November 14, 9a.m.:
Fucking Faeries. They thought I wouldn't notice the hollow bit of dry skin, crinkling like an old plastic carrier bag, where our Monine used to be. They thought I wouldn't notice the soulless wheezing of this creature. They thought I wouldn't know where they'd taken her, know the old stories or their names; but Gran told me everything. They thought--
They thought I wouldn't come after them alone. I'm sure they were watching you, Niesh, waiting till you went away on business. And I can hardly go to the Garda with a faery story, can I? So I load this- this- thing, this changeling into the Baby-Björn like a baby, though it turns my stomach. The creature's all the creepier for it's closeness to humankind, like a half-starved, hollow-eyed infant.
I'm off. I regret for the first time our decision to go carless. The busses all either arrive or depart after dark and the faeries will be watching. The days are so short this time of year. I hope, my love, that you never have to read this, but if I don't make it back with our baby, you should know why. I can't just sit here, thinking of their skeleton fingers digging into her fair skin. I'll get as far north as I can today, and write again.
Niesh finished reading and shook his head. She thought I wouldn't notice she wrote the whole thing out in cocaine? Jesus, didn't one of the neighbors see her dragging the bedroom mirror out onto the front lawn and scraping all that powder around? They coulda called the cops or at least called me. Shit, there goes our nest egg with the next gust of wind.
He pulled out his cell phone and called his friend Rick who worked at the sheriff's office. "Yeah, just like the other week. She won't be hard to spot, carrying an E.T. doll around in a snuggly."
That does it. We're never getting a car OR a kid.
Opening: Mother (Re)produces.....Continuation: John
Why you don't get published.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
New Beginning 684
“That’s not fair!”
Even as the words left her mouth, even before Professor Ted’s eyebrows rose, Hope knew she sounded like a child. A particularly bratty one. She took a deep breath and did not look up at the wall over his shoulder, where the clock was ticking down the five minutes before the last bus left campus.
“What I mean,” she said quickly, trying to sound more like the experienced woman of the world she was at 18. “Is this is worth at least a C. C minus.”
Professor Ted cleared his throat and rubbed uncomfortably at his goatee. He was young, baby faced, and Hope was pretty sure he’d grown the facial hair in an attempt to add a few years to his look. It certainly wasn’t because he liked it. He never went more than five minutes without scratching at his chin.
“Maybe from another student,” he said. “But this is not an acceptable level of work from you, Ms. Doe.”
He pushed the previous week’s assignment across the desk. Five pages, three hours, and a small, apologetic “F” written in purple across the top of the paper. Hope sucked in another deep, deep breath through her teeth.
Professor Ted rubbed his chin whiskers again. And yet again, until Hope looked like she was going to scream. She could scream all she wanted, no way would he admit that annoying teeth-sucking thing she did every time she talked was the whole reason he had given her the "F."
Opening: Sarah from Hawthorne.....Continuation: Kate Thornton
Even as the words left her mouth, even before Professor Ted’s eyebrows rose, Hope knew she sounded like a child. A particularly bratty one. She took a deep breath and did not look up at the wall over his shoulder, where the clock was ticking down the five minutes before the last bus left campus.
“What I mean,” she said quickly, trying to sound more like the experienced woman of the world she was at 18. “Is this is worth at least a C. C minus.”
Professor Ted cleared his throat and rubbed uncomfortably at his goatee. He was young, baby faced, and Hope was pretty sure he’d grown the facial hair in an attempt to add a few years to his look. It certainly wasn’t because he liked it. He never went more than five minutes without scratching at his chin.
“Maybe from another student,” he said. “But this is not an acceptable level of work from you, Ms. Doe.”
He pushed the previous week’s assignment across the desk. Five pages, three hours, and a small, apologetic “F” written in purple across the top of the paper. Hope sucked in another deep, deep breath through her teeth.
Professor Ted rubbed his chin whiskers again. And yet again, until Hope looked like she was going to scream. She could scream all she wanted, no way would he admit that annoying teeth-sucking thing she did every time she talked was the whole reason he had given her the "F."
