Due on Maple Street

The Bikini Baristas were awesome. After weeks of staring at the stand and feeling curious Jason's wife finally pulled up to the stand one afternoon before picking up their son from school.

Jason stared. Ogled. Gawked.

Alita elbowed him and told him to stop.

He swivelled his head to look at her disapprovingly. "Hello, that's the whole point." he muttered under his breath. "If I don't stare at her she'll be insulted."

From the back seat their oldest daughter at 5 years old announced "She's naked." and giggled giddily.

Alita turned in her seat and shushed the girl. "She is not, she has on a bra and panties.

Jason wiped at a strand of imaginary saliva.

The barista was incredible. Hot. Sexy. Gorgeous. Friendly. She was the first female to smile at him in a long time. Her breasts were a handful and clad in a green bra with white polka dots. She was curvy and her belly button was pierced, a strand of silver hung down to her bikini line. When she spun around to blend their drinks he could see the dimple of her smooth ass. Jason shivered.

"You know the coffee has got to be good." He had told his wife.

"Why is that?" Alita had inquired.

"In case a woman stumbles across this place unsuspecting of what it really is." he stated simply. "I mean, a guy would never say that the coffee was bad. He would just wait until he was down the road a ways and pour it out, or just drink it anyways."

"That so?"

Jason had nodded. And after seeing, he squinted at the neon ink on the window, Holly's ass he could see that no matter what he would be at least half correct. He would tell Holly that the coffee was awesome.

"Why don't you ask her for her number." Alita asked defensively.

Jason spun to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"She's naked daddy."

"No she isn't."

"Yuh huh."

"You brought me here." Jason said feeling exasperated. He spun to stare at Holly's smooth ass. It was her idea to come here in the first place. He had said he could do without. Of course after getting up close he knew that he couldn't. "Why don't you wear anything like that?" he asked.

Alita gave him an icy glare. Her baby blues froze him for a moment and he returned his attention to the beautiful young lady blending his coffee.

"Just a simple question."

"I'm too fat." Alita replied grabbing her belly and shaking it.

"Bullshit. You're beautiful." Jason replied without taking his eyes off of Holly.

"Oh yeah?" Alita asked and cleared her throat.

Jason nodded. In the background the blender growled. For a moment no one said anything. Jason was afraid to say anything, he didn't want to die in his sleep. He did think Alita was gorgeous, but she did need to lose some weight. For herself, so that she felt more comfortable wearing a garter belt. Jason turned to her.

"Really, I would love to come home and see you wearing something like that."

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I know that evening's empire has returned into sand, vanished from my hand, left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping

Critique is always welcome. I will try to return the favor.

Sparkscout

I don't see any end to this story.

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The sky is green?

shraga

This first sentence is rather confusing. Maybe " for weeks Jason had been staring at the stand when they passed it on the way to his son's scholl. Finally, Alita, Jason's wife, pulled over for a cup of iced coffee."

You randomly start using names like Alita and Holly without truly explaining who is who.
Also, they are on his way to their son's school yet they have a little girl in the back seat, do they have another kid?

Also you should get an ending, the story just kinda stops in the middle, it doesn't go anywhere.

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Shraga Y. Weissmann
Israel
Pease critique my humor for Chompers (744 words)

Rogozhin

Your coffee allegory sucks.

I like my women like I like my coffee, blended with a quart of vodka.

This is a weird story about a personal problem. I used to write a lot like that, until I realized they sounded stilted. You can make them funny though. Try not being such a hardass with the realistic dialogue.

SevenWritez

Well this is going to end well.

Perhaps yours just sucked? I'm gathering a suspicion, you see.

Yeah, Maple Street, he's right. Fuck realistic dialogue, use some stilted shit to further fuck up your writing.

Anyways, on to my real post. I found this to be a nice jump into a character's head, and I loved the tension you showed stemming from the wife. I believe that this truly does hit home with how many couples seem to be now. I won't go on a crusade and speak of what I felt you were getting at, but I did see something in this story that made me finish it with a smile. The writing, aside from the second sentence, was clear and crisp, not too poetic, but not too dry. The dialogue was excellent, as it didn't feel forced as many conversations in the short stories here are. Your second sentence needs to be reworked, but other than that, I found this to be very well done. Good job, and I look forward to more.

