Latex Kittens, Psuedo Tough Guys, and Johnny Walker Black: Getting My Ass Kicked in the Land of Oz (2939 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.96 on 60 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Isaac Bickerstaff (View user info) at 2005-01-05 00:58:00 EST
If this were a movie, they would start with the bottle, man: the sexy round shoulders of syrupy fire the same color as my piss when I was strung out on the stuff, the label perfectly askew like Fifth Ave on the sauce.
And then you'd see inside, see that the bottle was empty inside except for an envelope with the words, "To: Isaac, Not This Time" printed on it in handwriting way too legible to be mine, the camera would pull back and you'd see the red bow on top like for a gift, then pan past the old photo of Jack to the anemic ass Charlie Brown Christmas tree in the corner, and you'd understand it all.
But this aint a movie so I'll start with why.
I'll tell you straight up, it's very simple, as simple as I am in fact and that's no lie.
It's all for that look.
That look on her face, when she tilts her head to one side, and gently arches one eyebrow, that look that says everything without any fucking word, cuz I aint gotta tell you that words make me nervous. That's why, cuz tell me true, what else is there? Seriously, what the fuck else is there outside from the Girl, and that look?
So I made a plan, in fact, I made a Bold Plan.
Not a great plan, not like a MacGyver plan; cuz seriously I aint really about social machinations and plans in general make me sorta nervous if they involve anything other than: lather, rinse repeat, cuz, if I gotta speak true, I tend to fuck up the steps. But this was all about the Girl, and Christmas, and a Plan.
And Christmas is a time for plans, right? Plans and lists and social machinations, so I gotta do my best. "Do my best," man. "Do my best" is almost always step one in a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions in my life.
JD however, liked the Plan. That's almost always step two. And I haven't run it past my therapist, which means I'm standing solid at step three.
And if I had ten bucks, I would bet it that none of MacGyver's plans had "spend 60 days in jail" as the triumphant final coupe, so I kept that part to myself.
But the Plan was to split town, right? There aint any bars in New York that have club fights anymore, and even if there were, they wouldn't let me play in their reindeer games, bitches. So I talked it over with my parole officer and he was straight up with me that if I left town to fight, then I would be in violation and would serve the 60 days, and if I didn't, I could get brought in to serve my remaining three years and that's fucked up to be sure. So I just made it part of the Plan. Bold, right?
Now ever since this time last year when I sold his cd changer to buy the Girl a Christmas present, JD doesn't let me borrow his car anymore, so now the two of us have pointed the Galaxy north and are grooving into Boston at top fucking speed.
See you can blame it on the Medicis, you know, dying rich and influential and all, and leaving a tomb that had to get opened at some point. Now the Girl had been accepted to be an apprentice on the Medici Archive Project which was happening soon but we couldn't afford to send her to Florence for six months, right? But c'mon, stuff like that happens once in a lifetime and can change the direction of where your shit is heading and all I can think of is that I wish I had had a change of course like that a little earlier on cuz in the here and now I'm getting weary of having my ass battered on the rocks.
And the girl hated her job at Rolling Stone, working bills for advertising jackasses and slapping hands off her ass from rock star has-beens, it was time for her to go, whether they liked it or not.
And thus were planted the seeds of my Bold Plan; see it's really all about the Girl.
The Girl and that look.
So JD and I come sliding up to The Emerald City in Boston sometime before midnight, and JD wakes me with his dulcet tones, "Heads up, Twink, time to earn your bacon."
It's like a zillion degrees below zero outside so I'm wearing a big ass plaid flannel looking thing that JD had in the back of the Galaxy and I can't help thinking that I look like a dyke on the juice who's lookin for love in all the wrong places. We shoot past the biker boy wheelies outside who slump bored looking across the leather seats of their pastel rice burners, smoking and scowling and when we hop all up inside, we are, no fucking joke, seriously underdressed.
If this were a movie, they'd play Adam Ant or Frankie just to set the 80's vibe, right? And then they'd do a close up of the bottle, the fucking bottle above the bar like the one in the opening scene...