Opening: Sarah from Hawthorne.....Continuation: Kate Thornton
Monday, September 14, 2009
Guess the Title
Religious Book Edition
The book descriptions below were excerpted from the Barnes and Noble web site. Below each description are six titles, one of which is the book's actual title, and five of which were created by the Evil Minions. Which titles are real?
Answers at bottom of post
1. With the Bible in hand, the author sets off to spend a year attempting to follow the innumerous laws of Scripture in order to achieve the supposed claim of fundamentalists who say the Bible should be taken literally.
The Year of Living Biblically
Are You Sure I'm Not in Hell?
This Damn Well Better Have Been Worth it, God
Year Without Sin: I’ll never frigging do that again!
I’ll Be Damned: Eating shrimp and other crimes of moral turpitude
The Unleavened Bread Wasn't Bad: But I don't recommend living in a whale
2. This book will help readers navigate their way through born-again America, with tips on how to avoid being Left Behind, how to protect oneself against demonic locusts, and how to find a guide to class-action suits and post-Rapture therapy.
Beam Me Up, Jesus
Salvation for Dummies
Faith and Loving in Las Vegas
Winging It: Going undercover in Jesusland
If You Know What's Best for Me, Why Are You So Screwed Up?
My Way or the Furnace: An Evangelical's guide to freedom of worship
3. Sure, the rivers and seas will run with blood, locusts will swarm, mountains will move all over the place, and famine will strike. But for the five billion of us left behind, the post-Rapture world will be a time of opportunity.
Apoca-Tips
Making the Apocalypse Work For You
How to Profit from the Coming Rapture
Can I Have Your Stuff?: A guide to the post-rapture economy
50 Stocks that Will Take Off Once Good People Are Out of the Way
Profits For Non-Prophets: How to build your post-apocalyptic nest egg
4. Like Chaplin taking on the Nazis in The Great Dictator, the author has a field day lampooning the patent absurdities espoused by Muslim extremists.
Radical Eye for the Infidel Guy
Worship Allah . . . Or I'll Kill You
A Child's Guide to Killing Americans
The Great Big Book of "Yo, Mohammad..." jokes
And You Thought Christian Fundamentalists Were Nuts
Is That A Beheaded Infidel In Your Pocket, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?
5. All about the people known as the Brides of Christ. They wear all-black robes tied with heavy rosary beads and crucifixes that would make any child wince. They cover their heads with vast, winglike hoods. They have no legs but roll along on silent casters. They do not flinch from handing out swift and painful smacks with a switch, cane, or paddle.
Sister Pact
Scary Nuns
And then there was Nun
The Secret Life of Penguins
Get Thee to a Nunnery . . . And Live a Little!
Everything You Ever Thought You Knew About Nuns . . . Is True!
Fake Titles were submitted by
Matthew
Rick Daley
Blogless_Troll
Evil Editor
LL
Vivian Whetham
Sarah from Hawthorne
Min Yin
Scoring
0 right: Atheist
1 right: Agnostic
2 right: Holy
3 right: Angelic
4 right: God's Favorite
5 right: Hell-bound Cheater
Actual Book Titles
The Year of Living Biblically
Beam Me Up Jesus
Radical Eye for the Infidel Guy
How to Profit from the Coming Rapture
Scary Nuns
Success Story
Rich Ochoa reports that as a result of advice/shredding he received on Face-Lift 323 he reworked his query, changed his title (to One Way Ticket to Anywhere), and has landed a good agent. No doubt I'll be reporting the book's publication at a future date.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Face-Lift 673
Guess the Plot
The Redeemed and the Destroyed
1. A moving, in-depth look at the life cycle of a grocery store discount coupon.
2. The enthralling true-life story of the travels and ultimate destination of a coupon for a half-price Happy Meal at McDonalds.
3. After discovering that Jell-o Coupon has been sent to that great toilet tissue factory in the sky, Cool Whip Coupon embarks on a desperate race against time to get to Wal-Mart before she, too, expires.
4. Nina Medley, coupon clipper and bargain hunter extraordinaire, cut in line in front of an angel of death. Now she must find a way to redeem the soul of every person in her hometown or the angel will start a plague that will wipe out humanity.
