Tuesday, August 30, 2011


      Today and tomorrow are going to be strange days for this blog. Today is just incredibly busy. Tomorrow I am having surgery (here's hoping I don't die!). It's very minor, and so I really shouldn't die. Suffice to say, if I do perish, I will be quite upset with my surgeon. As for the blog, I have no time to write today, and will be bed-ridden tomorrow, so I am digging up some more old stuff.

      Today's post is the first page or so of a short story I wrote a bit ago. I'm still editing it to get it as good as possible, but I figured it would be interesting to see what kind of response the original draft gets. So here is the first draft of a yet to be titled short story of mine. Let me know what you think, as I could use the critique to improve the final draft. Cheers!


      Four brave warriors advanced up the dirt path to the mouth of a great cave. Behind them lay a trail of ferocious lizard-men. They were now quite harmless, due in large part to the removal of their heads, although in certain cases a repeated stabbing had had to suffice. The warriors were ruthless and efficient, but they needed to be. The lovely princess had tasked them with slaying the evil dragon lord, Pyrran earlier that day, and each man was eager to complete the quest and receive his reward.
      “Okay, so we've killed how many lizard guys?” inquired Knight Anthony.
      “I'm coming up with 20.”
      “Yeah, me too.”
      “Damn, I only got 19. I'll be right back,” said Squire George, and he jogged towards a lizard-man he had spotted behind a nearby tree.
      “We'll wait, but I'm going to take a bathroom break.” said the leader of the group, Knight-Commander Ruggles.
      “Make it fast!” shouted George, parrying a vicious blow from his opponent and stabbing him lightly for the 7th time. “I'm almost done!”
      “We were waiting for you, you can wait for us.” said Captain Manshaft. “I have to go to the bathroom too.”
      George sheathed his sword, having managed to heroically throw a medium-sized vial of acid on the lizard-man, and strolled back to the group. “You know, I can't believe you haven't had to change that yet.”
      “Yeah, well, you and me both,” laughed Manshaft. “Don't you worry though, I've got another great name all ready to go if they make me change it.”
      “Back!” shouted Ruggles. “George, you know there's a lizard-man attacking you, right?”
      George turned around and was surprised to find that the beast he had thought to be nobly slain was instead very much alive, very much disfigured by acid burns, and had been slashing away at George's back for the past minute. Letting out a weary sigh, George spoke a few magic words and touched the lizard-man on the shoulder. The creature suddenly stopped moving, becoming frozen in place. Then, with a sound similar to smacking one's lips, which did not seem to correctly capture what occurred visually, the lizard-man exploded.
      “Shit! Dude, when did you learn that?” asked Ruggles, who was now thoroughly jealous, as the most impressive method of killing he could employ was hitting things repeatedly with a large, blunt object.
      “I got it right after that last quest we finished. You know, from the old witch in the swamp.”
      “Ugh! I forgot to talk to her again. I guess I'll do that later.”
      “I'm back! Let's go!” said Manshaft.
      Having emptied their bladders and slain Pyrran's guardians, the four men entered the gaping maw of the cavern. Once inside, finding the great dragon proved to be of no difficulty. The cave was comprised of one enormous chamber, and the shiny, green leviathan slumbered in it's center. Various rock formations were scattered about and would certainly make for excellent cover. An, experienced group of adventurers, the men knew that dragons tended to breathe fire quite liberally. Charred skeletons, the remains of warriors past, served as a testament to the immense power of their foe. To prepare, every possibility had been accounted for. Their armor had been enchanted to better shield against flames, their bags had been filled with healing potions and salves, and their blades sharpened to better deal with scaly hides.
      It was then, while the warriors were taking up position to strike, that George heard the footsteps coming from behind him. His mind shifted into overdrive, quickly summoning a series of frail excuses to delay the inevitable. His face changed from one of determination to one of despair, which he hoped would gain him some sympathy from what approached. George turned around just as the door opened.
      “George, honey? Your dad would love it if you would mow the lawn.”
      “I know, mom!” George had, through a mix of practice and teenage hormones, developed a way spitting out the word mom as though it were an insult.
      “Are you playing that game of yours again?”
      “Yeah...” He could tell where this was going. It was the same conversation they always had. George's mother thought he spent far too much time up in his room by himself playing a computer game. George thought his mother had unreasonable demands and often interrupted the game. Each walked away from their verbal sparring sessions feeling worn, angry, and thinking the other to be incapable of understanding logic.
      “You know it's probably going to start raining later,”
      “It's not going to.”
      “and when it does your dad's going to complain that the lawn isn't mowed.”
      “Fine! I'll mow it!” George shouted in resignation, and he stood up to begin storming past his mother as he had done so many times before. He was midway across the room, and really had an impressively sulky look on his face, when he realized he had jumped the gun. His mom hadn't really complained about the game. He hadn't even tried to say he'd mow the lawn “later”. He hadn't even used the voice he had developed specifically for procrastination and faking sick. He shouldn't have agreed to mow the lawn. Somehow he had skipped right to the end of the argument without going through all the yelling and lying.
      Suddenly, George found himself wondering if he was actually angry.  As the significance of that thought dawned upon him, George struggled to continue his storming. His face looked more confused than anything, but, having moved a fair distance already, he was locked into the action. Trying to maintain his angst the best he could, George continued stomping his feet and sighing excessively all the way down the stairs. At least mowing the lawn would give him time to figure out what the hell happened inside his own head.

