Short Story(s) testing.


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Atla
July 11, 2008, 12:27 AM
Thanks to Oleg for allowing me to post this. Along with the comment of 'I like it very much'.

Look folks, I don't write. I've never been real good with writing and such. My first college English class I failed two times. Granted, my attendance was abysmal the first time. And the second time I just drank to much that semester...

But from what I turned in, the teachers weren't fans. Evidently I write, 'like I talk'.

I figured it was a compliment, since I don't use big words. ;>

But I like to read, a lot. And I read pretty quickly. So I figured I'd try my hand at writing stories, it seems to be all the rage on these boards right now anyways. I'm not up to some long fancy story yet. I'm taking baby steps if you will. This is the first one, just a brief short story. I'll post a bunch of them with the same character through different scenarios, just trying stuff out. (I'll admit my biggest fear is 'conversations'... trying to type those scare the crap out of me.)

So - here ya go. Nit pick it, whine about it, praise it, bash it, whatever.

This is just a trial run.

On with the show.

"I don't know why I get into gunfights. I guess sometimes I just get lonely."
-Billy Clanton, "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral".


My back was pressed against the dumpster, my legs spread out before me, my eyes on the alley entrance. My pants were soaked with rain water, stale beer, urine, and probably some vomit thrown in for good measure. If you ever have to run and hide, don't run and hide behind a bar. Not only is it filthy, it smells mighty bad also. The other side of the alley was made up of white bricks from a florists shop. I thought that painting bricks white took away from the brick type look when it comes to architecture, but then what do I know? I'm neither a painter nor an architect.

The blood from my wounds had smeared on a portion of the wall across from me... it looked better red. Shame I was leaking like I was, I might have been able to get another one of them before I boarded the black cadillac. I coughed... more red. How did that country song go? "They say heavens at the end but so far it's been hell'"... I didn't figure that feller who wrote the song had ever been shot up before, but he sketched the last fifteen minutes up pretty quick in that one line.

By the way, I'm Max and I'm pretty certain I'm dying.

I've never died before, so I can't be real sure. Heck, I've never even been shot before, broke a leg once though. Jumped off a roof in third grade to impress a girl but it didn't help my cause any when she fainted at the sight of my bone sticking out. Back to present time, it hurts real bad and I don't figure I can escape. I probably watched to many movies as a kid anyways... thinking I could get away with this. They don't do real gun fights much justice. Maybe if that first slug that hit me in the left shoulder had thrown me back 15 feet I would have missed the one that hit me through the lung. I also had to shoot them more than once to get them to die. Hell, I didn't even hear any music playing. I was cinematically ripped off.

Their buddies are on their way, I can hear the tires squealing as they arrive. I close my eyes and try to breathe. The screaming had finally stopped, folks on the street had taken off yelling and running the moment the shooting started. That little gray haired lady with the walker took off so fast she left it behind. I guess its high noon now. Since I'm dead anyways, I would have prefered to walk into the street to face them like a real hero.... or perhaps just lean around the corner and ambush them like a real scoundrel. Instead I'm laying on my rear surrounded by floating cigarette butts, rat droppings, and withering flowers waiting for them to find me.

This wasn't what I wanted. I had planned on getting away and I damn sure planned on not being shot. Both of them plans got shafted from the get-go.

I reached into the puddle and grabbed a floating reciept. $73.50. Focusing on the last line hurt so much that I didn't bother seeing if someone was in the doghouse with his wife or had a helluva party at the bar. I just crumpled it and stuffed it into the hole in my shoulder. By God that hurt like hell also. I wish they'd hurry up, death ought to be pretty pleasant after an evening like this. Certainly more peaceful.

I hear boots pounding on pavement. Gripping my pistol tighter, I try to remember how many rounds I have left. It carried fifteen rounds of .40 in a mag, I had three magazines with me when it started. I shot my first magazine to slide lock taking out the first two. Then I emptied an entire magazine trying to hit the last one. I didn't need all fifteen rounds, but it felt good to put the last few through his skull after he was already dead for good measure. His ability to fit that pudgy body of his under the car was truly miraculous anyways and I didn't want him to pull another miracle out of his butt. Course my aim might have been off, since he had put the slug through my shoulder beforehand and than another through my innards.