5. Sally, recently laid off from her job as an elementary school teacher, secretly plots to bring down the state economy in order to send a message to the government. She is thwarted, however, in her attempt to flood the market with fake coupons. Unable to be redeemed, she is destroyed.
6. When Charles Emanuel dies, his Coke bottle collection is divvied up by his heirs. These are their stories. Which will be allowed to perform some last service to the world by being redeemed and recycled, and which will be condemned to the purgatory of the trash compactor?
7. Nonnie Bligh, the best Irish hat maker in Southwark, uses personalized spells to bewitch each hat and ensure her customers realizing their most appropriate fate-- good or bad. When the evil Puritan Cromwell comes in for a fitting, she has something very special for him.
8. When a mild mannered Sunday school teacher learns that church funds are going towards gambling and vice (a Tuesday afternoon Bingo Club), she comes up with an arts-and-crafts project for her third graders that's going to separate the sheep from the goats once and for all.
9. For seventeen years Sheila Conners has played Stella Artois Bunker Bennett Consadine Smith on the beloved soap "The Redeemed and the Destroyed". But the brass thinks she's too old, hunky Jonathan Grimes has had one facelift too many, and even the cat that played her pet has died. Is it time to move on?
10. To save his marriage oil tycoon Chet Blumwalt finances his wife's business venture, expecting it to fail. But stick-on glamor eyebrows are a hit! Teens worldwide go wild for 'brow stickers' with bright colors, sequins, flashing lights, and text messages -- until the mind-numbing glue is banned and everyone sues.
11. An obsessed ex-military group led by the smartest man in the world have decided that Edgar, a part-time demon with the ability to redeem or destroy the world, must be killed before he does the latter. But their plan to drop a nuclear bomb on Edgar's head may have unforeseen consequences.
Original Version
Dear Evil Editor,
The fabrics of one very stubborn, Edgar Benard, begin meshing into something else altogether when he goes through a seemingly spontaneous metamorphosis that grants him the ability to become a powerful, black demon complete with two wings, anytime he deems it an approved investment. This form offers him the freedom he has always sought after. [The freedom to fly and to do demonic things?] Could such a lie be true? [It's not clear what lie you're referring to. In fact, so far nothing is clear.]
No, not by any stretch. Rather, it brings the cold shackles of slavery as it exposes him to the Time Weavers, a group of obsessed ex-military loons, who have the technology to see the future before it unfolds. They set out to murder him by whatever means necessary, even if that means dropping a nuclear bomb right onto his head and wiping out an entire city. [It sounds like Edgar is either on the run or in hiding, neither of which I would describe as slavery.] If having the ability to read future events is not enough, they have possibly the smartest man alive in the world today leading them, more into the cause than the rest of them. The Time Weavers want Edgar dead because they read the future from their device, the Threads of Time, seeing very vividly that Edgar is supposed to bring the end of the world. [But the smartest man alive realizes at the last minute that if their attempt to kill Edgar were going to succeed, their device would show it succeeding, so they call the whole thing off and start a bakery.]
Edgar finds himself dwelling in bitter confusion, with no other vital purpose but to flee the people beckoning to skin him at every predicted turn, at least until she comes exploding into his life. Edgar meets his fiery, passionate equal that brings with her so much sexual tension, Edgar fears he might die from desire, if the Time Weavers don’t kill him first. She knows everything about him, especially the purpose of his winged transformation and what he must do with the new power, but more importantly, she knows how to avoid the Time Weavers.
Edgar joins this tempting bombshell, even though he doesn’t really trust a word that comes from her plush mouth, changing the meaning and direction of his life, forever.
THE REDEEMED AND THE DESTROYED sits complete at 90,000 words, ready and available at your request. Thank for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
[Author's note, not part of query: I got the title because in the actual novel itself, Edgar is often told that he has the ability to redeem the world or to destroy it.]
Notes
The most glaring problem is the word choice. One can hope this is not a problem in the book, and that you've simply misused a thesaurus in an attempt to impress Evil Editor; otherwise you'll need to put in some time familiarizing yourself with the ridiculous English language. Replacing "approved investment," "beckoning," and "plush" would be a good start, but there are numerous other instances of awkward language. Was this translated from another language?
