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Cuppy
December 18th, 2011, 08:34 PM
There is going to be a lot of language in this. The rest of the material itself is innately offensive. Don't read it if you don't like bad language.

This is a piece I wrote. It's pretty weird, and there's a part that needs re-writing (I'm too lazy to find it right now)

Chapter One.


Dim room. Music, painful to listen to, was wafting around the smoke. The entire bar, caked in a fine layer of grease. The musicians played lazily, as if they were simply a loathsome pile of fat men with nothing to do than have a Twinkie eating race. For the most part, they were. Except for one, the skinniest, greasiest, and least talented of the bunch. Putting down his saxophone every now and then to shriek about the failures of the other band members, how it was always someone else’s fault. The man looked like a pig, wore his party in the back, and smelled like shit. Called himself “Freak.”


One good decision later.


“Who the fuck was it that replaced me!” The Pig Freak harped at a fat pile, as it slinked toward him.


“I don‘t know his name, but he‘s pretty. I hired him because he’s talented. He’s a pro. It’s like he has sex with the sax.” The fat-man chuckled at how witty he was. “And it can’t hurt to have some a little more… uh…”


“A little more what? Pretty? Lamar, I’m the prettiest you can afford to hire.” He wasn’t.


Lamar winced at this lie. “You’re not talented, though. We need a guy that can play well enough so that the other guys don’t attract attention. The bar’s going under any day now, and we need all the talent we can get. Besides, it’s not like they’re gonna miss you.”


“Fuck you!” Freak screamed as he stormed out, tears in his eyes. He’d been evicted out of his apartment, his girlfriend got laser eye surgery, then he was kicked out of a pack of dogs because he wasn’t good enough.


“I’ll find a cave. Live there ‘till I die. Coming out only when I have a great song to show off. That’ll show them.” He thought as he wandered the streets in a stupor of rage and hatred. The last time he made a promise to himself was when he said he wouldn’t send any more poison muffins to people until he was rich enough to pay for it. The resulting jazz group had their last concert firebombed after they renounced their instruments, in favor of beat boxing.


After hours of wandering the city and nearby woods, he found a cave. No more then a hole in the ground with a lid.


“Fall asleep, wake up in a million years or so…” He said to himself, more to soothe his rage then anything. “Maybe I’m not that good. At anything… Nah! They’re just jealous.” This stunning conclusion was followed almost immediately by the sweet relief of Dreamland…


Chapter Two: Dreamland.


The misty highlands were a strange place. Corpses walking out of tombs complaining to local barons about how they wouldn‘t have allowed this to happen. Strange wizards appearing, clearly the cause of the walking corpses. New knights were appearing out of nowhere. Walking out of the woods as if they just sprang out of holes in the ground. Their ideas and language was too romanticized for them not to be frauds. And this new, “Freak,” character the worst of the bunch, tramping around with that damned bard of his. He’d already declared war on three people, attempted to levy a tax on large pants, and barraged a town with lutes which killed a man, and were thrown out of a different town for violently singing poetry to women. The highlands were quickly becoming a dangerous place.


“Hah!” Freak let out a hearty laugh. “I think it’s high time that we took care of those fish people that have been insulting my horse.”


“Senor, I think you mean the donkey you stole.” Said Poncho, the fat friar.
“Hold you tongue, Poncho! Or else you’ll never see your eyes again.” Freak declared in disgust.


“I once had a donkey, but alas! His hooves could not walk the clouds of love!” Sang the Bard.


Freak bolted around in his saddle: “Hah! Sing again the dashing tales of the Wandering Freak.” They continued on the path to Nowhere with the Bard singing of the encounter with Ye Olde Douche Bag, and how Freak defeated him. As they walked the path the forest they saw a river, the sun shone a stone bridge over the river


“I wish I had gills.” Said Berry the shoe.


“If I were a man with gills I would be a fish!” The Bard declared.


“Halt all ye poets!” A mysterious voice shouted. “All ye who pass, must pay tribute.”


“I pay no tribute to disembodied voices!” Freak shouted indignantly.


“Then I shall reveal myself and receive my tribute.” Suddenly a strange creature stepped out from under the bridge.


“What creature thus challenges me? Be a fish, or bird, or man? Perhaps a flower? Seriously? This is weird.


“I am Barbarossa the fish God! And I have come for your souls!” Said the thing that was ugly.


“Why do we have to give you our souls AND a tribute?” Said the Bard.


“We don’t! Kill him!” Said Freak as they charged forward and beat him to death.


“Why did you do that?” Berry asked, shocked at the barbarity. “I’m not sure if I should hang out with you guys if you’re running around whoopin’ ass…”


“Come on Berry!” Freak said, slyly. “You’re the life of the group, without you I’m stuck with a pretty cool bard, and a fat monk. Don’t be that way.”


“Senor, I believe that Berry should be allowed to leave. This group is a democracy, after all.” Poncho said in his broken English.


“You’re right… Berry, I hope we can meet each other again. Maybe when you’ve seen the true face of the world.” Freak slumped in his saddle, a broken man.

I wrote a little more where it turns out that Berry can't even move without someone inside him. But I'll add that later.