Now I see shadows falling across the alley entrance and whispered commands. I stifle another cough, choking the blood and froth back down. I raise my pistol towards the light, waiting for the shadows to step into view. I can feel my focus slipping, I wish I could lay my head back against the dumpster and close my eyes. I wish the pain would go away. I wish I could have a re-do. I wish a pretty brunette would patch me up.

The shadows move, my time is up. I empty my magazine down the alley. Empty brass shells make tinkling noises that are followed by small splashes as they land around me. I lower my pistol, I try to focus on the still forms in the light. I can't. I let my head fall back, I let my eyes close.

"I win."


Since the first few sentences of every story is the most important... here's the first line(and a half) for the next short story.

"I licked my chapped lips and looked through the spotting scope again. The target was small, real small. Luckily for me he had a big head. Midgets are like that."

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Mil-Spec45
July 11, 2008, 12:34 AM
I'm no English teacher...but I like it!

bogie
July 11, 2008, 01:27 AM
A great number of English teachers don't know a whole lot about writing.

I like it.

Picard
July 11, 2008, 01:33 AM
Depressing but pretty good.

gtmerkley
July 11, 2008, 01:39 AM
ya!...

hacksaw
July 11, 2008, 10:57 AM
Very Noir/Mike Hammer-ish...I like!

BattleChimp Potemkin
July 11, 2008, 11:04 AM
By the way, I'm Max and I'm pretty certain I'm dying.

Love it! Good charector introduction, good flow of plot, gotta give us more!:D Why is Max shooting folks, midgets?:D

crashresidue
July 11, 2008, 11:13 AM
A very good read - please don't stop now.

cr

Elza
July 11, 2008, 11:23 AM
Atla: Great read and very sobering.

Everyone that carries a gun should read this story. This is another reason why I hope I never have to use a gun to defend myself!

Josh Aston
July 11, 2008, 01:07 PM
Forget short story, that's a great intro to one hell of a novel.

Brian Dale
July 11, 2008, 01:38 PM
Look folks, I don't write.You do now.

Keep going. :)

lysander
July 11, 2008, 04:42 PM
I liked it!

cambeul41
July 11, 2008, 04:57 PM
Everyone that carries a gun should read this story. This is another reason why I hope I never have to use a gun to defend myself!

You beat me to it!

Atla
July 11, 2008, 06:34 PM
Hey - thanks guys. Really.

Max may or may not be dead. And...he may not even be the 'good guy'. ;>

But he'll be the constant character throughout these stories, the time line be damned. I'm about halfway or so through the midget story as I stayed up late last night playing with it. So I ought to have more to offer you soon!

DoubleTapDrew
July 11, 2008, 06:45 PM
That's as good as (or better than) any novel I've read. Excellent work! Keep it up!

2TransAms
July 11, 2008, 06:50 PM
Good read,Atla! I like how the style is not very verbose. Succinct and blunt.

Atla
July 11, 2008, 08:01 PM
"I wonder how police do the chaulk outline if you push someone into a wood chipper."
-Unknown.

I licked my chapped lips and looked through the spotting scope again. The target was small, real small. Luckily for me he had a big head. Midgets are like that. The current problem was how to go about sending a 165 grain .308 boattail through that pumpkin. The little feller won't be still and he keeps pacing back and forth in his kitchen from window to window. I have a perfect shot from here through his living room patio door if only he would sit on his couch. Doesn't he know that theres an Austin Powers marathon on today?

Sighing, I reach over and pick up my rifle and flip the scope caps. I know why he's upset. I know why he's freaking out. There's a partial body stuffed in his fridge and he has two flat tires. I know this because I cut the tires this morning while he snored loudly with a decapitated head laying on the pillow next to him. Sure, I could have off'ed the little troll while he slept easily enough. I did slip into his house to braid the deceased's hair after all... I knew that'd freak him out come dawn. Well, that and I was hungry. I also could have popped him while he was stuffing the body parts in his trunk. Or while he was dragging the parts out of his trunk and back inside when he realized his Buick wasn't going anywhere. But sometimes it's nice to know you can make someone squirm.