Does "she" have a name? If not, give her one. If so, use it.
The plot is something like this:
The Time Weavers have discovered that Edgar will bring about the end of the world. They set out to kill him, which may prove difficult now that he has somehow developed the ability to become a powerful demon. But even a demon can't hold out forever against the Weavers' weapons. Enter Delilah, the mystery woman who knows how to avoid the Weavers, and more importantly, where Edgar's destiny truly lies.
Expand on that with some important information. Keep it simple. Also, get someone from around here to take a look at your manuscript.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
New Beginning 683
Emma was uncertain of how much time had passed since he last used her. It didn’t matter. What mattered was The Collector would come searching for her eventually. When he did, his eyes would be brimming with pain, his hands would tremble as he brought her to his lips and…With a shiver she forced herself to stop thinking about the inescapable future.
The door crashed open. Dust drizzled from the doorframe like grey nuclear snow. It settled in The Collector’s hair as he staggered and limped into the room. Dragging his left leg behind him, he painted smears of blood across the floor with his foot.
At the sight of his blood Emma knew she was needed at last.
His face screwed into a grimace as he squeezed his fingers into the pocket of his jeans and, with a flash of triumph, produced his newest prize. The glass bottle he held between thumb and forefinger was unremarkable. It might have been a shot bottle of liquor, but it was hard to tell since the labels had been peeled away and the previous contents drained. He held the prize up to his eyes, his hungry gaze glittering.
“We’ll see what makes you so special in a minute,” he said to the bottle in his upraised hand. He limped forward and winced. “But first I need to see Emma.”
"Emma!"
She watched as The Collector pulled open a drawer and tossed aside the sundries it contained, searching for the bag that was hidden there. Soon they would share the magic, he would feel her, cold against his lips, and she would take the pain--
* * *
Marcus Welt looked up from the page and peered at his client. "So let me get this straight," he said. "This is the story of a man's descent into reefer madness, as told by Emma the Sentient Bong? What is it, exactly, you've been smoking?"
Opening: Beth Light.....Continuation: Anon.
The door crashed open. Dust drizzled from the doorframe like grey nuclear snow. It settled in The Collector’s hair as he staggered and limped into the room. Dragging his left leg behind him, he painted smears of blood across the floor with his foot.
At the sight of his blood Emma knew she was needed at last.
His face screwed into a grimace as he squeezed his fingers into the pocket of his jeans and, with a flash of triumph, produced his newest prize. The glass bottle he held between thumb and forefinger was unremarkable. It might have been a shot bottle of liquor, but it was hard to tell since the labels had been peeled away and the previous contents drained. He held the prize up to his eyes, his hungry gaze glittering.
“We’ll see what makes you so special in a minute,” he said to the bottle in his upraised hand. He limped forward and winced. “But first I need to see Emma.”
"Emma!"
She watched as The Collector pulled open a drawer and tossed aside the sundries it contained, searching for the bag that was hidden there. Soon they would share the magic, he would feel her, cold against his lips, and she would take the pain--
* * *
Marcus Welt looked up from the page and peered at his client. "So let me get this straight," he said. "This is the story of a man's descent into reefer madness, as told by Emma the Sentient Bong? What is it, exactly, you've been smoking?"
Opening: Beth Light.....Continuation: Anon.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Face-Lift 672
Guess the Plot
Save Us
1. Heeeeelllpppp! Haha, just kidding. Aahh! Help! Ha, got you again! Owowow, help! No, seriously this time!
2. As Jesus preaches his message of peace, a lowly fisherman leads a rebellion against the devil and his demon army. Can one fisherman save all the tortured souls of hell from damnation? And if he does, will Jesus take all the credit?
3. When a mass wave of solar radiation kills off all superheroes, the only ones who can save the world from the alien invasion are Mr. Paranoid, The Human Pebble, and Schitzy, who've been hiding in concrete bunkers since the Cold War.
