Danny77

This story first started out, like most of my stories, as a comedy. However, after several paragraphs it just wasnt working, and I started over. Its still got some humor in its roots, but its more than that. Among other criticisms, this is what I want to know...What do you think this story is? What does it mean to you?


Bobby Dangler


We were at the boys basketball game, jeering at the other team, and enjoying eachothers comradery. It was then, during a timeout, that it happened. All of a sudden a naked body emerged from a small crowd by the door. Masked only by his pants strewn haphazardly over his face, he made his way across the court. The crowd's sound level was at its usual level as I first noticed something terribly wrong out of the corner of my eye. It was no other than a streaker making his way across the gym floor.

As he neared midcourt, stunned eyes from every corner of the gym started to notice. Though pants covered his face, his timid and uncertain spirit shown through like a blazing coal. With each long footstep, the crowd noise level stepped down a notch until it was completely silent. All that could be heard was the long stride of his every move, and the heart pounding within each and every one of us. It was then that I realized he was making his way towards the far exit, right next to us. Unfortunately that gave us a very unnesesary front view. Bouncing up and down like a water balloon on a trampoline, we saw it all. Each and every step gave the masked hero an unfortunate boost of confidence.

I somehow had a terrible fantasy of throwing my pop bottle at his feet. In this frozen dream, a well timed and perfectly executed throw resulted in the end of this young man. As it tripped him up, his eyes caught a hold of mine. Right before his body hit the ground, time stood still. 'Why?' he asked. I then pressed the play button on my mental VCR, and his body came crashing to the ground. He slid across the glistening floor, as several adults, including the overweight rent-a-cop who angerily deserted his donut quickly collapsed on the now crushed soul. People began to laugh as every nerve in his body was stretched and broken. They carted him off into the hallway, with his head hung low, embarrassed.

I bounced back into reality, wondering how I could concoct such a horrible nightmare. His trip was nearly complete as he approached the last bleacher. Every head watched as he rounded the corner, exited the door, and entered manhood. We sat there for several seconds, not a lip dare move. Complete shock was more than an understatement. We looked around at eachother, eyes wide, jaws dropped, and mothers hands held over kids faces. We searched for words to say, for meaning, for answers to what had just happened, but they just didn't come.

After this infinite pause, a plague of crooked smiles started to infect the vulnerable young man. Our smirks soon turned to laughter, as the entire gym was engulfed in a terrible storm of humor. After the poisinous amusement exited our system, we began to ask questions. Every man, women, and child was a reporter for the New York Times. Whether by the recognition skills of the town whore, or of several insiders, one name began to repeat. The never ending drone went on and on, like a broken record doomed to repeat the same half message over and over til eternitys end. McCreedy, McCreedy, McCreedy.

Unlike his three day suspension, his rewards lasted forever. As the imaginary tablet of school history etched his name into its timeless marble body, we came up with one last conclusion. Not only would his legacy live on forever, but so would our scars. We had been scalded by the worst bruise of all: the animated mental picture of another mans penis.

Danny Hankner

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The Salad Bar Game

eggo

Hey Dan man,

It's missing the comic element. It isn't really defined as any particular piece and reads quite like a newspaper report of an event. I would go back and introduce the comedy thats missing.

"...each others..."
[/quote]It was no other than a streaker making his way across the gym floor. [quote]
It was none other...

Although...

time stood still,"Why?" he would ask.

It's important you keep track of your tenses in this passage.

Like this bit.

..their kids faces.

...became a reporter...

Funny.

At least one word escaped your spell check , so I would run it through again.I would think about re-introducing that comedic element. Its already there just need a few more gems.

Thanks

Chris Miller

"eacb other's"

I'm not sure I'd worry about trying to make it funny. The problem is finding meaning. It is way too verbose and you try to make it melodramatic--and fail. Sorry, but seeing some guy's limp dick isn't going to traumatize anyone.

Either write it as a concise newspaper type report. Or make it subjective and personal and tell me why it bothers the narrator so much. Don't try to mix the two though.

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the fairwriting blogs

Barcelona Review story: http://www.barcelonareview.com/64/e_cm.html

sammisan

I agree. It seems like you couldn't decide whether you were giving an account of a story or telling a story. It also seems like you're going back and forth between telling a comedic tail about an event at a basketball game and some sort of coming of age story. I think the potential is there for either route, but you need to pick one, stick with it, and make the theme clear.

There's good writing here. Keep revising.

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~Sami
"Darkwing Duck. When there's trouble you call D.W. Darkwing Duck. Let's get dangerous!"