[June Challenge] The Honeymoon - 1598 words (revised posting of "not exactly romeo and juliet")
Amanda Tarr
Maybe this title isn't any better. My opinion of this rewrite is that
it gained some and lost some. Hopefully the gained outweighs the lost.
Feedback appreciated if you can stand to read it again!
Amanda
---
The Honeymoon
"What have I done?" whispered Darren. He sat on the faded hood of his
'75 Plymouth, twisting the gold band round his ring finger. The car
was parked in some scrubby bushes along a dusty set of tracks. It
could have been any desert road, winding off with no particular
destination. His eyes panned across the barren landscape and back
through the windshield. The car's passenger sat slumped against the
window, a paper bag covering her head. Darren dropped his head into
his hands.
He'd been awake for an hour or so, pulled to consciousness by the
shooting pains behind his eyes. The first thing he saw was a note
taped to his steering wheel. "Happy honeymoon," it read, "hope you've
figured out what to do with your new wife when I get back in a couple
days. Good luck, by the way we siphoned your gas. Nudge! Nudge!
-Jerry"
Huh?, thought Darren. He rolled his head to his left. With the
hangover, it took a while for the scene to register. He saw nothing
but scorched earth and an occasional hardy bush, stretching out to a
distant purple ridgeline. He squinted out at the afternoon sun, trying
to put some sense into the situation.
A soft sigh from the passenger seat shattered Darren's haze. He
snapped his head to the right and found himself face to face with a
gorgeous sleeping woman.
Darren shrieked. He threw himself backwards and away from her,
knocking the back of his head against the window. Frantic, he fumbled
for the door handle, pulling so hard that the weary plastic snapped
off in his hand. He tumbled out backwards, carrying his motion into a
roll. Back on his hands and knees, he scrambled for the back of the
car and crouched, shaking.
"Oh god, oh god," he whispered. How did he end up in the middle of
nowhere, and far worse, how had that woman ended up in his car? Just
thinking of the beautiful creature in the front seat sent him into
paroxysms of fear. Since the sixth grade, he had avoided all contact
with women. The day he noticed that the girl at the adjacent locker
had small budding breasts, he fainted right there in the hall. He
ditched school every day after that, and his parents finally started
home-school.
Even though the thought of seeing the woman again threatened to send
him into hysterics, Darren knew it was impossible hide under the rear
bumper for the next two days. Suddenly, he remembered the grocery bags
in the rear foot well. A bag would at least serve as a temporary
solution while he worked out a plan. He crept forward and inched the
rear door open, slipping one from the top of the stack. Eyes closed,
he felt his way back into the driver's seat. His fumbling fingers
located her face and wrapped back through her wavy hair, gingerly
pulling her head forward. After slipping the bag down to her
shoulders, he opened an eye halfway, regarding his work. It was
serviceable.
Darren exhaled and relaxed back into the driver's seat, placing his
hands up on the wheel. Then the unexpected glint off the gold band
caught his eye. Darren gagged as the memories surged back in a wave.
He rolled out of the car and dry-heaved in the dust. Honeymoon... it
was no joke.
***
Home-school doesn't work for college, and so Darren found himself in
his first week at the University of Nevada, Reno. He figured he could
avoid most encounters with women by skipping lectures, and possibly
requesting permission to take tests in the professors' offices. He
was, of course, in an all-male dorm, and to celebrate their first
college weekend, his neighbors invited him to Vegas.
"Not into that sort of thing," Darren told them.
"Come on, just the guys for a whole weekend in Vegas. Let's do it
man," said Jerry, his roommate. Darren relented.
After five beers in the hotel room, Darren didn't pay much attention
to their destination or the fake id he was handed. Five beers were
definitely not enough to prepare him for the strip club, however. When
the pretty hostess, skirt barely covering her rear, swayed up to greet
them in the foyer, Darren went cold from the inside out. His head
swam, and he nearly passed out right there in the entryway.
