SparkyLT

Crits returned.
EDIT: Somewhat longer wordcount now. I've modified the ending.


* * * * * * * * * * * *

I have no idea what I’m about to eat.

I found it sitting in the freezer, wrapped in plastic, exactly in the same spot it had been festering in for weeks. No one else in the house had touched it, which I consider quite something since I live with a teenage boy. A teenage boy, I tell you; a living garbage disposal. But even my brother hadn’t disturbed it. It just sat there, nestled between a frozen deep-dish pizza and some other mysterious package, this one wrapped in aluminum foil.

Yes, there are many things in my family’s freezer I wouldn’t touch if forced at gunpoint. But damn it, I was hungry.

Removal of the frost-encrusted plastic shroud proved the object to be some sort of pastry. It came packaged with a packet of white cream, presumably intended to be used as icing. Banging the packet on the counter produced a sound not unlike that of a hammer striking a stone, as well as a bemused glance from my mother. She sighed, and I fully expected to hear another comment on my questionable sanity, but instead she opted to quit the kitchen.

Further inspection of the pastry gave me absolutely no insight as to what delicious or despicable filling it might contain. Finally I decided to take my chances – abandon all reason and simply stick the thing in the toaster and see if it was edible when it emerged. I did so with surgical precision. After all, if I didn’t place it in exactly the center of the burner, it may not heat evenly, and even if the filling was perfectly delicious, I would be unable to devour it. My younger brother – the one who was not quite yet a living garbage disposal – had altered the heat settings on the side of the toaster that was plainly marked with my name, and it took no small amount of time to correct the dial. I would be sure to alert him of how much trouble he was in, just as soon as I had my nourishment.

While I waited on the mystery pastry to toast, I selected a glass from the cabinet so that I could prepare my daily allotment of calcium. The eight ounce glass was never in the same place, despite the fact that I used it each morning. It was an occurrence I blamed on my elder brother, as I was certain I replaced it where I had found it every time I finished with it. It was just his style to interfere with my orderly routine for no apparent reason. He would never know that his attempts had failed – searching had indeed become part of my routine.

After pouring milk up to the mark I had made on the outside of the glass, I looked around fervently before dripping a tiny amount of chocolate syrup in and stirring it with my straw. If my family knew I indulged in such a thing as chocolate syrup, they might start trying to feed me horrendous things like milkshakes and candy again. I had only just broken them of that.

I took a sip of the barely-sweetened milk as I walked back over to the toaster. I had laid the packet of icing next to the appliance, in hopes that this would defrost it somewhat, but a soft, experimental tap on the counter revealed it to still be quite solid. I dropped it unceremoniously into the trash receptacle. I had no time for such a frivolous thing; I was growing more and more ravenous each second.

It seemed an eternity before the pastry popped cheerfully out of the toaster. I stood over the inconspicuous-yet-undoubtedly-evil device the entire time like a starving jackal, clutching my milk in both hands. At some point my elder brother wandered in, hair ruffled and eyes dim from sleep, and poured an enormous amount of sugary cereal into a bowl meant to aid with baking. He added no milk and so used no spoon, but retrieved a half-gallon of orange juice from the refrigerator before meandering into the living room to watch television.

At long last my pastry leaped out of the toaster, greeting my waiting fingers with its perfectly-browned, slightly crunchy outer layer when I seized it to place it on my plate. I sniffed it, but still could not discern what flavor it may hold in its insides. Bearing plate and glass, I joined my brother on the couch.

His messy head perks up at the smell of my breakfast, and with hungry eyes he asks, “You gonna eat all that?”

As I am famished and the pastry is roughly four inches by three, I reply that yes, I do indeed intend to eat it all. His shoulders droop, but sadness is soon forgotten when the sports segment of the morning news program comes on.

I begin to doubt my irrational decision to throw caution to the wind and try this mystery pastry. The heavenly aroma wafting off of it is too good to be true – surely the filling will be some repulsive concoction of cinnamon or cream cheese or cloyingly sweet chocolate. But I take a steadying sip of milk, and after reassuring myself that even my mother would not buy such a thing, I sink my eager teeth into the yielding flesh of the pasty.

Oh. Cinnamon. I pause, my meal still clenched in my mouth. My brother looks over at me curiously, no doubt wondering why I haven’t immediately consumed the food I claimed I would eat all of.

Cinnamon. Ordinarily I would reject such a thing, but … dammit, I’m hungry.



* * * * * * * * * * * *

I'm mainly concerned about the voice - if it ended up sounding wannabe-ish or authentic. I'm especially afraid I went overboard towards the end. Also, whether or not some of the paragraphs should be split up. Fun fact: semi-true story. And as I said, crits shall be returned.

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"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think —"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.

OldGreg

The language seemed heavily inflated and flowery considering the subject.

__________________
I'm Old Greg!

BoredMormon

Loved it. I can just imagine many of the girls I know thinking exactly like that, on one of the more fuzzy days.

Quote:

searching had indeed become part of my routine

Brilliant line.

But I must say I was slightly dissapointed with the last line. Not sure what I expected. But blueberry seemed to be a bit of a dissapointment. Maybe stretch it out slightly, add some line about the texture or something. I dunno.

__________________
I pointed to the cover, which said 'best-selling' and not 'best-writing', and recommended she drop creative writing class and study sales. - Robert Kiyosaki

SparkyLT

OldGreg - Thanks for the input.