The whole place is spinning lighthouse beams and narcotic neon glow baubles and plasticene porters with looking glass ties and we go yuckin up to the rubber-wrapped kitten in pigtails behind the bar and while I'm distracted by the Johnny Walker Black, and let's be honest it aint the first time Johnny Walker has turned my attention; but while I'm distracted JD takes a long slow stare at the pushed up glitter on the surgically enhanced guns hangin on this Manga schoolgirl bartender chippy before asking her for Frankie Morgan.
Morgan is one of those cats who always shows up in a metaphorical geyser of flame, exploding into the space with a dramatic spray of sparks and sarcasm. His eyes flicker over me in my flannel for half a breath and he turns to JD and blares, "Who's the fucking farm boy?"
JD yanks the flannel off me and barks back at Morgan and I wonder off as the two of them go cock to cock to figure out the terms of this fucking E.R. episode in the making. Legally the bar can only pay me 50 clams for a boxing match, that's how they avoid calling it a "professional" fight, and since all the deaths in Florida, most clubs have gotten the fuck out of the amateur fight business altogether. But Frankie Morgan is a sketchy cat and make no mistake, once you make something illegal, that's when the potential for real money rears its ass-ugly head, and JD had promised me five cool K, just enough to send the Girl to Italy to help crack open the Medici tomb; completely worth the 60 days I would have to serve.
I skate through the churning boil of writhing collarbones and sinuous necks, past landing gear legs in Frankenstein shoes on black pyramid platforms; the roiling skeksies bounce my weak shit from place to place like a Technicolor hummingbird in a disco cyclone until I land way the fuck in the back room next to the floor-level ring, and I use the word loosely.
As I'm leaning on the ropes, my eyes are skittering around the room like rats in the rafters and I look over and see none other than Iron Ray, swear to fuck, Iron Ray, his lanky ass is sitting backward on a chair and he's holding a glass of ice water up to his temple, and a second later I see why; motherfucker's face is so beat to shit he looks like he left a bad and bloody stain on whatever Buick rolled over his ass. But Iron Ray was a good fighter back in the day; couldn't grapple for fuck, but kicked like a mule and fast. And after we shake hands and laugh about the past for a sec, I ask him what happened. Iron just points, and all the sudden I realize that the hour has caught up with my sorry shit, cuz the 80's retro camp funk thunder just came to an end and Morgan has sauntered into the ring with his mitts in the air to quiet the squealing rave chicks and vampire goth queens, and I'm thinking Christ, whoever I'm fighting did this to Iron's puss?
But all I hear is JD who pops up next to me and drags my ass through the throngs of latex into the bathroom, "Jesus Ass-Monkeys, Zach, you fighting tonight or just hustling ass on the dance floor?" and that's his subtly nuanced way of telling me to get ready.
So I tape my hands in the bathroom and change down to trunks as JD says that there's a glitch, that Morgan is only gonna give us the five K in the event of a knockout, otherwise it's only 15 hundred, and I aint gotta do the math to know that 15 aint enough, cheating fucker. But in the major scheme, it's still all about the Girl, right?
Okay. Knockout it is.
If this were a movie, maybe they'd do this part in slow motion: JD strutting his eye-talian ass through the crowds of x sucking peacocks and Cure-haired cyber-groovers to the plywood ring with me following behind in a liquid funk of my own making: how the fuck am I gonna knock this bitch out in three rounds, why is it always "twee wounds?" Generally you work a guy for several rounds till he gets tired and sloppy, then ya pull out the big cannons. But only three rounds could be tricky, and this whole knockout thing wasn't in the Bold Plan.
Morgan announces me first, milking that mic like Jenna Jameson at her sticky finest as the words volcano up out of his gullet, "Farm boy Bickerstaff!!" and I shoot a what the fuck over to JD and he puts up a conciliatory hand, and says, "Five grand, Farm boy, deal with the humiliation on your own time."
Glad to know my dignity is such a big concern for ya there JD.
I step through the ropes and into the plywood ring and sorta stand there like a Buddhist at a slaughterhouse. You'd think that I'd be used to this kind of vitriol from a crowd by now, but nope, never gonna be.