I figure he would be more antsy if he knew I was sitting on the hill over-looking his house with a scoped rifle. I sling up and settle into the classic military prone position and rack the bolt to chamber a round. Peeking through the 10x scope, I move the mildot rectile onto his fishbowl. Yeah...real antsy. I wait for the red and white goldfish to move behind the shipwreck, no point in collatoral damage. Squeezing the trigger I send the spinning bullet at 2,650 fps through his window and explode his aquarium all to **** over his kitchen counter.

The little sadist leaves his dying fish behind and tries to save himself. He wasn't short on brains, so he moved away from the windows. But he wasn't real bright either since he took cover between them. The typical outside wall is constructed of 2x6 studs turned on edge, usually filled with a fiberglass insulation. On the outside of the house there is 1/4 inch plywood and siding. In this case, gray vinyl. The inside of the wall consists of 1/2 inch sheetrock and some paint. Judging from what I can see of the other side of the kitchen, it's blue. Sadly for him none of the materials used in the construction of his house is bullet proof. Especially the blue paint, even if there is lead in it.

I figure theres only three feet between the two windows. The average human body is 20 inches wide... well I guess that doesn't apply to gnomes. No matter. I rack the bolt again, a touch upset with myself since I should have done it sooner. I need to stop thinking about the mathematical improbablities of small people and get back to it. I place the crosshairs on the center of the narrow wall. I ought to atleast wing him...and squeeze the trigger. The split second before the recoil moves the scope, I see a hole appear in the vinyl and a splash of red spray in each window.

I don't hear any screaming, so I figure he's passed out or dead. And judging from the red spray I think I got him pretty good. I work the bolt and pocket my two fired rounds. Police probably won't care to much who the shooter is, when they've a dead feller with a three page rap sheet on his kitchen floor and body parts in the fridge. And they probably won't find where I'm shooting from, their departmental shooting range is only 50 yards and I'm well beyond that. But they could get lost and end up way out here. Might as well control what circumstances I can and hope to get lucky on the rest.

I peek through the scope again to make certain he isn't crawling off anywhere. No movement, and the pool of bodily fluids is getting bigger.

I also can see the opposite blue wall now has a splattering of purple on it, reckon I'm an artist after all.

Brian Dale
July 11, 2008, 08:53 PM
Ewwwww! :D

2TransAms
July 12, 2008, 01:43 AM
Gross. Awesome. Max's brain is not all there,is it? Nor,apparently,is the midget's.

Radagast
July 12, 2008, 09:23 AM
Absolutely brilliant. I'm bookmarking this thread. :)

NukemJim
July 12, 2008, 01:47 PM
Atla, I like both samples/teasers.

I would recomend that you listen to your gut and feedback from readers and sales, NOT English Teachers. My apologies to any good English Teachers on the board, and yes there are a few of them. I've had precisely 1 (one) out of grade school, high school, and college.

If the english teachers know so much about writing why aren't they writing for a living? Again my aplogies to the rare english teachers who do write well and/or help/encourage their students to do so.

To avoid thread drift I shall shut up about english teachers.:fire: :cuss:

NukemJim

Apple a Day
July 12, 2008, 05:32 PM
I work the bolt and pocket my two fired rounds.
Spent brass?

Dude, you shot the midget! I should be ashamed that I'm laughing so hard. :what::D

Flyboy
July 12, 2008, 06:08 PM
The first one didn't really have the tone of a short story--it read more like a voice-over narration at the beginning of a movie. I could actually see the scene with the main character telling us the story over top of it.

The second one, I wasn't such a fan of. Your character seems to be taking great pleasure in terrorizing his undersized victim, and describes him as a "sadist?" For not rescuing a fish while under fire? I don't know, I guess the character seemed too amoral and casual about killing. If this story expands, I really hope he turns out to be the bad guy. Even at that, he's still pretty shocking.

Atla
July 13, 2008, 06:07 PM
"I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people and I expect the same from them."
-John Wayne, The Shootist.


I put down my welder, cut the power, and chomped down on my cigar. My death contraption was complete. It had been a long twelve hours and I was tired. My friends outside who had surrounded my house yesterday were trying to play mind games with me by flashing 10,000,000 candle watt spotting lights through my windows, blaring some hideous jazz music, and saying some rather crude things about my mother through their megaphones. That mind game crap coupled with a six pack of Jolt had kept me working through the night, though it did make it hard to concentrate sometimes.