"Jesus Christ, bro," said Jerry as Darren fell against him. "You
loaded already?"
"No, I'm okay," Darren said, looking at his feet.
The men entered the smoky room and filed to a round corner table.
Darren took a seat facing away from the room, hoping to forget what
was behind him. He stared at the table when the waitress came,
ordering two shots of tequila. Four shots after that, she was a blur,
and he was able to look in her general direction as he ordered
another.
"...Darren a lap dance," Darren lifted his head heavily from the
table.
He was on a red couch, behind some heavy velvet curtain. To his
horror, a woman slunk into the room, making some strange purring
noises. His muscles refused the call to flee, and he slumped back in
his chair. He fought back tears as he looked at the ceiling.
"Why dontcha look at me, darlin'?" moaned the woman, now hovering over
him.
"Can't... you're too... beautiful. Please no, I can't take it," And
Darren blacked out.
"... here to witness this union?"
"Do you take this woman..."
Laughing voices echoing through a room.
"...man and wife..."
***
Darren rose to his feet and went to sit on the hood. He sat staring at
the horizon, absently twisting the ring. Just as he was wondering if
there was any chance he could convince her to keep the bag on her head
at least until Jerry got back, he heard a rustle.
"What the fuck?" came her voice. "What was this thing doing on my
head?"
Darren closed his eyes and went back to the open door.
"Hi," he said, "I'm sure you're upset, but it's just that I can't look
at you. I'll faint."
"Well Jesus Christ, I understand why you couldn't look last night!"
she said.
"What?"
"Your friends told me all about how you've been watching me for
months. They said that you decided you were in love with me, and that
you were going to tell me during the lap dance. They said you were so
scared that you couldn't look me in the eye. You were so drunk that
you passed out. Not very smooth dude."
"But I.."
"Oh Jesus, I guess I kinda hoped you remembered some of this. So then
they told me you wanted to get married. I was kinda like 'Uh, no
thanks freaks.' But then they wouldn't leave me alone. They were
begging and shit. Said that you had this idea of love at first sight.
They showed me your wallet, and all that money you had to buy me a
ring. I dunno, I guess I just figured what the hell. I guess it was
more interesting than another night of work, and maybe I hoped it was
real.
"So like, I dunno, we can get it annulled if you want. I don't really
give a fuck. We could give it a go, too, I guess. But this shit with
the bag, it kinda wigs me out dude. I kinda thought, well, he might be
cool. I ain't into weirdos though, so if the bag was so you could
surprise me or something, time to drop the innocent act."
Before Darren could manage a response, a car came up from behind,
trailing a plume of throat clogging dust.
"Hey hey!" called Jerry, "Just joking about the two days. Did you love
birds get it on yet? Not many guys get to do it with a stripper."
"You little cocksucker!" said the girl. "If all that shit last night
was a lie, I'll personally tear your balls off and wrap them around
your antennae."
"Shut up you little bitch!" said Jerry. "Hey Darren, good one, huh?
Sorry bro, all in fun. Annulment is way easy." He started laughing.
Darren stood paralyzed as the girl slammed her car door and stalked
over to Jerry's window.
"Alright asshole, here's the beginning of what you deserve." Darren
heard a loud smack.
"Why you little whore!" Jerry's door opened.
The reality of the situation hit Darren like a brick. Hot anger
smashed into his mind, ejecting the paralyzing fear like a crowbar.
Sweat sprung from his pores. No one with so little respect for other
people's feelings should be able to get away with it.
Darren turned on his heels, and strode up behind Jerry. He had the
woman by the upper arm, and was just pulling back to slap her when
Darren grabbed his raised arm. He hauled down and twisted it behind
Jerry's back. The woman stumbled backwards.
"Yeah, kick his ass!" she yelled.
Darren pushed Jerry forward, and he tripped and went down on his
knees. Darren pulled back his sneakered foot, giving Jerry a sound
kick in the ribs. Twice.