And then the lights all change and I swear to fuck that there's a puff of smoke, a giant hissing plume of smoke that squeezes from a luminous box held alight by a guy in a Duran Duran T-shirt and tights with converse, and a couple flashlights hit the emerging figure that dances through the fog to the lilting rhapsodies of Eye of the Tiger, and you think I'm kidding, you bitches, but who could make that shit up?
The first thing I see is the black leather cowboy hat, and then the serpentine blonde dreadlocks that erupt from underneath, and then as he jumps around and dances it's the silver silk robe with the word "Wicked" embroidered on the back in flaming green stencil. He flourishes the robe away to reveal his shiny green trunks and a chest full of tattoos: the Joker, Vader, Lecter, all the cool bad guys, and I look over at JD and he's doubled the fuck over, not even trying to hide it, doubled the fuck over and holding his sides, guffawing like he's high and watching the Stooges. I hope the Girl appreciates this...
"Black Magic Hamilton!" Morgan's amplified voice shakes my spine, and then we all just stand there while Hamilton leaps around the ring, throwing punches and shuffling his feet to a few pathetically lackluster catcalls, and at one point he takes a deep fucking breath and musters all his juice to throw a woefully sad backflip. But I got plane tickets to buy so let's get this thing going, right? So when the mullet takes off his D2 T and puts on a black and white stripe, all the sudden he's the ref and okay whatever, just ring the damn thing and show me who to hit.
And right before the clang, just as JD is starting to get his breath back and wipe the tears from his eyes, Hamilton struts to his corner man who is really a pasty-white nubile cherub hottie in vinyl boy shorts and a corset, and takes from her a shot, as sure as I'm telling you this, takes from her a shot of something dark and Kentucky and as envious as I am of the sweet burn of it, I can't fucking believe what I'm seeing. Then he turns to me and cocks his head like a mantis, and I realize that he's looking right past me so I follow his gaze to Iron Ray who has pulled his table right up to the ropes and is sitting down with the ice water up to his face, all barbed wire and full of vengeance and the two of them stare at each other like lovers gone really wrong.
And they ring it.
So round one is some weak ass shit, old Hamilton may be able to dance, but he jabs like a kitten and even though he's got a pretty big right hand, I can see it coming from so far away that I could slip out for an eight dollar blow job and still be back in time to duck under that slow motion bitch. I smack him a couple times just for fun and then tire him out by throwing a bunch of wide ass haymakers for him to duck under and by the round's end clang, he's sucking hard wind.
I hit my stool and JD asks what the fuck I'm waiting for and it's a good question, kids, cuz I aint really sure, and I never know what to say to my therapist when he asks the same thing, but his question usually ends with "before you grow up" or "before you buckle down" or my favorite, "before you take some responsibility for the past?"
The next round, I think, that's what I'm waiting for you heartless fuck, I'm waiting for the next round.
At the clang I'm all up in his shit; in the first ten seconds I nail him with more steam train brutality than he has thrown in his entire lame career. And now the crowd is different, still screeching and all, but they're a little confused, not having seen a real fighter on anything but cable, and it becomes clear real fucking fast how this is gonna turn out, and it aint in their favor, so in true junkie fashion, they all switch sides and start cheering for me. And I look around sorta baffled, it's been a long cold winter since I was the good guy. Cool.
Hamilton meanwhile has covered his head and is standing there like a turtle while I hit him with some preposterously thunderous shots and while he staggers around like a junkie on the nod, he never buckles, never takes a knee, never drops his hands, and I know right off that I've lost. Guys like that, man seriously, you could wail on em with a Louisville slugger and they wouldn't go down. Now make no mistake, whores, I'm gonna beat him, but I couldn't knock this fucker out with a roofie and a five iron, and without the knockout, well then, Santa was a bitch. If this was a movie, we'd cut to the bottle on the table, the one that says "To Isaac" with the red ribbon on it.
God, I wanted to get it right this time.