They knew their shock and awe tactics would work when negotiations failed. They had performed this same tired routine on hundreds of hostage situations through out the past five decades. If I didn’t give in soon, they’d toss a handful of concussion grenades through my windows, breach the doors on both end of the house and use overwhelming numbers to take me down and maybe save what was left of their buddy.

My hostage was one of their informants.

When they wanted to talk to him, I told them that wasn’t possible and tossed his tongue out the door and into the yard. I was never a pleasant man to argue with. They’d find him in the bathtub, he was still alive a few hours ago. Might still be if they hurry when I’m done.

I decided a long time ago if it came to this I would play their own game against them. And change the rules as I saw fit. Always cheat to win if you can, I learned that lesson hard playing Monopoly with my sister when I was little.

It was high time they learned that when you push someone, they might push back.

Stepping up into the drivers seat, I took a moment to grasp the 1919A4 handle and check to make sure it would still swivel properly after that last weld. It was a simple task to take out the windshield, run a couple of steel bars across the dash and down to the Bronco’s frame. I then welded the tripod to the bars a foot right of the center of the hood. Shame they didn’t make these things feed from the right and not the left, it was a real pain in the butt to install a bracket to hold the ammo can between me and the gun.

I had picked this baby up several years ago, it was a semi-automatic version chambered in .308. It wasn’t an NFA registered gun with full auto. But a few hours in a machine shop and I fixed that little problem and hid the parts in my garage. I couldn’t think of a better time to ignore that silly law than right now. I had also taken the liberty of sawing down a couple of double barreled shotguns to a more convenient length and tossing them in the passenger seat. I was never much of a shotgun lover anyways, but they worked great for Ash in his Buick.

I flipped the cover and raised the extractor. Reaching into the olive drab can I took the end of the belt of ammunition and fed it into the feed tray and lowered the extractor. Tugging the cocking handle back I let it fly forward to chamber the first round.

It was a good thing I had backed into my garage yesterday after work. The news helicopters were outside above my house. If I had driven in, I’d look mighty silly on television trying to turn around while they were shooting at me.

I glanced around my garage one more time, then picked up a flare from the floorboards. I struck it and threw it at the bottom of the garage door. The used oil I had poured on the floor between me and the garage door began to burn. Hitting my remote switch, the door began to open while the reeking blue smoke filling the room and began billowing outside under the door.

I gripped the handle of the 1919 with my right hand and placed my finger on the trigger. My left grabbed the steering wheel.

"Here we go."

hankdatank1362
July 13, 2008, 07:00 PM
Dude, you should write movie scripts.

Red Tornado
July 14, 2008, 12:12 PM
These are fun. I like the short story as a little time slice of a larger picture. It allows you to use your imagination for the before and after action. A lot of Stephen King's early short stories were like that. They started in the middle, and didn't really end. I think the style makes for an entertaining diversion.

Keep up the good work.
RT

Flintlock Tom
July 14, 2008, 01:55 PM
Very good, but why are you torturing us with a little taste when we want the whole meal?

Atla
July 14, 2008, 04:10 PM
Heh, I'm going to back the last one up with another 'chapter' I suppose.

Just cause I think it'll be fun to see what havoc a Bronco and a 1919A4 mounted on the dash can do.

Red Tornado
July 14, 2008, 04:28 PM
I think it'll be fun to see what havoc a Bronco and a 1919A4 mounted on the dash can do

Gee, ya think?!? Actually, this was a pretty standard occurance in "The A Team" back in the seventies. Thousands of rounds fired, but nobody ever got shot.

**burning police cars all around while a 1919 laden Bronco drives away**
"Mmm, Hannibal, they won't be coming after us."

"I love it when a plan comes together!"

RT

Atla
July 14, 2008, 05:12 PM
Never seen A Team before, must be that sheltered childhood of mine.

But folks are gonna die. ;>

jpsimms
July 14, 2008, 05:37 PM
beautiful...

Seriously you should make full length novels out of these

Atla
July 14, 2008, 11:01 PM
While I waited for the garage door to rise to make my dramatic exit, I reached over and hit the play button on the cd player. I had put a lot of thought into my music selection and being a southerner I felt the choice was appropriate. It didn’t quite tie in with the flag attached to my CB antennae, different centuries and all, but it would do.

