but I thought Character B needed to be more developed and the twist ending seemed tacked on, blah blah blah.
================
PepsiFeller, do you belong to Wannabe Intellectuals Anonymous? Do you actually believe every story must have a point, a 'meaning'? People like you make me sick, and I really feel sorry for you. You cannot read for enjoyment, and that's just wrong.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2008-03-17 12:17:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I enjoyed it, and will look forward to reading more.
I dont have a problem with developing characters before you kill them off, I actually quite like it. Gives you a feeling that there are more to these people than just write off characters. The rest has been said methinks.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-03-17 11:58:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 01:56:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Your storytelling isn't bad, but it's definitely not as honed as most of the books in the fiction section at my library. If writing is simply cathartic for you, great. But you're posting it for everyone to see so you're fair game for criticism.
--
HONED? This is uber, you idiot, the land of bandwagons and rape and fusion fusion fusion. When I drop something like this here for feedback it serves a specific purpose, but that is MY purpose and I'm not going to explain it all here. I welcome criticism of the STORY. Plot, grammar, characterizations, etc., please feel free to express opinions of all of them. But to beef about my choice of subject matter and genre is ridiculous.
There's an idea you lefty artsy push-all-the-boundaries no-censorship types have been promoting for some time now in regard to entertainment and self-expression and and it can be applied here so it is worth repeating; If you don't like my stuff, go read something else.
==========================================
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 01:56:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Your storytelling isn't bad, but it's definitely not as honed as most of the books in the fiction section at my library. If writing is simply cathartic for you, great. But you're posting it for everyone to see so you're fair game for criticism.
--
HONED? This is uber, you idiot, the land of bandwagons and rape and fusion fusion fusion. When I drop something like this here for feedback it serves a specific purpose, but that is MY purpose and I'm not going to explain my motivations to the likes of you. I welcome criticism of the STORY. Plot, grammar, characterizations, etc., please feel free to express opinions on all of them. But to beef about MY CHOICE of subject matter and genre is ridiculous. That's like me saying, yunno, James Joyce could have written some KICKASS science fiction, man, he could have blown H.G. Wells and Jules Verne outta the fuckin water. What a waste of talent that dumb mick bastard was, god damn.
There's an idea you leftist, artsy, push-all-the-boundaries, no-censorship types have been promoting for some time now in regard to entertainment and self-expression and it can be applied here so it is worth repeating; If you don't like my stuff, go read something else.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-03-17 11:37:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 01:56:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What kind of critiques are you willing to accept? It seems like you'll only accept criticism if it has to do with the details in your stories. Are you open to criticism of your reason for writing?
It's hard for me to understand why someone would dedicate so much of himself to a craft while completely resting on his laurels when it comes to the development of real statements. You are happy to say that you are a storyteller, not an artist. You seem to be afraid of art, as if taking your work to a new place would somehow put you in the same boat as all of the effeminate, boring, intellectuals.
--
I was gonna keep it a secret, but the next chapter will introduce a Mapplthorpesque character who is trying to convince his straight-laced tween son that it's okay to to pose naked for dad with an erection and a bullwhip up your ass while dad takes pictures in the home studio he built with his National Endowment for the Arts grant. The tension between the two as they argue artistic freedom versus child exploitation will be gripping reading. That artsy enough for ya?
Tell you what, let's do a trade. I'll be open to your criticism of my reason for writing if you'll be open to my criticism of your reason for breathing.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-03-17 11:34:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Re: crit on goofs grammatical and technical, thanks to everyone who caught that stuff (good feedback as always, T). The comments are appreciated. I read this again over the weekend and realized I dropped the ball quite a few times.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2008-03-17 11:32:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-15 01:16:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought this was fucking horrible, but I'm sure you could've guessed that. Do you have any plans to write something specifically to win over people like me that think you suck?
--
Not really. Life experience has shown me that you artsy types are pissy douchebags from the cradle to the grave. If you don't like the KIND of thing I write, that's fine. Honestly, it's a free country and everyone has different tastes. But for someone who has mentioned my Republican/Conservative leanings more than once I find it interesting that you spend so much time urging me to think more like you. Shouldn't that be my job? What's next, you gonna pick out a nice tie to match my pants?
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2008-03-17 10:26:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-17 01:56:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
What kind of critiques are you willing to accept? It seems like you'll only accept criticism if it has to do with the details in your stories. Are you open to criticism of your reason for writing?
It's hard for me to understand why someone would dedicate so much of himself to a craft while completely resting on his laurels when it comes to the development of real statements. You are happy to say that you are a storyteller, not an artist. You seem to be afraid of art, as if taking your work to a new place would somehow put you in the same boat as all of the effeminate, boring, intellectuals.
