eggo

Well in continuing my serial story, I had an idea for a second one. This turned into a 3200 word monster that I just finished. I will post the first part and hold back the second until after you have a chance to digest a bit. I also tried a different way of editing my story, so let me know if its working.


I Listened to Mr. Klacke as he told me about Whatever Inc. while I mentally drew bushy eyebrows on him and blackened his teeth.

“ This company was founded by a man who wanted something done and couldn’t find anybody to do it. He got irritated and decided to form a company that does anything, anytime for whoever, wherever.”

“ So, say Imelda Marcos needs some shoes polished?” I asked.

“ We show up with a 55 gallon drum of shoe polish and a smile on our faces, anyone, anytime. I would like to start you off with an easy assignment, something that’s not too far over your head. Let’s see if you can swim a bit, before we add waves. Be here at eight-o-clock tomorrow morning,” he looked down his long nose at me, “ Clean shaven and bathed preferably.”

“ There is the question of money,” I said.

“ You will receive remuneration on a…” He stopped as I opened my eyes wide and looked at the ceiling.

“ You need some money now?” he asked and I nodded.

I walked down the street minutes later with some money in my pocket and a song in my heart. It wasn’t exactly a song and it wasn’t exactly my heart, but when in Paris.

I returned to the house at seven forty-five the next morning limping a bit after being kicked in the shin by a beautiful girl. It was a case of mistaken identity. I wanted to find out her identity and she thought it was a mistake. The night turned into hazy mist as the empty bottles piled up on the bar. I met a blonde who was more receptive and nursed my wounded leg.

Instead of ringing the doorbell, I decided to knock on the door. Just as my knuckles went into a forward motion, the door flew opened. The women who had given me the test opened the door and said, “ You’re late.”

“ I’m fifteen minutes early,” I said.

“ You are late for being early, the car is waiting at the corner.”

As we walked down to the corner, I was thinking about her compactness, the way she moved. We climbed into a waiting limo. As the car sped off I thought it was a good to learn something, anything about anytime, anywhere.

“ So what do I call you?”

“ You may call me Miss Vicki.”

“ Well Miss Vicki, you can…”

“ I can call you Calvin Crocker. That’s the name you’ll use from here on.”

“ Great name, who thought it up, Grandpa Klacke?”

“ Mister Klacke is a great humanitarian and a very sharp businessman.”
“ Miss Vicki!” I said, “ You and Mister Klacke? Sounds rather kinky to me.”

She turned and looked at me and stuck out her tongue. She was quiet the rest of the ride, which turned out to be rather short. The limo pulled up to the curb and Vicki presented me with some overalls.

“ Put these on over you clothes.” I struggled into them in the back of the limo.

“You rent a limo, but skimp on the changing room.”

She ignored me and handed me a cup, “ Drink this.”

I looked down into the cup and then back at her.

“It’s water,” she said disgustedly and continued.

“ That Water bottle truck out there is your first assignment. We are just outside the La Défense business center. You are to drive the truck onto rue Michelet to the north side of the Total building,” she continued handing a clipboard, “ The building has 48 floors and is the tallest in La Défense, you are to make deliveries on the floors mentioned on the clipboard.”

I looked at the clipboard and it had 10 floors for deliveries on the 9th through the 16th, omitting the 17th and the 18th and then deliveries on the 19th through the 21st. There were to be two bottles delivered per floor. This would be a piece of cake.

“ There are a few other things Mr. Crocker.”

“ Call me Calvin,” I said as I downed the drink.

“ You can use the freight elevators up to the 9th, after that it’s the stairs, Mr. Crocker. Every bottle must be replaced on each floor. Under no circumstances are you to answer any questions by the security personnel in the building, even though you speak French.”

“ Are you crazy? One gallon of water weighs 8 pounds and each of those containers is five gallons, that’s 40 pounds per container. There are ten floors for deliveries times two per floor is 20 bottles at 40 pounds each. That is 800 pounds that you want me to carry up 12 flights of stairs!”

“ Hmmm…let me make a call,” she said as she opened her cell phone and dialed a number. She spoke quietly for a few minutes and after nodding a few times, closed the phone.

“You can use the freight elevator on all deliveries except the 19th, 20th and the 21st, but you have to be done by ten o’clock this morning.” This building had no 13th floor like most, the engineers following tradition.