4. Five friends go on a road trip from UC Berkeley to Colorado, but the car breaks down in nowhere, Utah, so they enter an abandoned junk yard in the desert to search for car parts in the old wrecks but end up getting haunted by ghosts of the car-crash dead and the mysterious Anasazi god known as Kokopelli.
5. Bob was Jesus's backup apostle, in case one of the twelve died, but his incompetence frustrated Jesus enough to send him into the future to get rid of him. When Bob arrives in rural 21st century America, he's more prone to mix up the holy wafers with garlic bread than to save any souls. Can he overcome his cluelessness and bring salvation to the people of Cheeseville, Wisconsin?
6. When a world-famous hero stops overnight in dull little Midtown, the people see their chance for fame and tourism dollars. They'll do anything to convince Badaz the Fist to make Midtown his home--even if it means faking a few disasters to keep him occupied.
Original Version
Dear Evil Editor:
Phoebus has had a busy few months: falling in love, dying, and leading a rebellion—in that order.
Phoebus is a young, orphaned fisherman living in ancient Phoenicia during the time of Christ. When he and his love Ariadna drown in a storm, they find themselves on the outskirts of Hell. Captured, separated, and enslaved, [Are you saying they aren't there because of their sinful ways, that they just happened to be passing the gates of hell on their way to heaven and got captured by Satan's minions?] they sink into despair, until Phoebus inadvertently sparks a rebellion against his demon captors.
He soon meets Durus, a mercenary angel sent to aid him, [If I were an angel, I'd be pretty pissed if a fisherman who couldn't even keep his boat afloat were chosen to lead a rebellion and I was just supposed to aid him. When you're taking on an army of demons, who do you want calling the shots: a mercenary angel or a dead fisherman?] who informs Phoebus that this conflict is meant by God to distract the devil from events on Earth. [Sort of like Dick Cheney starting a war halfway around the world to distract people from how bad things are at home. But hard to believe God would pull the same stunt.] Faced with this new mandate, the desire to find Ariadna, and the threat of a growing demon army, Phoebus becomes the unlikely leader of a desperate people. As Jesus’ path takes him to the cross, Phoebus undertakes a task that transforms him as much as it changes the fate of the slaves in Hell.
SAVE US is 75,000 words, and is my first novel.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Notes
As "mercenary" means greedy; covetous; working only for monetary gain, I don't see a mercenary angel being trusted on such an important mission.
I was under the impression those in hell were there because they deserved to be there. What's the story on how your slaves in hell got there?
A little more specificity would help. What are the stakes, i.e. what would happen if the devil weren't distracted from events on Earth? What was Phoebus transformed from/to?What does Phoebus bring to the table that convinces slaves who didn't think they had a chance in hell to defeat an army of demons that they can do so with Phoebus at the helm?
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
New Beginning 682
Sarah sat at her hand-me-down mahogany desk, the room dim, only a reading lamp casting a circle of light. She wore a simple flowered dress, dowdy by today’s standards, that made her look more of a grandmother than her fifty-eight years would indicate. She copied from one business sized sheet of paper to another a description of all of her personal possessions not listed in her will and who would receive them. Adding one item to the new sheet she wrote: The Chinese puzzle box and all of its contents to my granddaughter Katrina. She signed and dated the paper, sealed it in an envelope, and put it where her daughter knew to look when the time came. The old sheet went through the paper shredder next to her desk.
She smiled warmly thinking of the secret she had never shared with anyone not even her Tom, rest his soul. After years of worrying what would happen after her passing, she had found the answer. Her stomach dropped a bit with adrenalin excitement. Katrina would find all the joy it had given her. Yes, this was the perfect decision.
True, Sarah herself would enjoy the contents of the puzzle box a few years longer, but Katrina was young enough to reap a lifetime of joy. As long as she returned the little Chinese statue faithfully to its secret compartment, the strong, muscular and very male Chan would appear at her side.
Ahh, Chan. She hadn't opened the box in almost two days. Chan needed air. Sarah smiled and reached for the colorful box.