When the clang sits Hamilton's ass down, he knows he's lunchmeat. He sits on his stool all sweaty and panting, and rests one hand on the ass of his corner man while she towels and waters him, and he doesn't even look at me once. Not once, cuz he's busy staring over at Iron Ray. Yeah but I kicked your ass, his gaze says, I may be getting ass hammered right now for all to see, but I worked you like a nine to five, didn't I? And Iron Ray just stares back.
But I'm the biggest jackass loser here, right? Cuz I need the knockout or this whole sad episode is just a fucking road trip. And if Hamilton's got half a brain, which is seriously a dodgy guess, but if he's got half a brain he'll dig in and wait it out, and not hafta go to the hospital tonight. I'm fucked.
At the clang, I stand up and think here we go, cuz it's all about the Girl and Christmas and a Bold Plan, right? And Hamilton, now dig this, Hamilton reaches over, takes a smoke from the pouty painted lips of his corner patchwork girl whore, and takes a long slow drag. Not even kidding, I'm standing there in the ring with my paws up, and Black Magic Hamilton is having a fucking smoke. I look over at JD and he can't believe it either and he says, "Well, Twink, we aint in Kansas anymore."
I gotta look like a moron, seriously, I'm standing there ready to scrap and that bitch is awkwardly clutching a cig in his glove and sucking away. And then he stands up and slowly grooves over to Iron Ray and I know that this is about to get bad. Hamilton walks over, stares Iron Ray in the face, and flicks the cigarette into his lap. And when Iron shoots to his feet and knocks over his table, JD is there to pull him back and sit him down and say something to him that I can't hear. And a grin creeps across Hamiltons face like a centipede on a cheesecake; he turns to me, puts up his mitts and goes, "Aight, lesgo." But what he doesn't see is Iron Ray's ice water that has spilled all over the ring, but I see it and make no mistake, kid.
My first shot snaps his head back, my second makes him take a step, and when I hook his ass into the ropes and rotate his body in the clinch, I see his foot hit the water, and slip. And I wanna call my therapist, I wanna call him up and say see that? Did ya see that right there? That's all I'm waiting for, bitch. Just waiting for the next round, cuz now the Girl is going to Italy and is gonna give me the look.
Cuz when he slips, when his foot hits the water and slides out from under him, that's when I hit Black Magic Hamilton real, real hard.
Probably the hardest you can hit a guy is with what the Chinese call kup toi, which sorta translates into "hit a guy really fucking hard." No one does it in American boxing cuz it's too slow and telegraphed, but I could phone ahead with a time and date for this fucker and Hamilton aint gonna duck it. It looks a little wild, like you're throwing a baseball and when I connect with the side of Hamilton's bean, my whole arm hurts from the impact. It doesn't hurt however, nearly as bad as Hamilton is gonna hurt when he wakes the fuck up, the tattooed pussy bitch; now someone gimme my fucking ruby slippers, I got presents to buy.
Now if this were a movie, they would cut to Christmas morning, after the grisly ass drive home with JD catatonic and drooling in the back seat, after I bought the cheapest ticket I could to Florence and put a deposit on an apartment there, and wrapped it all up in a green Christmassy envelope. And the music would be all triumphant, like an anthem to the triumph of love or some bullshit that you'd hear on the Oxygen network.
You wouldn't have to watch the movie version of me registering with my officer to turn myself in next week on January 2nd, and when the Girl had to work on Christmas morning and left me a note on the kitchen table to open, you'd hear the actress playing her reading it to me.
"Isaac," the movie actress would say as I open the empty bottle of Johnny Walker and shake out the contents, "I've got news... I just renewed my contract with the Stone for a year..." and the camera would show the actor playing me as he realized what that meant, "so I guess no vacations for a while." The actor playing me might squeeze out a tear for effect but that aint the way it went down, I just sat the fuck down on the floor and thought about her trip to Italy that wasn't gonna happen now.