“O, I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”

The smoke was getting thick now and hard to breathe in. Dawn was breaking and the daylight was filtering in through the bottom of the garage door. Any minute now and things were liable to get real interesting real quick. I was regretting not putting any sunglasses on, they would have made me look cooler.

“In Dixie Land where I was born in
Early on one frosty mornin'
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”

The door was finally high enough. Directly in front of me was a balding man in a dark suit standing next to the passenger door of a Suburban. He was holding a bull horn in his hand telling me to come out with my hands up.

No such luck buddy. I stomped the go pedal and burst out of the smoke. His jaw dropped.

“O, I wish I was in Dixie!
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie!”

I pulled the trigger and swept from left to right with the 1914, the .308 rounds bursting the tires, exploding the windows, piercing the sheet metal, and cutting the bald man in half. Even the bull horn took a round or two as his torso flopped to the side and fell next to what was left of his legs.

Cutting the wheel, I whipped the Bronco over a flowerbed of daisies. White petals floated in the air behind me as I strafed another dark SUV and the Suits standing around it. Someone caught on and using the engine block as cover began firing back with his M16. His rounds were impacting the passenger side of the Bronco and making me uncomfortable. I jerked the handle of the 1914 to the left and up to send a stream of bullets skipping off the pavement and upwards trying to wing him as I passed. I couldn’t tell if I got him or not and let go of the 1914 to yank the emergency brake. The Bronco turned sideways in a slide as I tried to avoid slamming into another one of those cursed suburban’s lining the street. I stopped several feet from it.

“Old Missus marry Will, the weaver,
William was a gay deceiver
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”

A Suit slid over the hood of the Suburban pistol in hand. I stomped the skinny pedal as he grabbed my passenger mirror and jumped onto the Bronco’s running boards. Reaching through the window, he began to move his pistol towards my head. Grabbing up one of the shotguns and I let him have both barrels through the door panel for good luck. His body spasmed and his pistol fired, taking out my rear view mirror. The pistol flew out of his hands as his body fell away and under my rear tire.

“But when he put his arm around her
He smiled as fierce as a forty pounder
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”

I dropped the shotgun to pick up the 1914 handle again and began strafing the next SUV as I demolished a mailbox on the grill of the Bronco. My modified Gadsden Flag was whipping about in the breeze behind me, ‘Don’t tread on me’ marked out and ‘TIMES UP’ written below it with spray paint. I hoped the cameras were getting this. America’s Wildest Video’s eat your heart out.

“O, I wish I was in Dixie!
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie!”

The Suits were beginning to rally. I could hear the bullets pinging off and through the Bronco. Ahead of me was a gap between two SUV’s and my only chance at an exit before I was turned to Swiss cheese. I floored it and felt the Bronco jump as I drove over the neighbors garbage and burst open a bag of leaves. I never really liked them anyways.

“His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaver
But that did not seem to grieve her
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.
Old Missus acted the foolish part
And died for a man that broke her heart
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie Land.”

I emptied what was left of the .308 belt on the two suburban’s near my exit. Picking up the remaining shotgun I rammed the vehicles, knocking them away from me. I was thrown forward as tires squealed and metal twisted in a sickening crunch. The Bronco slowed momentarily.

Then I was through.

The front end was demolished and smoke beginning to rise from the crumpled hood. As my engine began to squeal out of protest, I shoved the shotgun out the drivers window and blew away another Suit that was crawling from the mangled wreckage.

“O, I wish I was in Dixie!
Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To live and die in Dixie
Away, away,
Away down south in Dixie!”

I just might pull this off.

KiltedClaymore
July 14, 2008, 11:12 PM
More More More!!!!!!!!!

Ragnar Danneskjold
July 14, 2008, 11:21 PM
My only suggestion would be to not use first person narritive so much. For instance, the phrase "I hear boots pounding on pavement", might read better with something like "the sound of boots on pavement grew closer".

Show, don't tell. When you use "I" a lot, it gets repetitive and gives the sense of you telling a story. Instead, if you use objective descriptors and phrases, it colors the story and mood without sounding too much like it's you talking in written form.

Atla
July 14, 2008, 11:24 PM
Agreed Taurus, I'll try that out for the next one and see how it goes. But I think your absolutely correct.