Opening: Joel G......Continuation: Khazar-khum
She smiled warmly thinking of the secret she had never shared with anyone not even her Tom, rest his soul. After years of worrying what would happen after her passing, she had found the answer. Her stomach dropped a bit with adrenalin excitement. Katrina would find all the joy it had given her. Yes, this was the perfect decision.
True, Sarah herself would enjoy the contents of the puzzle box a few years longer, but Katrina was young enough to reap a lifetime of joy. As long as she returned the little Chinese statue faithfully to its secret compartment, the strong, muscular and very male Chan would appear at her side.
Ahh, Chan. She hadn't opened the box in almost two days. Chan needed air. Sarah smiled and reached for the colorful box.
Opening: Joel G......Continuation: Khazar-khum
Monday, September 07, 2009
Face-Lift 671
Guess the Plot
Those Who Favour Fire
1. When dancer Bob Jeffreys meets Babs, he falls madly in love. Literally. So when she decides the musician next door is actually much more suave and debonair, Bob starts burning things, expressing his anguish through performance art. That's how he meets his firebug girlfriend, Persephone. Hilarity ensues.
2. Primitive humans are divided into those who favour fire, and those scared of this powerful, glow-in-the-dark discovery. As Gurk convinces newcomer Brika that fire means warmth, defense, and less vomiting after meals of raw meat, Rrrrts, the jealous head of the rival clan polishes his club...
3. Violet the werewolf is having a bad day. Her brother has taken her best friend hostage, her sister's dead, ghosts are planning to slaughter her pack, and worst of all . . . hell, I don't even wanna talk about the fire.
4. Superhero Iceman single-handedly saves the world from global warming, but in so doing begins a new ice age. Can Pyro undo his mistake without turning the earth into a crispy wasteland?
5. Three charred bodies turn up at the city morgue with stakes through their hearts. But, if the bodies really were vampires spontaneously combusting, there should only be ash remaining. Homicide detective Zack Martinez is on the case . . . as soon as he returns from his second honeymoon in Transylvania.
6. When Urg and Moggo try toasting their wildebeest over flames, the rest of the clan flee in terror, only to be promptly eaten by leopards. And so it goes, time and again: Urg and Moggo survive uncannily while their fire-fearing relatives perish. What can it mean? Erk wonders. Plus, a glacier.
Original Version
The only thing worse than finding a body outside the front door are the people who left it there. [The subject of the sentence is "thing." Singular. The verb is "are." Plural. Not a good way to get things started.] [You're contrasting an action (finding a body) with a thing (people). It's like saying The only thing worse than mowing the lawn is Brussels sprouts. Better to say The only thing worse than mowing the lawn is eating Brussels sprouts. Now you have symmetry, congruity, harmony, Peace on Earth.] [Also, I can think of many other things that are worse than finding a dead body outside the front door. Being a dead body outside the front door, for starters. Or a paper cut.] The warning is clear: the revenants have found Violet’s Pack again. They have to run or be slaughtered. Unlike a decade ago, there will be no survivors. [If the revenants want to slaughter Violet's Pack, leaving no survivors, why provide a warning? Why not swoop in and slaughter them before they have a chance to run?]
Violet’s budding friendship with Ava, the dead man’s sister, is already complicated by Ava’s crush on her. But lying about being a werewolf is nothing compared to lying about burying Ava’s brother in an unmarked grave. [Ah, I see we've learned our symmetry lesson. Lesson 2: when contrasting two actions, try to provide the reader with some idea, however infinitesimal, of what in God's name you're talking about.]
When her father gives himself over to the revenants to buy time, Violet’s ready to do anything to get him back. [Why don't the revenants slaughter him?] Her own bargain with the revenants ends with her sister's death and her brother Nick revealing his true allegiances. [Which are...?] Then Nick presents his own hostage: Ava. [And now, folks, I'd like to present . . . Ava! She's my hostage.] [Make it clear why Nick has a hostage.] Violet refuses to choose between the human who now knows the truth about her and the family she’s sworn to protect. She’s determined to save both--even if it means turning against those closest to her. [Who are those closest to her?]
THOSE WHO FAVOUR FIRE is a 60,000-word young adult urban fantasy. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Regards,
Notes
If this is YA we need to know Violet's age.