Being a highly intelligent person, I was now totally confused. We settled on a makeshift map with floors and elevator shafts, using red pens to X out the ones I was not to intrude on, drawn hastily on a napkin.

I opened the limo door and headed to my truck. After driving the water truck down the Rue Michelet and around the back of the Total building, I got out of the truck and pulled out the hand truck. The bottles were in crates that allowed me to pile up six bottles on the skid. I put a bungee cord around them to hold the bottles together and tilted it back. It was eight o’ two.

I walked across the sidewalk without a care in the world right towards the delivery door and two security guards. Apparently I should have kept looking down as a rolled right over a rock someone had left there. The load of water bottles shifted left and right as I balanced the hand truck on one wheel then the other. I strained to keep the hand truck level and after about twenty feet, I got it under control.

This was the focus of great hilarity to the two security guards, who were laughing as I approached them. I shrugged as they waved me through the checkpoint and pushed the hand truck down the hall and then onto the elevator. I decided to do the lower floors first and work my way back up; I pushed the button for 9th floor. The cables ground away as the elevator lifted me up.

The doors opened and I saw that both water coolers at either end of the hallway. I approached the first, took off the quarter filled bottle and dumped the rest in the men’s room and then same with the second. People were milling around doing this job or that, oblivious to my coming and going. To join the ranks of automatons pressing the proverbial red button over and over is something I don’t think I could ever do.

The closest I came to human contact was a sneer from some hairless executive, who was drinking from the cooler when I arrived to change it. I smiled and waited patiently as he filled his cup once more to keep me waiting. With a half lilting smile, he crumpled the paper cup and missed the trashcan with it. I picked up the cup, changed the bottle and headed down the elevator. I crossed the 9th, 10th and 11th off my list. I headed down to the truck to get some more jugs. This process repeated itself wearily through all the floors, until at last all the lower floors were checked off.

After going back to the street, I gathered my last load for the 19th, 20th and 21st, these were to be hand delivered.

As I rode up the elevator, I thought about my first job.

My father arranged for me to work for a friend of his who owned a horse farm. Being a teenager, I was filled with anticipation of “ working around the stables”, delivering hay, watering down the horses, and maybe even taking them out for ride. I remember not sleeping that much the night before.

I arrived the next day fresh and ready for my job. Upon arrival I was promptly handed a pitchfork and shown the “stables”. I found out that horses spend a lot of time during the winter inside crapping where they stand. After four months of this, it was time to clean it up. That was where I came in.

Sixteen stalls had to be cleaned and it was deep and smelled like what it was. I stood there holding the pitchfork in my hands and decided to give it a try. As I stabbed the pitchfork into the mess, I got madder. How could my Dad stick me with a job like this? What the hell did he think I was? And as I got madder I stabbed harder, my face dripping with sweat and my muscles tensed with rage and then it happened.

I stabbed right down through my boots so hard; it went right down through my boot and into the sole of my shoe. I stared at it for 10 seconds and pulled it back out of the toe of my boot. Flashes of a manure encrusted pitchfork tine ripping through my foot trampled through my mind. I dropped and ripped off my boot and peeled off my sock. The tine had gone right in between my toes. My foot was untouched.

I finished all the stables without a word or gripe over the next two weeks and walked away. When you are ankle deep, shovel the shit and keep your mouth shut.

Isis

This has a lot of places it can go. It reminded me of a story idea I'd seen somewhere for "Karma, Inc" where a group of people get paid to incur bad luck on others. Flat tires, lost jobs...I thought it was pretty interesting, and I thought this was as well. The dialouge was pretty good, but I want to know a little more about how this guy got in with Whatever, Inc. Something tells me it's not as straightforward as it seems.

I did, however, glaze over the math parts of it. I know it's part of the story, and I might be tuning out because it's late for me. If you want to change it, you could try something along the lines of:
"That's..." I did the math in my head. "Eight-hundred pounds you want me to carry up 12 flights of stairs!"
Anyone else do this, or is it me being stupid and tired?

I liked the flashback at the end, but part of it was hard to discern as a flashback.

__________________

The Jackal: Half a million. In cash. Half in advance, and half on completion.
Montclair: Half a million francs?
The Jackal: Dollars.
Montclair: Are you mad?
The Jackal: Considering you expect to get France in return, I'd have thought it a reasonable price

Hodge

Very good! Very weird! Absurd, even. Your style seems different in this one... I can't quite put my finger on it, but this reminds me of a movie I've seen. The style, I mean. Not the content.

One thing:

This seems forced. And it's a rather cliché joke.

Otherwise, I can't wait to read part two.

__________________
Science

Keridwen

This is a great sequel!!

I must disagree, Hodge, I think the joke, while it may sound a little bit forced is effective nonetheless, and its indicative of the protagonist's character.

I loved that line!! Keep it coming!!

Chris Miller

Nice clean prose. The story is so banal and yet well told that I read on. I mean, something has got to give. Right? I liked the anecdote about the muck boot (sounds true too). Not sure how it fits here, guess I’ll have to wait and see. Like the way your guy keeps slamming out the one-liners. They work to develop his character. But, for this to be truly and enduringly funny, you are going to have to breathe some emotional depth into it at some point I feel. We are going to want to see this guy cry too (figuratively speaking) IMHO.

Continued what?

Ah. But needs comma or word or something.

a=I

Word missing. Or extra words... not sure.


I look forward to seeing the rest of this eggo!

__________________
the fairwriting blogs

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

gohn67

Hey Eggo,
I liked this story. The humor is great, it made me laugh out loud a few times. I'm interested in seeing how this whole story pans out.

Do you have everything planned out already? Or are you improvising as you go for each new installment.?

I think you new editing strategy worked. I think I saw about two errors. But one of them may not even be an error. So I think it's working.

Listened should be lowercased.

This doesn't seem like a complete sentence.

Good job, Eggo. Keep it coming.

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The Frowning Dog Blog

Wyndstar

Oooohhh---I wanna be Miss Vicky when I grow up.

I love the dry humor in this, and that its written as something so fantastic, despite the element of the mundane (delivering water). It just keeps me reading, even though I know its not done, and I hate not knowing the ending. I'm so glad you decided to continue this eggo.

Apparently, I'm better at inspiring than actually DOING the thing...

__________________
Old enough to know better, young enough to think I can still get away with it.

semtecks

Very funny. it was as if the narrator was a stand up comedian. I loved this line:

It was a case of mistaken identity. I wanted to find out her identity and she thought it was a mistake.

Everybody thinks i'm crazy because i was laughing so hard.

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http://semtecks.bebo.com

eggo

Thanks everyone,

some great comments. Had some trouble with the site, will reply tonight.

eggo

Sorry it took so long to get back,

Isis

Thanks for reading. I wrote this story as part of a serial short story, so left myself all sorts of directions to go in. I would like to drag this guy from story to story, and see where it leads.

You can read my other story here,

http://www.writingforums.com/viewtopic.php?t=22306

This explains how he got involved with this company to begin with. It was a rough draft I threw out for feedback on the plot and I had some favorable reviews. The company origins will unfold layer upon layer as the story progresses.

Hodge

Heh, heh I was shooting for something a bit left of center and am glad I hit it. Let me know if you remember the movie it reminds you of, I would be interested if I am writing subliminaly.

Keridwen

Glad you liked the joke. This story is deluged in one-liners, as i am sure you know. Sometimes they work and sometimes they don't. I try to keep the pace moving fast enough that you spend to much time on the klunkers. No one drives slowly past road kill.

Chris Miller

Thanks for the kudos. I tried to make a boring, empty job into an adventure story. Sick huh? I was worried that I would write it and it would be like watching paint dry.

From a guy whom I consider a very good technical writer, i'll take it, grammatically challenged hack I am.
gohn67

Hey! This story is finished and needs editing on the last bit. Each installment will write itself when it comes to me. I have nothing planned, A few ideas but nothing solid.

I am glad you approve of my new editing process. I print out a hard copy and sit down and read it. There must be something about a computer screen that destroys my editing powers.

Thanks for reading.

Wyndstar

I am indebted for this new angle of writing to you. In return you can be Miss Vicki anytime you want, but growing up is boring.

Comedy and bits of the fantastic can can be found in everyday activities all the time. I think it's my job as a writer to make the mundane fantastic and the fantastic mundane ( sounds like a great ice cream flavor).

I'll be posting the second half in a few days,

Thanks Wyndy

semtecks

Thanks for reading semtecks. Hope I didn't get you into to much trouble.