"You will not ever speak to me again. You will apologize to her right
now, or I will kick you again."
Jerry coughed, and Darren kicked again, harder.
"Sssorry," Jerry sputtered.
"Now get out of here," Darren said, "or I'll keep kicking you until
you cough blood."
Jerry scrambled into his car and fishtailed off towards the distant
mountains.
Darren looked up at his wife's face.
"So what's your name?" he asked.
virginia walters
Mickey Doolin was afraid of water. Any psychiatrist would
call it a phobia, but Mickey called it just a good
healthy respect for a superior force. It stemmed,
according to Mama, from that time when he was six months
old. She had put water in the tub, dumped in all his
toys, then set him in the water, right on top of a rubber
ducky that squawked..yyaaaaccckkk. He fantasized that he
could still hear it, but probably it was just from
hearing his mother tell it so many times.
From that moment on, according to Mama, he never sat
down in the water. She carried him into the shower until
he was three (which might account for a couple of his
other obsessions) when his father put his foot down. From
then until he was six, Mama patiently sat on the closed
toilet seat while he showered, being sure to soap and
rinse all the not so secret parts of his body. Then she
wrapped him in a towel and sorrowed with him that he
couldn't bear to get into the tub.
From seven to ten, it was swimming lessons every
summer at the 'Y', where he sat at the edge of the pool
and watched the other boys splashing and ducking one
another. He grimaced at the memory. Putting his head
under water was not even in his imagination. Mama watched
from the bleachers, dabbing her eyes daintily with a
linen hanky and sighing audibly.
From ages ten to thirteen, it was summer camp, where
he excelled in horseback riding and marksmanship, sports
he took up to prove to his buddies he was not a wimp. But
when the counselors tried to cajole him to wade out to
his knees in the lake, he went limp at the water's edge
and had to be carried back to the tent. They told Mama
his was a hopeless case and gave up trying to make him
swim.
And finally so did Mama. When he started high school
she tearfully acquiesed that while he would never know
the exquisite pleasures of being embraced and caressed by
water, she would not try to change his feelings anymore.
But Mickey knew that was not true. Mama had been one of
the original Water Babies, a band of swimmers that had
filled a niche in the years between Esther Williams and
Olympics Synchronized swimming teams. She had been very
good at her sport, even if it was rather obscure, and
once someone even told her she could have been the next
Esther Williams, if indeed there had been a 'next' Esther
Williams.
The coercion (that was how Mickey thought of it
during his teenage years) simply became more subtle. His
folks put a pool in the back yard, and the family made
regular excursions to the beach, where he learned to play
volley ball, but stayed away from the waves. For High
School Graduation they gave him a Caribbean Cruise. He
stayed in his cabin and read the entire Lord of the Rings
Trilogy before disembarking in Florida. And through it
all, he stayed out of the water, much to Mama's oft-
displayed dismay and grief.
Mickey attended college in Arizona, and after Mama
died, when he was 25, he moved permanently to the desert.
The past ten years had been unbesmirched by the need to
go into the water. Dad visited a couple times a year and
never mentioned Mickey's phobia.
So what was he doing falling madly in love with Melba
Joy Minsker whose dream was to learn to SCUBA dive? Melba
Joy had been born on the desert, not come to it late in
life like he had...Well, maybe 25 wasn't late in life,
but his life had definitely been formed by forces other
than the hot, sandy wide open spaces of Arizona. Here he
was, driving across ninety miles of desolate wilderness
in the first gully washer rain storm in ten years to meet
Melba Joy at the only dive shop within a hundred miles so
THEY could learn to dive.
He hadn't told her that he was afraid of water. It
had never come up. The few times the subject of swimming
arose, he had an excuse for not participating. He had
never really seen the need to explain his aversion to
water as anything but a beverage and now he was going to
have to face it full on. And he loved her so much, but he
wasn't sure she loved him enough that this little quirk
in his personality wouldn't cool her affection.