BoredMormon - "Fuzzy?" Hahah, that's one way to put it, I guess. As for the last line, I'm not sure what I expected either. I didn't know how to end it. Thankee for the comment.

__________________
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think —"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.

Dreamworx95

Nice job, Sparky. I really enjoyed this. Don't worry about the voice. I disagree with OldGreg about it sounding too flowery for the subject, I think the tone combined with the simple subject adds the perfect touch of humor as well as showing off how splendid your writing ability is.

I can't really see a point or message in this story, but I'm pretty sure that's not what you were going for. I commend you for being able to write a short story, as I can't write one without turning it into a boring 500 page novel. *frown*

Nicely done,

Dream

__________________
The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.
~Oscar Wilde~

Please donate a critique. It's for a good cause:
http://www.writingforums.com/writers...ml#post1270849

SparkyLT

Dream - Heh, I have to opposite problem. My laptop is littered with completed shorts and likely-never-to-be-finished novels. A point or message? Yeah I don't think I do those. Certainly not before breakfast. Thank'st thou.

__________________
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think —"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.

OldGreg

Well, see. I read this as making a serious attempt to describe an ordinary / uneventful day with flowery prose.

Is it supposed to comedy? If that's the case it makes more sense. I just didn't read it as comedic the first time through. Especially since you questioned the voice of your narrator. It lead me to believe you were afraid the character was too formal, I guess.

__________________
I'm Old Greg!

SparkyLT

Well, it's supposed to be unintentional comedy, if that makes any sense. To her, it's all very important and worth that flowery language; to us, it's not, and her treatment of the situation is (hopefully) amusing. It certainly wasn't meant to be serious. I was just afraid the joke dragged on too long. Thanks for coming back, by the way.

__________________
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think —"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.

Dreamworx95

Don't worry. It worked really well. You pulled it off great. You got some talent, girlie.

__________________
The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.
~Oscar Wilde~

Please donate a critique. It's for a good cause:
http://www.writingforums.com/writers...ml#post1270849

SparkyLT

. . . Ok, what do you want, Dream?

__________________
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think —"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.

OldGreg

I get it now. I won't lie. It's not really my type of humor. I see how it's supposed to be humorous but I'm more into potty jokes. So maybe I'm not the best person to ask.

What I can say is that it's easily one of the better pieces I've seen written here. A breath of fresh air from the glut of fantasy that gets posted.

__________________
I'm Old Greg!

Dreamworx95

Haha, nothing I swear! I'd ask you to read my second chapter, but unfortunately I haven't finished it yet. Besides, I know you'd read it anyways, my loyal fan. ^_^ Kidding of course.

__________________
The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.
~Oscar Wilde~

Please donate a critique. It's for a good cause:
http://www.writingforums.com/writers...ml#post1270849

SparkyLT

OldGreg - Well, if it's just not your thing, I can't expect a completely unbiased crit. Thanks for reading it anyway, though.

Dream - Hey, if it's worth reading, I read it

__________________
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think —"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.

RogueGunslinger

Since there's nothing really to here critique but style, and such is only the matter of opinion, you can take the following as such; Opinion.

What starts as a mildly interesting delve into a mildly interesting woman, ends up as a uninteresting bag of hot air. I find no real substance or humor in the piece, though the grammar does flow, and there seems to be no real mistakes.

Many time it seems as though you're throwing out descriptions with the intention of wit or to more vibrantly paint the scene, and sometimes they even hint at such things. But, honestly, it reads as if you were trying your best to turn such a minuscule task as finding something to eat into the depth and description one might take a whole chapter in a book.

The writing hardly ever hints at something interesting to come, though due to it's shortness it's apparent why. This isn't meant to hold some clever weight as a piece of intelligent writing. I'd liken it to something more of a writing exercise in attempting to drag out the most menial task as long as possible.


I'd deem this sentence pointless. Obviously you are hungry, and does the "many bad things in freezer" really pertain much? This whle sentence choke the flow for me.


I have a hard time likening the sound of ice on wood to a metal hammer on stone.

Quote:

She sighed, and I fully expected to hear another comment on my questionable sanity, but instead she opted to quit the kitchen.

She's not given a comment to her sanity yet, and why would she?



Bolded part isn't really needed.

Quote:

I looked around fervently before dripping

fer⋅vent
/ˈfɜrvənt/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [fur-vuhnt] Show IPA –adjective 1. having or showing great warmth or intensity of spirit, feeling, enthusiasm, etc.; ardent: a fervent admirer; a fervent plea. 2. hot; burning; glowing.


Perhaps you mean furtively?


fur⋅tive

  /ˈfɜrtɪv/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [fur-tiv] Show IPA –adjective 1. taken, done, used, etc., surreptitiously or by stealth; secret: a furtive glance. 2. sly; shifty: a furtive manner.
This implies that it popped prematurely.

Quote:

I stood over the inconspicuous-yet-undoubtedly-evil device

Why is the toaster evil?


You seem to slipp out of tense a cuple times, but other than that this is all I could really find wrong.

Once again, it's opinion.

__________________
The Chronicles of Shifting - advice, input, critique and thoughts welcome on my current WIP.

SparkyLT

RogueGunslinger - Opinion taken onboard, though, judging from some of your specified comments, I think you might've missed the point. But no matter - it's a stupid kind of humor, I don't expect it to appeal to everyone. Thanks for catching that ferventy\furitively thing. I do it a lot for some reason.

__________________
"Really, now you ask me," said Alice, very much confused, "I don't think —"
"Then you shouldn't talk," said the Hatter.