      School had never been a problem for George. By putting in a little effort straight A's would have been his. Unfortunately for George's report card, he had long ago discovered that putting in zero effort resulted in mostly A's with a few B's thrown in, which he considered positively good enough. His time in school was mostly spent talking to friends, watching the clock, and stealing the occasional brief glance at Jennifer White. She was in five of his seven classes each day. How any person could be so smart, funny, popular, and beautiful all at once, George could not fathom. He was even sure that her name was the best possible combination of first and last names there ever was. It was the name that flowed through his mind constantly, waiting for a break in his thoughts through which to come pouring out. There had been some very nearly catastrophic events in class as a result. One day in U.S. History his brain, drunk off her name, tried to convince him that Jennifer White was, in fact, the bold leader who was pictured sailing across the Delaware River. He hated her name and its annoying tendency to cripple his intellect. That wasn't the worst of it though.
      “Boy she looks good today, doesn't she, George?” said Anthony with a smirk.
      “Probably wore that skirt just for you.” laughed Ruggles.
      “Shut up!” The worst of it was that his friends knew how much he liked Jennifer White. “Where's Eugene anyway?” asked George, desperate to change the subject.
      Anthony scanned the various lunch lines. “I think he's still in the line for pasta. They had the good meatballs today.”
      “You did not just call the fucking meatballs 'good', did you?”
      “Ruggles, I like the fucking meatballs.”
      “Dude, fuck the meatballs!”
      “What are we fucking?” Eugene asked George. He had managed to make his way across the cafeteria and take a seat at their corner table without anybody noticing. George always wondered how Eugene was able to go so easily unnoticed with the mop of fiery curls on his head, but he was no longer surprised by it. The group had decided it was one of his secret ginger-powers.
      “What is wrong with us?”
      George only managed a shrug, his mind turning back to Jennifer now that the conversation was no longer about her. She was only six tables away.
      “I'm not saying that at all! They just have this secret fucking seasoning that the other ones don't!”
      She was getting up to put her tray back. Her rich brown hair was perfectly straight and perfectly shiny. Sometimes she curled it. She walked playfully, as if listening to music that nobody else could hear.
      “I don't know! I just like. The fucking. Meatballs!”
      She always smiled. Even putting her tray back, she was smiling.

      I think we'll stop there for now.


  1. Good luck on the surgery tomorrow!

    Interesting story. At first I was wondering why the warriors where talking like they did and I worried you were just amateurish but then I remembered your previous story! It was good, so I kept reading. Once I realized he was playing a computer game I went back and re read the begining! It was great!
    The part with the girl didn't really have an end to it but since you stopped your self there I guess you have more on this story.
    Can't wait to read it!

  2. It was quite long but I enjoyed it! (that's what she said)

  3. Awesome story keep it going!

  4. going great so far mate, def interesting

  5. Good luck man, like you said its minor, but hope you get well soon.

  6. Well written imho, also, don't die :)

  7. awesome story, maybe one day we can see the whole thing.

  8. very well written, and good luck with your surgery!

  9. @Murdernickel did you just make a "thats what she said" joke on yourself? lol

  10. Wow, that is some great writing! :D Post more please! And good luck with your surgery :)

  11. @murdernickel, that's what captain manshaft said