Kevin
December 23rd, 2011, 03:20 AM
So,
About now, you're getting sick of hearing 'crickets' every time you check the site...chirp, chirp, chirp...
(hello?...is anyone out there?) So what do they think of it? Do they hate it? Did they even read it? Maybe it sucks so bad they just read a few lines and moved on...

What do I think about it?

It's a little too chaotic, disjointed, obscure, difficult, incomprehensible,

and...

it's also

raw, dark, humorous, bizarre and especially, raw(did I already say that?) which makes it very modern. You've already started with the "character developement". The ProTg's introspection, his reactions...realism?self portrayal? He's full of faults. It's good. I don't exactly like him(yet?) but I'm interested to see what happens to him next. Oh, and the nightclub's atmosphere, even the musicians' attitudes, it all reminds me of some of the dives I frequented in my youth.

So, who cares what they say or don't say? What do YOU have to say? Do you have any more(in you)?
Tell us a story...


ps- stay off the drugs (joke)

luckyscars
December 23rd, 2011, 09:58 AM
yeah, i'd agree with kevin. i quite like the tearse style generally, and as far as that goes you're on the right lines. the problem is, i think, one can be 'too tearse', too reductive, to the point where it seems disjointed. this reads more like an outline sketch than a true 'story'. just work on the narrative, on the actions. you have the descriptions down all right but there's an absence of a link between the environment and the actions of the characters.

personally, i would cut or at least move the whole first paragraph. start straight in with the dialogue. if you're going to stick to the minimalistic, modern style then do away or at least minimize words like 'skinniest, 'greasiest'. i find less is more with this style of fiction, particularly in the short-story form. don't give it all up too soon. ambiguity can be your friend. good lucky.

Cuppy
December 23rd, 2011, 05:50 PM
Thanks for the input!

The chapter where he's asleep needs re-writing. I might just replace that with flashbacks that tie in with the plot later. By the way, the main character is based off me.

I've got quite a bit more in me. I hope to turns this into a small collection of short stories.

This isn't the first time someone has taken one of my stories to be some variant of modernism. I don't know what that is and I have no wish to write it. With the descriptions I really wanted the reader to think something like: "What the hell is wrong with Freak???"

There is everything wrong with Freak. He's ugly, selfish, cowardly, narcissistic, he lies, cheats and steals. He's scum. Although there's room to grow for him as a character.

On another note, this is just a sample of what I've written. There's a little bit more.

ElDavido
December 29th, 2011, 11:07 PM
I thought it was fairly interesting but perhaps a little loose to be overly enjoyable. The most apparent thing, in my opinion, that needs address is the sentence structure. The second sentence features a dependent clause, grand!, but the sentences after feature scattered commas that provide no function.


The entire bar, caked in a fine layer of grease

Structurally this doesn't make sense. Its as if the second part is acting as a subordinate bit but the rest of the sentence is lopped off.

i.e. 'The entire bar, caked in a fine layer of grease, stood beside from whatever.'

As it is, it is missing a word,

e.g. 'The entire bar was caked in a fine layer of grease'


The sentence after this one does(The musicians...) not need the comma either, neither does the one after that (For the most...)

Stylistically it doesn't affect much but it does make it more readable since you don't scan backwards constantly to make sure you haven't missed sections.

I think you could discard all modernist labels, it isn't. It's fragmentary at times

In Chapter 2 (are these full chapters? The first can't be more than a page (~300 words)?) the speach formatting has some hiccups. If the word after the quotes is a speach word (e.g. said, replied, shouted, yelled, proclaimed) it is lower case and the full stop is a comma.

e.g. I wish I had gills , said Berry the shoe.

I wish I had gills . Berry said loudly.


That said it's funny in bits, alienating to the verge of perplexing and has anthropomorphised garments, and isn't that a sign of good work?

spixn
February 2nd, 2012, 03:38 AM
When I started reading this, I focused on what I thought were some serious sentence structure flaws. While there are grammatical issues, a lot of your structure "flaws" lend to your style. (Since other posters have addressed the really problematic stuff, I'll just comment on the story in general). This story is close to being on that fine "genius/insanity" line and makes for a style that is highly entertaining and unique, but I would suggest you work on the consistency so that it's more convincing that you wrote it this way on purpose. It seems you stuck the beginning of one story onto the beginning of another, and it doesn't really work (but I'm guessing you know that if you're already rewriting the second part). You might be interested in researching Absurdist fiction if you haven't already. Or perhaps William S. Burroughs, if your writing really is as drug-inspired as other posters seem to think ;)
Overall, in spite of the annoying character names and frequent nonsense, you have something here. I laughed out loud at "his girlfriend got laser eye surgery." Not exactly descriptive of his features, but in a roundabout way it gets the point across about his "party in the back" look.

Cuppy
February 3rd, 2012, 04:57 AM
Thanks for the feedback. Please keep in mind that this was written some time ago and that my I'm a bit better. I plan to start this story completely over and hope for the best.

I wouldn't call this anything like genius. Retarded bullshit, maybe. And the transition between the two chapters has always bothered me. I'd never considered researching aburdist fiction. I didn't even know it existed.

I'll be changing most of the names of the characters due to recycling issues (I transferred whole characters) while writing a new piece. One that's actually sorta good...

Kevin
February 4th, 2012, 01:45 AM
Not retarded. Idiot savant, maybe. That's like me (without the savant).:smug: