It was just before midnight. As I lay there fighting back the nausea I could hear the roar of his duel exhaust as he sped up and down highway six. I was trying to think of anything but vomit. So I just listened to my old buddy hot-rod up and down the highway wishing I were with him. My girl was supposed to come see me. Where was she? That bastard is out there with my girl. Every time I could not hear his Plymouth, I could imagine he and my girl doing things in his back seat. Things she was only supposed to do with me. That two-faced bastard. When I get out of this bed I will stomp his sorry ass right in front of everybody at school. Then I just lay there thinking about the payback. The time he accused me of trying to make it with his girl. Well, I only did it once and she was willing. Besides, he didn’t even know about it.
“I don’t get it. I just don't see the--”
“No, look. It’s great. There, he’s getting up. Now press the triangle button. Quick.”
“Whoa!”
“Exactly. When did you last see someone blowing chunks like that? It took forever to figure out how to get him to do that.”
“I'm sure. Look, I know I told you to tone down the sex and violence and fast cars, but this? No, I just don’t see Grand Theft Auto 4: Consequence City being a big seller.”
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: Anonymous
11 comments:
The transition from wanting to be with his friend to thinking his "girl" was with him was too quick. The author should make this emotional transition more gradual.
I know this is picky, but the issue of wanting to vomit is both distracting and gross. It feels gratuitous, because you never explain why it's there. Presumably you were trying to illustrate the character's emotional state, author, but for me it didn't work. It created an emotional state in me, though; which is not the same thing, lol. The other thought I had was that perhaps your character actually was home sick with the flu. You need to clarify the action so that the reader knows what is going on. The scene is no doubt clearly painted in your vision, but not yet with your words.
I would suggest that you open with something that is specific and doesn't involve merely a nauseated person listening to a car and thinking.
Good luck, though.
I'm not the most objective minion to comment on this beginning because I do not, as a rule, like first person narrative.
Perhaps he should start by wondering where his girlfriend is and then have his thoughts move, darkly, to the car sounds and imagine her with his friend.
I agree with writtenwyrdd, that I do not understand why he's sick. Is he hungover and can't get out of bed to see if his girlfriend is with his best friend? If hungover, set-up some scene... Jack Daniels bottle nearby.
I've come to the conclusion that we are all sick. And I mean sick. Not that it's a bad thing...
I liked it and I'm curious about where it's going. I like that maybe you broke a few "rules". There's tension, that ought to keep the minions happy.
Concur, chumplet. -V95
I'm with the other guys, (up) chuck the vomit.
As I see this, he's waiting for his best friend to get back from driving his girlfriend around in his fast car. And he's afraid their unfaithful because he was unfaithful with his best friend's girlfriend.
And I guess he's a high school kid - he says "stomp his sorry ass right in front of everybody at school."
This is awfully advanced infidelity for high school. I must have went to a sheltered school.
I'm betting this story ends with the twist that the narrator is a)dead b)permanently crippled from a car crash.
Is 'duel' a purposeful misspelling?
I really liked this beginning; I wanted to know why he was in bed not out and about like he wanted to be - I was thinking accident? No problem with the vomit. I liked the tone, but the tenses seemed to switch from past to present, which threw me a bit ('When I get").
Great continuation!
I just like Mr. Evil's new car. It's...shiny.
Thanks, all, for the input. There is definitely some work to be done.
This is an autobiographical short story.
I was severely ill for two weeks with . . . something that involved a lot of puking.
The "story" goes on to say that early the next morning my mother and 11 of my classmates came into my room to tell me my friend, the one driving the hotrod, had parked in front of his house and put a bullet in his own head. There was more vomit.
That was in 1980, Dave. I believe the fidelity thing hasn't gotten any better among our teens today. I do believe you went to a sheltered school. -Author
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