Especially since she had her heart set on diving on the
Great Barrier Reef in Australia.
And that was probably his fault, too. He had always
wanted to visit Australia and the Great Red Interior
desert. When he mentioned their taking a trip together
and his dream of Australia, she immediately told him HER
dream had always been to learn to SCUBA dive (where did
desert kids get these wild ideas, anyway) and the Great
Barrier Reef was, in fact, the greatest diving experience
in the world, and she'd been reading all about it and
they could learn to dive right here in Arizona. Before he
could say "I'm afraid of water" she had the plans made
and was driving away, expecting him to follow. According
to Mama, he'd never been one for improvisation, and he
hadn't even brought a change of clothes.
It hadn't started raining until about halfway into
the trip. Melba Joy had sped away and he only saw her
brake lights once as she crossed a railroad crossing. She
was so much more adventuresome than he was. It probably
had to do with age. Here he was, already 35 and she
wasn't quite 30 yet. He remembered that five years ago,
he probably would have driven a hundred miles to watch a
horse race, or meet a friend, but now it seemed like a
lot of trouble, and especially to keep an appointment
where he had to meet his phobia (there! he'd said the
word) head on.
The rain was sheeting the windshield so hard the
wipers could hardly keep up, and Mickey could see streams
running alongside the highway. So far none of the water
dips had been full, but the last one had some standing
puddles in the bottom. He hoped they could make the final
forty or so miles before dark. Melba Joy probably would,
she must be miles ahead. He just didn't want to spend a
long cold, desert night waiting for the rain to quit.
One thing about desert driving, you could see for a
long distance and up ahead Mickey saw cars stopped with
people mingling around. "Probably a dry creek full over
the road, finally,' he thought. As he drew nearer he saw
a little pink car swirling in the middle of the gully.
Melba Joy! No one else in the western states had a car
like that one: an old pastel pink VW Bug with eye lashes
painted above the headlights. He saw the eyes swirl past
as he jumped from his car.
"Where's the driver?" he asked the nearest person.
"Don't know," was the reply.
Without a thought except Melba Joy, Mickey plunged
into the dip, grabbing the door handle as it swung by. He
slipped on the wet blacktop and the force of the water
pushed his head under.
"Mickey! What are you doing?"
"Mama? I'm trying to learn to like the water."
"Mickey, you're afraid of water, remember? I ruined
your life when you were six months old."
"Mama, I'm eight now. I need to be able to swim like
the other kids."
"Well, you won't learn in the bath tub. Here get out
now."
"But Mama, when will I learn to not be afraid?"
"Mickey, you'll always be afraid of water. It's my
fault you'll never know the joy that I did in the water."
"But, Mama.. I want to."
"No, Mickey, never. Here let Mama dry you with the
big towel."
Mickey's head came above the water, and someone
grabbed his arm.
"You o.k., Buddy?" asked his rescuer.
Mickey was still in shock. The feel of the water
swirling around his knees then closing over his head as
he slipped when the twirling car swept him around almost
panicked him again. And the vision right there in full
color: Mama's turquoise wrap, the big red towel, the sea
shells on the bathroom wall paper; he remembered it all.
And Mama telling him he'd always be afraid. What was that
about?
"Where's Melba Joy? The driver of this car?"
"I'm here, Mickey. Oh! You're so brave! You jumped
into the dip because you thought I was still in the car?
Oh Mickey!" Melba Joy wrapped her arms around him and
guided him to his car.
"I have to tell you something, Honey," He said to her
bewteen teeth chatterings.
"Oh, Mickey, I love you, too. You don't need to tell
me anything."
He smiled. "That too, Melba Joy, that too. But this
might make a difference to you. I.." but the words didn't
come out like he thought: "..I can't swim."
"Silly! I know that!" she laughed. "You're the only
person on the desert who never goes near the water." She
squeezed him again.
And suddenly Mickey thought, "I can do it, Mama! You
didn't ruin my life even though you worked hard at it.
I'm not afraid of the water!" But his fingers were
crossed as he kissed Melba Joy and hugged her close.
virginia walters
vew
Huw Lyan Thomas
news:1f6ae4b1.02061...@posting.google.com...
> Maybe this title isn't any better. My opinion of this rewrite is that
> it gained some and lost some. Hopefully the gained outweighs the lost.
> Feedback appreciated if you can stand to read it again!
I agree, it's gained some and lost some.
His innocence and vulnerability came across much more strongly in the first
one, which I really liked. The romance aspect of it was stronger, too.
Making him a tough-guy actually made him weaker, if you see what I mean.
The re-write explains things better, and is perhaps more believable (though
I don't buy the lead-up to the wedding, and perhaps it's better to gloss
over these things :-) after all this is a fairy tale, isn't it?
All in all, I preferred the freshness of the first one.
--
Quadpus
>
> Mickey Doolin was afraid of water. Any psychiatrist would
> call it a phobia, but Mickey called it just a good
> healthy respect for a superior force. It stemmed,
> according to Mama, from that time when he was six months
> old. She had put water in the tub, dumped in all his
> toys, then set him in the water, right on top of a rubber
> ducky that squawked..yyaaaaccckkk. He fantasized that he
> could still hear it, but probably it was just from
> hearing his mother tell it so many times.
Er...he's afraid of water because he sat on a rubber duck?
> From that moment on, according to Mama, he never sat
> down in the water. She carried him into the shower until
> he was three (which might account for a couple of his
> other obsessions)
!
> From seven to ten, it was swimming lessons every
> summer at the 'Y', where he sat at the edge of the pool
> and watched the other boys splashing and ducking one
> another. He grimaced at the memory. Putting his head
> under water was not even in his imagination. Mama watched
> from the bleachers, dabbing her eyes daintily with a
> linen hanky and sighing audibly.
I think I like the style of your narrator's voice. It is, for lack
of a better word, quirky.
> And that was probably his fault, too. He had always
> wanted to visit Australia and the Great Red Interior
> desert. When he mentioned their taking a trip together
> and his dream of Australia, she immediately told him HER
> dream had always been to learn to SCUBA dive (where did
> desert kids get these wild ideas, anyway)
Question mark after anyway.
> The rain was sheeting the windshield so hard the
> wipers could hardly keep up, and Mickey could see streams
> running alongside the highway. So far none of the water
> dips had been full, but the last one had some standing
> puddles in the bottom. He hoped they could make the final
> forty or so miles before dark. Melba Joy probably would,
> she must be miles ahead. He just didn't want to spend a
> long cold, desert night waiting for the rain to quit.
Long, cold desert...
> One thing about desert driving, you could see for a
> long distance and up ahead Mickey saw cars stopped with
> people mingling around. "Probably a dry creek full over
> the road, finally,' he thought.
Not sure exactly what Mickey's thought means, there. Double quote
after finally.
> "But Mama, when will I learn to not be afraid?"
> "Mickey, you'll always be afraid of water. It's my
> fault you'll never know the joy that I did in the water."
> "But, Mama.. I want to."
> "No, Mickey, never. Here let Mama dry you with the
> big towel."
Heh. Very funny little flashback.
> And suddenly Mickey thought, "I can do it, Mama! You
> didn't ruin my life even though you worked hard at it.
> I'm not afraid of the water!" But his fingers were
> crossed as he kissed Melba Joy and hugged her close.
Wonderful story, Virginia. I really liked your informal, personable
style of writing, and all the little details of character. I'm not
the judge, but this was one of my favorite June Challenge entries.
Alaric
Since the sixth grade, he had avoided all contact
with women. The day he noticed that the girl at the adjacent locker
had small budding breasts, he fainted right there in the hall. He
ditched school every day after that, and his parents finally started
home-school.
Home-school doesn't work for college, and so Darren found himself in
his first week at the University of Nevada, Reno. He figured he could
avoid most encounters with women by skipping lectures, and possibly
requesting permission to take tests in the professors' offices. He
was, of course, in an all-male dorm, and to celebrate their first
college weekend, his neighbors invited him to Vegas.
The men entered the smoky room and filed to a round corner table.
Darren took a seat facing away from the room, hoping to forget what
was behind him. He stared at the table when the waitress came,
ordering two shots of tequila. Four shots after that, she was a blur,
and he was able to look in her general direction as he ordered
another.
"What the fuck?" came her voice. "What was this thing doing on my
head?"
I dunno, I guess I just figured what the hell. I guess it was
more interesting than another night of work, and maybe I hoped it was
real.
"If all that shit last night
was a lie, I'll personally tear your balls off and wrap them around
your antennae."
Darren pushed Jerry forward, and he tripped and went down on his
knees. Darren pulled back his sneakered foot, giving Jerry a sound
kick in the ribs. Twice.
"So what's your name?" he asked.
Woman reaction explanation's good, marriage explanation's good. Fine story
now. Love the girl's attitude, and the fight. Balls round the antennae? Heh.
Alaric
and the car stands out as a bit of a device, but the characters are
realistic, and the phobia generation is a good one.
You need to put hard breaks between your paragraphs.
"virginia walters" <vewa...@alaska.net> wrote in message
news:3D10F7...@alaska.net...
Quadpus
>
> Maybe this title isn't any better. My opinion of this rewrite is that
> it gained some and lost some. Hopefully the gained outweighs the lost.
> Feedback appreciated if you can stand to read it again!
I hate to say it, Amanda, but I really liked the first version better.
In a sense, it works better to have the stripper marry Darren without
any explanation-- it's going to be implausible any way you slice it,
so let the reader's imagination do the work. If you supply a reason
(i.e. Darren's friends cajoling her), then the reader has something
substantive to test against their experience of reality.
I also liked the reference to Darren's Christian upbringing in the
first version. It made his decision to stand by his wife at the end
more understandable.
Anyway, I'd hate to discourage people from taking the criticism they
receive on AFO seriously, but this isn't the first time I've seen a
story lose some of its original sparkle after undergoing a revision.
Learning how to filter suggestions is all part of the writing process,
I guess.
Alaric
Since the sixth grade, he had avoided all contact
with women. The day he noticed that the girl at the adjacent locker
had small budding breasts, he fainted right there in the hall. He
ditched school every day after that, and his parents finally started
home-school.
Home-school doesn't work for college, and so Darren found himself in
his first week at the University of Nevada, Reno. He figured he could
avoid most encounters with women by skipping lectures, and possibly
requesting permission to take tests in the professors' offices. He
was, of course, in an all-male dorm, and to celebrate their first
college weekend, his neighbors invited him to Vegas.
The men entered the smoky room and filed to a round corner table.
Darren took a seat facing away from the room, hoping to forget what
was behind him. He stared at the table when the waitress came,
ordering two shots of tequila. Four shots after that, she was a blur,
and he was able to look in her general direction as he ordered
another.
";What the fuck?"; came her voice. ";What was this thing doing on my
head?";
I dunno, I guess I just figured what the hell. I guess it was
more interesting than another night of work, and maybe I hoped it was
real.
";If all that shit last night
was a lie, I'll personally tear your balls off and wrap them around
your antennae.";
Darren pushed Jerry forward, and he tripped and went down on his
knees. Darren pulled back his sneakered foot, giving Jerry a sound
kick in the ribs. Twice.
";So what's your name?"; he asked.
Alaric
and the car stands out as a bit of a device, but the characters are
realistic, and the phobia generation is a good one.
"virginia walters" <vewa...@alaska.net> wrote in message
news:3D10F7...@alaska.net...
Amanda Tarr
> "Amanda Tarr" <at...@soe.sony.com> wrote in message
> news:1f6ae4b1.02061...@posting.google.com...
>
> > Maybe this title isn't any better. My opinion of this rewrite is that
> > it gained some and lost some. Hopefully the gained outweighs the lost.
> > Feedback appreciated if you can stand to read it again!
>
> I agree, it's gained some and lost some.
>
> His innocence and vulnerability came across much more strongly in the first
> one, which I really liked. The romance aspect of it was stronger, too.
> Making him a tough-guy actually made him weaker, if you see what I mean.
Thanks Huw, I tend to agree. I think, at this point, I'll have to
consider rewriting this outside of the challenge requirements. Or wait
until I have enough practice to pack what I really want to say into
those little 1600 words.
Thanks again for reading,
Amanda
virginia walters
I hoped the absurdity of a water phobia from sitting on the rubber ducky
would become apparent.
And thank you for the vote of confidence for this, my first submission
to AFO.
Quadpus wrote:
<snip>
virginia walters
Would the car scene have been less contrived if I had mentioned the car
earlier? Like when Melba Joy first takes off on the drive?
Alaric
reference would help.
"virginia walters" <vewa...@alaska.net> wrote in message
news:3D1426...@alaska.net...
hannah savannah at the pianah
>exactly romeo and juliet")
>From: at...@soe.sony.com (Amanda Tarr)
>Date: 19/06/02 20:34 GMT Daylight Time
>The Honeymoon
>
>"What have I done?" whispered Darren. He sat on the faded hood of his
>'75 Plymouth, twisting the gold band round his ring finger. The car
>was parked in some scrubby bushes along a dusty set of tracks. It
>could have been any desert road
>winding off with no particular
>destination. His eyes panned across the barren landscape and back
>through the windshield. The car's passenger sat slumped against the
>window, a paper bag covering her head. Darren dropped his head into
>his hands.
yeah--you're gonna make it OK (didn't I like your work a few messages ago/I
think?)
it's titled honeymoon
the passenger has a bag over her/his head--is that his new young wife--has he
killed her or is she having a panic attack and wearing the bag to stop
hyperventilation--I dunno but I WANT to know and that's what the lead is all
about and so few people seem to get it.
>He'd been awake for an hour or so, pulled to consciousness by the
>shooting pains behind his eyes. The first thing he saw was a note
>taped to his steering wheel. "Happy honeymoon," it read, "hope you've
>figured out what to do with your new wife when I get back in a couple
>days. Good luck, by the way we
>siphoned your gas. Nudge! Nudge!
>-Jerry"
see--you're doin' it again--who is this Jerry guy--I have to read on to find
out--I usually make snap judgements in eight seconds and pass on but I have to
read more.
>He saw nothing
>but scorched earth and an occasional hardy bush, stretching out to a
>distant purple ridgeline. He squinted out at the afternoon sun, trying
so he's got a problem--why isn't he talking to the passenger about it--people
with this kind of problem always huddle together for comfort even if only one
is doing all the talking and thinking
so I gotta read on
>A soft sigh from the passenger seat shattered Darren's haze. He
>snapped his head to the right and found himself face to face with a
>gorgeous sleeping woman.
lol - OK OK OK she lives - but is this his wife???
I gotta read on
>Darren shrieked. He threw himself backwards and away from her,
>knocking the back of his head against the window. Frantic, he fumbled
>for the door handle, pulling so hard that the weary plastic snapped
>off in his hand. He tumbled out backwards, carrying his motion into a
>roll. Back on his hands and knees, he scrambled for the back of the
>car and crouched, shaking.
ohew--did he shriek (is he a but fey) or did he scream (fairly average US male)
>"Oh god, oh god," he whispered. How did he end up in the middle of
>nowhere, and far worse, how had that woman ended up in his car? Just
>thinking of the beautiful creature in the front seat sent him into
>paroxysms of fear. Since the sixth grade, he had avoided all contact
>with women. The day he noticed that the girl at the adjacent locker
oops--he's got a woman hangup--I though his paroxysms of fear resulted from the
inevitable construct that the words 'desert' and 'unknown georgeous woman'
implied that large men with limited vocabularieds might e'en now be stalking
his sppor eh!
>The day he noticed that the girl at the adjacent locker
>had small budding breasts, he fainted right there in the hall. He
>ditched school every day after that, and his parents finally started
>home-school.
yeah--he's a psycho alright--my reaction would have been an intense but shy
longing, or should that be shy but intense
>After slipping the bag down to her
>shoulders, he opened an eye halfway, regarding his work. It was
>serviceable.
gosh Amanda--what an imagination--I hope it's one of those grocery bags with
the holes punched in it and the clear warning that suffocation will soon follow
any foolish head insertions:)
>They showed me your wallet, and all that money you had to buy me a
>ring. I dunno, I guess I just figured what the hell. I guess it was
>more interesting than another night of work, and maybe I hoped it was
>real.
It's great--it flows--it has tension--the reader's mouth is agape he/she
doesn't know WTF is going to happen next--you maintain this dramatic tension
virtually evenly through every paragraph.
>Before Darren could manage a response, a car came up from behind,
>trailing a plume of throat clogging dust.
yeah--here come the large men with limited vocabs--right--am I wrong?
>"Alright asshole, here's the beginning of what you deserve." Darren
>heard a loud smack.
I can see it--I can hear it--I can feel it--
>The reality of the situation hit Darren like a brick. Hot anger
>smashed into his mind, ejecting the paralyzing fear like a crowbar.
>Sweat sprung from his pores. No one with so little respect for other
>people's feelings should be able to get away with it.
Yeah--that was my reaction--assholes who talk like that (jerry) are just
masochistically telegraphing their status as decerebrates
"Hey, looka me, dude . . . ain't nuthing upstream of the limbic system"
>Darren pushed Jerry forward, and he tripped and went down on his
>knees. Darren pulled back his sneakered foot, giving Jerry a sound
>kick in the ribs. Twice.
'a sound kick in the rubs' is too high decorum for this scene - a swift kick, a
hard kick, a short, sharp kick, a . . . you get my drift
>"Now get out of here," Darren said, "or I'll keep kicking you until
>you cough blood."
she's got so much respect for him now that even if he can't get it up and has
to rely on long cuddly make out sessions she'll love him forever
unconditionally
>Jerry scrambled into his car and fishtailed off towards the distant
>mountains.
>
>Darren looked up at his wife's face.
>
>"So what's your name?" he asked.
beautiful ending
too bad you can't work in Darren siphoning Jerry's gas
could you make it more sinister--he siphons the gas and leaves Jerry for
dead--Jerry is on his knees weeping and pleading--too longwinded maybe but I
want to see this Jerry guy crawlin' lower than snakeshit.
Thanks for a good read Amanda--I'm so old and world-weary that I hardly have
the energy to even scroll most stories I read
carl
http://www.wavynavy.com
(personal-non-commercial)
was it a year or lives ago we
caught the summer flying low, eh!
Scott
> Water Rites-----1595 words
Hi Virginia.
I'm a new poster here and I don't generally read other's comments
before I post my own, but for this story I needed to.
I think this story could use some tweeking. The development of a
phobia by sitting on a rubber duck, for me, sets a comic tone that
isn't sustained in the rest of the piece.
I do like the fact that the main character seems to realize later that
his problem really is the fruit of his mother's phobia that her son
wouldn't like water.
For the purposes of the challenge, I think you could condense the
early chronology so that you could expand the role of the girlfriend
later.
You have some beautiful word play in this piece, and I particularly
like the description of the Water Babies. I'll bet you there's a
story there.
Anyway, I look forward to reading your other work.
Scott