Rogozhin

The barista was incredible. Hot. Sexy. Gorgeous. Friendly. She was the first female to smile at him in a long time. Her breasts were a handful and clad in a green bra with white polka dots. She was curvy and her belly button was pierced, a strand of silver hung down to her bikini line. When she spun around to blend their drinks he could see the dimple of her smooth ass. Jason shivered.

"You know the coffee has got to be good." He had told his wife.

"Why is that?" Alita had inquired.

"In case a woman stumbles across this place unsuspecting of what it really is." he stated simply. "I mean, a guy would never say that the coffee was bad. He would just wait until he was down the road a ways and pour it out, or just drink it anyways."

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So what the man is saying essentially is that, he loves his wife, but he'd screw this chick then dump her?

Yeah, that's realistic.

Totally see myself telling my wife that in a prosaic and poetical way.

I disagree, I'm not saying this is terrible. It's a fine piece of introspection, but the problem is, since I doubt it was the authors own introspection, it sounds forced. Moreover, I'd never treat my wife like that, and who does he think he is taking his kid to ogle at some broad? None of that “inner tension” was ever mentioned.

But it was passive aggressive as hell I'd give it that.

It's not a story. It's just a picture of something that happened. I used to take a lot of pictures until I found stories more exciting. Maybe he should work, you know, a visible protagonist and antagonist into the background between the wife and hubby, instead of just chucking us into the middle of an embarrassing argument that, I as a reader, could give two shits about.

I need explosions and stuff. Am I rite?

SevenWritez

You wouldn't, but there are many who would, and that's where it gains credibility in my eyes. Of course, this all opinion in regards to taste, but carrying on...


Pictures can be just as moving as full on stories. The trend that has come to truly piss me off and annoy me is that somehow every story must have a beginning, middle, and end, with a point, message, and moral. I'm not saying you are trying to enforce this viewpoint, but that first line in the quote above makes brings me memories of all the people who seem to say stories need them. You have novels, you have music, and you have photographs. Short stories can describe a scene (a picture) and make it touching. Just my two cents, but one I stand by.

There is no need for a protagonist in the typical sense, and the antagonist is the wife's insecurity. I didn't truly come to lke this piece until the end where the writer puts in, "He did think Alita was gorgeous, but she did need to lose some weight. For herself, so that she felt more comfortable wearing a garter belt." Followed by the ending line of dialogue.

A husband who perhaps truly does love his wife driven to gawking at other women due to the insecurity he deals with on a day to day basis. The wife reminds me of a close friend of mine who is constantly insecure about her weight. She has a beautiful face, a gorgeous smile, and a slightly larger stomach, but nothing that would make anyone consider her overweight. The wife in this story reminded me of her, and the husband reminded me of myself when I got fed up with her and started talking about the body of other girls for awhile rather than trying to cheer her up.

From what I have seen in my modest 17 years of life, this story is honest and raw in it's quick insight, but for you perhaps it is bland and pointless. Maybe the writer was bored, maybe the writer intended something entirely different, all I know is that I found it to resonate very well when comparing it with things I have both seen and been through.

However, again, the criticisms of writing is something based entirely off personal preference, so I'll just stick to my opinion and allow you to stick to yours. [/quote]


Hecks yeah dawg, we need some gangstas'n shit up in heres shootin' each othas faggot asses up.

Nah, I like my character driven stories. Number9Dream, Catcher in the Rye, Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao...Mmm

Besides, I use videogames for my explosions'n shit(GRAND THEFT AUTO 4, APRIL 29TH, BITCHES! MWAR HAR HAR HAR!).

I'm an arrogant 17 year old, you'll have to forgive me for beating up virtual hookers and laughing about it.


EDIT: Hey Maple, I liked this story enough to go check for more under your profile. I just finished your "Supersize that?" (Can't recall the actual name, seeing a sI glimpsed at it) story and have to say, that was great! I'm going to go see what else I can salvage from your posts, but I really enjoy your style (you have a knack for capturing a character early on, which is great). Can't wait to see more from you.

Wadatrip

Sorry, I saw "ogled. Gawked." and and lost interest.