How can Violet bargain with those who would slaughter her Pack, leaving no survivors? Can she trust the revenants to keep their side of the bargain?
In paragraph 1 it says They have to run or be slaughtered. Do they run? If not, do they get slaughtered?
But lying about being a werewolf is nothing compared to lying about burying Ava’s brother in an unmarked grave. Can you interpret this for us? Ava's brother is the dead guy who was left outside Violet's door. Who lied about burying him in an unmarked grave? Why is this worse than lying about being a werewolf?
This may be clear to you, but it's not clear to us. Pretty much none of it is clear. Start over. Just tell us what happens. Who does what, and why? Why are the revenants out to slaughter the Pack?
Is it even remotely reasonable that a werewolf named Violet would not change her name to Vilayna?
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Friday, September 04, 2009
New Beginning 681
“Apena!!!”
Baba Lasisi’s thunderous voice rang out as clear as the Muslim call to prayer, even though he stood ten houses away. That meant I had violated my curfew again–for the third night in a row.
Baba Lasisi was my next-door neighbor, and a creature of habit. Every evening at seven, he came out of his house, his protruding abdomen girded by only a loincloth, a half-eaten chewing stick in one hand, and a bowl of feces in the other. As he deposited his business into the Lagoon below, he screamed for his wife to put dinner on the table. However disgusting the thought, you could set a clock by Baba Lasisi’s evening routine.
I lived with my parents and four siblings at the far end of the Ijora-Badiya community, in a two bedroom house, suspended above the Lagos Lagoon by wooden stilts. An intricate maze of bamboo walkways served as our connection to the outside world, and also separated us from the filthy water that flowed placidly beneath.
Every day after school, I sold 'pure water' at the bus park for Maami. She expected me to sell all ten dozen sachets of water in two and a half hours, and complete the twenty minute walk home by six p.m. Therein lay the problem.
Since our only source of "pure water" was the Lagoon beneath us, our customer base was being steadily destroyed by cholera, amoebic dysentery and enteric fever.
But what else could I do? I was past my best years for child prostitution, and the street gangs that dealt khat and opium had no use for me. I could work in the sweatshops, but sewing garments sixteen hours a day would obviously keep me out past six.
It all seemed so unfair. All we needed was one person to help us get the millions of dollars out of the secret account, and our troubles would be over. Why would no one help us? We were offering a generous cut of the proceeds; why would no one answer our emails?
Opening: Wande.....Continuation: Steve Wright
Baba Lasisi’s thunderous voice rang out as clear as the Muslim call to prayer, even though he stood ten houses away. That meant I had violated my curfew again–for the third night in a row.
Baba Lasisi was my next-door neighbor, and a creature of habit. Every evening at seven, he came out of his house, his protruding abdomen girded by only a loincloth, a half-eaten chewing stick in one hand, and a bowl of feces in the other. As he deposited his business into the Lagoon below, he screamed for his wife to put dinner on the table. However disgusting the thought, you could set a clock by Baba Lasisi’s evening routine.
I lived with my parents and four siblings at the far end of the Ijora-Badiya community, in a two bedroom house, suspended above the Lagos Lagoon by wooden stilts. An intricate maze of bamboo walkways served as our connection to the outside world, and also separated us from the filthy water that flowed placidly beneath.
Every day after school, I sold 'pure water' at the bus park for Maami. She expected me to sell all ten dozen sachets of water in two and a half hours, and complete the twenty minute walk home by six p.m. Therein lay the problem.
Since our only source of "pure water" was the Lagoon beneath us, our customer base was being steadily destroyed by cholera, amoebic dysentery and enteric fever.
But what else could I do? I was past my best years for child prostitution, and the street gangs that dealt khat and opium had no use for me. I could work in the sweatshops, but sewing garments sixteen hours a day would obviously keep me out past six.
It all seemed so unfair. All we needed was one person to help us get the millions of dollars out of the secret account, and our troubles would be over. Why would no one help us? We were offering a generous cut of the proceeds; why would no one answer our emails?
Opening: Wande.....Continuation: Steve Wright
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