Your storytelling isn't bad, but it's definitely not as honed as most of the books in the fiction section at my library. If writing is simply cathartic for you, great. But you're posting it for everyone to see so you're fair game for criticism.
You could try and become a better storyteller and maybe one day you could be as good as Stephen King. Hooray. You're another of the ten thousand other Stephen Kings out there. Or you could be content with yourself as a decent storyteller and work instead on giving your work some sort of interesting perspective. Those are the two paths you can take as a writer.
Go and write some sort of powerful right-wing fiction. I would read your posts and say why I disagreed with you, but at least it would be interesting. And we could talk about things other than why I liked Character A but I thought Character B needed to be more developed and the twist ending seemed tacked on, blah blah blah.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2008-03-17 00:19:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Jaaaaaack...
This is an interesting prologue to a larger story. I had a couple of problems with it, but they are a) minor and b) probably a result of overwhelming fatigue and a headache.
I agree with whoever said that one sentence about all the sleepy people behind the transported vehicles was awkward. I too, had to re-read it to make sure I had it right.
I think you spent a little too long developing those two truck drivers -- it's always good to give all your characters their own individual traits and quirks, but it kind of went on too long. It was almost like you were trying too hard to make the one guy unlikable, but after all that effort he's dead anyway.
I thought you overdid the gore on the truck driver's deaths, especially the second guy, with the face and eyeballs peeling off. Again, these are two throwaway characters, and you're giving them these gruesome brutal deaths. It kind of sets the bar a little high for future demises -- I mean, these are the types of satisfying, gory deaths you like to give major characters (usually villains).
Actually, that's probably my main complaint with the entire piece; that you spent too much time and effort on the descriptions. I felt it got a little bogged down. It's a significant event, but the gory details of this event are completely unimportant to the development of the story; there seems to be no purpose to it. Harper and Collins are not major characters, and they don't matter in any way (as i understand it so far). It's a streamlining issue.
Anyway, that's about it -- it's good stuff, I'm just being extra critical of you because, well, it's you.
Oh, and what did you mean when you said everything else in this story was true?
Submitted by pandora (user info) at 2008-03-16 16:51:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
So they DO create yuppies in a secret underground lab somewhere. I knew it.
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2008-03-15 22:05:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I think it's a good hook, but it seems like a pretty big investment in the development of two characters just to kill them off right away. Maybe a flashback in a later chapter?
"assigned then" S/B "them."
"Note: Interstate Highway 5 actually passes over all the local roads, not under them," I don't know about that particular spot, but I can think of plenty of overcrossings on I5. A little farther north: Kettlemen City, Avenal, etc..
Submitted by HellRazer (user info) at 2008-03-15 17:24:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great use of dialect for character development.
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2008-03-15 17:15:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i've decided to up my rating and fuck myself
i hope i'm doing this right
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2008-03-15 13:24:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
this was boring but i think i will enjoy the weekend
Submitted by beer-turtle (user info) at 2008-03-15 09:42:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"That's fat girl readin' man. What's wrong with you?"
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH
Excellent line there man.... back to reading now
Submitted by Registered_S_O (user info) at 2008-03-15 02:08:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
really good story jack. You write very well.
Submitted by PepsiCoke (user info) at 2008-03-15 01:16:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought this was fucking horrible, but I'm sure you could've guessed that. Do you have any plans to write something specifically to win over people like me that think you suck?
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2008-03-14 23:54:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"If the windows of the vehicles on the trailer had not been tinted, people passing by in the other lane would have seen that there was someone behind the wheel of every big vehicle secured on the trailer's metal framework, and even if these passers-by had not known that what they were seeing was a violation of state and Federal transportation laws, they would have been unsettled by the fact that the people behind the wheels of those vehicles appeared to be deeply asleep, or worse."
I had to read that about 9 times to get it. A)It's a little awkward, B)I'm retarded.
C)I hope lots of people die this is exciting.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2008-03-14 23:26:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
They're trailer air hoses, one of which is wrapped on the outside with elec-wires that goes to a third coupling.
I hate I-5, but i do have a personal record, on it, of 6.5 hours from Bezerkly to TJ(border)
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-03-14 20:24:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Ltap (user info) at 2008-03-14 19:58:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
It was great writing, standard J McC. However, I don't entirely grasp the point of the story. Was it just supposed to be some vignette into regular life?
Submitted by Yozz (user info) at 2008-03-14 19:08:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wicked. Now to go fuck myself.....
Submitted by EmissionImpossible (user info) at 2008-03-14 18:43:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this, however i dont like the word spacious in the context it was used, no idea why, just stuck in my teeth for some reason but excellent story.