"But as a signing bonus," the movie actress would continue, "I got them to agree to take you on as a journalist in training, they want you to comment on the Olympics in February!" and the camera would show the tickets fall out of the empty Johnny Walker bottle, with the words Salt Lake City, Feb 8-24 on them, and then the calendar, and me counting the days I'd be spending in prison and seeing that I wasn't gonna make it, 60 days, wasn't even gonna be close. And maybe the sound would fade out as I lay down in the middle of the floor, clutching both sets of tickets in my hand, tickets that would never be used.
And the last thing you'd hear was the actress playing the Girl, chirping excitedly as she finished up her note, "This is going to be a great year for us, Isaac, I can feel it. Merry Christmas!"
User Reviews
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2008-05-09 11:02:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Brilliant
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-26 17:43:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2007-02-12 11:18:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-12 22:53:41 (#)
Ranking: 2
The best writing on this website, at the very least.
I am insanely jealous of your talent.
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2007-01-08 07:20:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hate you.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2007-01-08 06:53:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by cshape (user info) at 2007-01-08 06:11:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
nuts.
Submitted by gina (user info) at 2006-11-26 17:28:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I think I may be the only one lame enough to actually know all the wizard of oz references in this post. Iron Ray? Patchwork Girl? Wheelies? You think you're pretty clever.
Submitted by fun_with_needles (user info) at 2006-07-12 03:22:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
goddamn
Submitted by the_lone_stranger (user info) at 2006-07-12 02:44:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Average_Dan (user info) at 2006-06-23 02:18:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This is absolutely brilliant. Why have I never read any of your stuff?
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2006-06-23 01:06:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-11-25 13:11:53 (#)
Ranking: 2
You're similies are beyond awesome.
Not kidding; this is the greatest writing I can ever remember reading anywhere. I've stayed at work for over an hour to read shit I've already read.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
No, but really. This is better than most of my favorite books.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-17 06:56:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm sure I have rated this before
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-03-13 00:09:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-12 22:53:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The best writing on this website, at the very least.
I am insanely jealous of your talent.
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-03-11 08:19:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Fucking awesome.
Submitted by Douglas (user info) at 2006-01-11 12:32:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-11-25 13:11:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You're similies are beyond awesome.
Not kidding; this is the greatest writing I can ever remember reading anywhere. I've stayed at work for over an hour to read shit I've already read.
Submitted by Pacifist248 (user info) at 2005-06-29 04:56:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-05-26 20:12:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2005-04-14 16:15:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by snarf (user info) at 2005-03-31 04:16:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
in awe of your talent
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-03-24 12:34:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't decide which story of your's is the best. It's the imagery, it just sucks you in.
Submitted by Adjomak (user info) at 2005-03-24 10:36:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Kicker of all ass. What else needs to be said?
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2005-03-04 11:24:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That is some fucking stone cold irony right there, man.
If you made a movie about your life, I'd pay to see it.
Submitted by Jungle_Jimanee (user info) at 2005-02-16 11:29:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Goes to show that including partners in your plans is essential.
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2005-02-16 08:38:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I just read the AC one and have to go back to the beginning, how did I miss these?
Submitted by engine13 (user info) at 2005-01-17 18:49:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I love your stuff. It's hard for me to get into with the writing style, but once I do I can't stop reading.
Submitted by STIXS (user info) at 2005-01-16 20:06:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it--it certainly kept my attention--but the language in it is a bit distracting. However, once you get into the story, the language barrier goes away completely. Very nice twists and turns, I might add. Very clever use of Swift's writing name, he's one of my favorite authors, along with Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Kurt Vonnegut.
Submitted by screamfeeder (user info) at 2005-01-16 19:20:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Chuck Palaniuk called; he wants to borrow more metaphors.
I'd go gay for you brother.
Submitted by Divinity (user info) at 2005-01-14 00:02:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Brilliant.
Submitted by Phallic_Cymbals (user info) at 2005-01-13 23:38:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Boom.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-01-06 16:29:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm in awe
Submitted by transhuman (user info) at 2005-01-05 17:32:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent!
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2005-01-05 16:21:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
aces, man. fucking aces.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-01-05 16:11:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good. Mighty good.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2005-01-05 15:59:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-01-05 15:24:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Again, a really great story about a captivating character.
Your strength I think lies in your characterization and in your use of metaphor/similes. Some great, great stuff in there.
However, on occassion I feel you get too carried away. There were a couple of paragraphs that I had to re-read because I got a little lost, probably because you keep referring to people or objects in a different manner every time. At times, your sentences ramble on and get hard to follow.
I'm only being critical because your stuff is so good, not too many people say anything negative...and how else are you going to get better? Regardless, this is definitely the best series I've ever seen on Uber. Uh, in my one month here.
Submitted by Smoothe (user info) at 2005-01-05 12:57:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Well fucking written, in a sarcastic nihilistic Chuck Palanhiuk kind of way. And shit.
Submitted by big_wigger (user info) at 2005-01-05 12:14:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
your a really great visual writer and the characters are so well concieved but not overly described so that I instantly conjure up a face to put with them which to me is a sure sign that you have pulled the reader into your world.
+fucking 2 again!
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-01-05 11:46:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
.....
PLUS
FUCKING
TWO
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2005-01-05 10:47:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This guy's a great writer...full of shit, but a great writer nonetheless.
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-01-05 10:35:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
....
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-01-05 10:15:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This is not the type of story I enjoy, but I thuroughly enjoyed this one.
Submitted by garyhal (user info) at 2005-01-05 09:17:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Aaaaaahhh, great writing. Man... poor old Farm Boy.
Submitted by comicbookguy (user info) at 2005-01-05 08:36:58 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by CJRipley (user info) at 2005-01-05 08:18:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Great AM read
Submitted by Badlands (user info) at 2005-01-05 08:15:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This is fantastic storytelling.
Wasn't "Isaac Bickerstaff" a psuedonymn of Johnathon Swift's back in the 1700's? Hmmm...
Submitted by Flying_buttmonkey (user info) at 2005-01-05 07:47:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
My initial WTF I'M NOT READING ALL THAT faded into the distance.
This is marvellous work. Even the smattering of 'cuz's (which make my eye twitch) went forgiven for lending the character credence. A well deserved +2, I'll be keeping my eye out for future posts I think.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2005-01-05 07:17:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuck yeah.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2005-01-05 05:29:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Upto your usual high quality.
Keep them coming.
-Dave
Submitted by Ex_Lux_Astrum (user info) at 2005-01-05 04:50:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i smelled sweat and smoke, old beer and blood.
sweet.
Submitted by creep_firebombing (user info) at 2005-01-05 04:40:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nicely done.
Submitted by Ainkara (user info) at 2005-01-05 02:47:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Rawrg (user info) at 2005-01-05 02:46:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Maybe it's my ADD, but I really just can't get into this at all. I don't understand why the character is doing what he's doing other than the fact that he's a meathead, and something about some girl he wants that needs money to open up a tomb. I just can't understand a lot of things in the story, and while the details aren't really that important, there's too much fog. When the narrator is also the main character, he needs to be appealing on some level, but I personally can't find anything appealing about the main character because his voice sounds like that of an idiot. Maybe that's what you were going for, I don't know.
Structure-wise, yes, he rambles a LOT at the beginning, and that makes it really hard to follow. Otherwise, the story has a lot of good writing techniques used throughout as far as indirect descriptions and even some clever use of referencing the past out of sequence. All in all, I think you are a good writer and that this story just doesn't work for me. This +1 is for form and technique, but I can't give a +2 because the body of the story didn't appeal to me. I'll go back and read more of your stuff now though, good post.
Submitted by dedre (user info) at 2005-01-05 01:36:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn well, it kept my attention!
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-01-05 01:25:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
fucking good
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-01-05 01:11:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
It was maybe a bit choppy at the start, but it started to flow real well after the first few paragraphs.
If you don't have a book deal/agent, you should. This really is great writing.
Submitted by GodLovesALittleLovin (user info) at 2005-01-05 01:07:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
You babble too much in the beginning. cuz cuz cuz i don't know.
Submitted by Kamargo (user info) at 2005-01-05 01:04:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent post my brother, as usual
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-01-05 01:01:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You are aquiring an Uber following. This is awesome writing.