Brian Dale
July 15, 2008, 01:35 AM
Ahhh, I can sleep tonight. That was fun. :D

Probable typo; the 1919A4 (Browning) in Post #24 became a 1914 (would be a Hotchkiss or Lewis, maybe...) in Post #32.
{My rule for mentioning it in a case like this is that I'll only bring up gun related typos; I won't be a jerk. It's the story that matters.}

Nolo
July 15, 2008, 01:40 AM
I haven't read all of it, but you do write like you talk.
Not great for term papers, but you can make it work for stories, and it usually ends up pretty damn good when you do.
You have what all novelists need, and what no English teacher will teach you: description, imagery, and I think I see a hint of characterization.
I wouldn't call you refined, but I would say you've got the right stuff.
For the record, my writing isn't refined, either.
Take it as encouragement. I think if you work hard at it and dedicate yourself to writing, then you should be able to make it as a writer (I've seen worse do it, not that you're in any way bad).
If you don't, well then, keep posting them on THR, because they appear pretty amusing.
All the best,
Nolo

sm
July 15, 2008, 01:43 AM
Atla,

Thank you for sharing and please continue!

Steve

jpsimms
July 16, 2008, 07:40 PM
Atla, I'm beginning to really like this Character, keep 'em coming I want to see what happens to him

KiltedClaymore
July 16, 2008, 07:55 PM
i liked the "dixie" part.

Atla
July 16, 2008, 08:55 PM
I'm going to take a little time and rework this whole 1919A4 part. I really like the idea of expanding it a little bit, and I think I could do a lot better job in actually writing it out with some revising.

So...like a day or two.

For Max, I wanted someone who wasn't quite 'all there' in the normal sense of the word. (It's not like we 'gun nuts' are 'all there' anyways.). And maybe not so much of definitely a good or bad guy, but a guy playing his own side.

;>

I watched the Undefeated the other day where the Union Troops pass the Confederate Troops and start singing Battle Hymn of the Republic, so the Confederates start singing Dixie back at them.

So it was in my head while I was writing this stuff.

hankdatank1362
July 16, 2008, 10:06 PM
Dude... This is the best writing I've seen on THR since Nightcrawler and Larry C. did their thing.


This is great, great stuff! Seriously!

Tell any prospective publisher you may have that you've got at least one sale already... me!

GLOCK19XDSC
July 16, 2008, 10:43 PM
This is good stuff. Definitely a novel or six in there, I believe.

Atla
July 16, 2008, 10:47 PM
Well, thanks guys. I doubt I am on the same level as them though. ;>

But it makes me think I've got potential!

Once I repost the story, I'll delete what I've written so far. That might help it from becoming to confusing. Or if the story starts to get sort of long, I may just ask for permission to start a new thread. This one is just for testing some ideas, and tinkering around.

I wasn't really planning on doing a big story. But I'm having fun expanding this 1919a4 bit, it's got a lot of potential and it's just flowing right now. I got the feeling it'll have length to it. We'll see. ;>

Here's the introduction:

It was 2 a.m. and the helicopters gave them away. I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. As I drew a smiley face in the peanut butter with my Ka-Bar the sound of several approaching helicopters drifted in through the window. Normally I wouldn’t have thought a thing about helicopters passing by. But having a man zip-tied to a steel chair under a hobby lamp in the basement makes you a little jumpy.

hoosier8
July 17, 2008, 12:06 AM
Develop your characters.

Brian Dale
July 17, 2008, 04:58 AM
OK; you wrote, ...This one is just for testing some ideas, and tinkering around...I wasn't really planning on doing a big story...But then you wrote:

As I drew a smiley face in the peanut butter with my Ka-Bar...

:D

You think that we'll ease up on you after you write a line like that? :scrutiny:

Look at the way we all ground on Nightcrawler and Larry for more episodes! We were like ravenous weasels! :evil:

I'd keep going and see where this leads. ;)

Atla
July 17, 2008, 10:01 PM
http://www.thehighroad.org/showthread.php?p=4716751#post4716751

Thats where the previous 'Escape' story is going to be continued.

I'll keep making up random 'clips' for this thread as I run over ideas for future stuff.

Nivek
July 17, 2008, 10:56 PM
These are amazing!

These guys are correct, you're writing is a little rough, but it works! I think the rough and gritty style works perfectly for the character. It seems like he is pretty rough around the edges too, or has at least had a really bad couple weeks at work! :D

Keep it coming!

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