#1
still truckin with this thing...I'll leave links to priors below.

Section 1
Section 2
Section 3
Section 4


***
The wind is still cool, even though the temperature reads 76 degrees on the sign in front of the 3rd International Bank. Jeb is kindly switching tapes from his deck, while I pray it won’t be another verbal howling from a book of his. It’s not, but the piercing of this new sound does an equally good job of making me squirm in my seat.

“Is this all you have in there?” I blurt, while starting to hesitantly go through some of the tapes he has sloppily stored in his console.

“Jesus man, doesn’t anything please you? This is one of the best I have”

“Yeah, it’s just when Nancy and I were seeing each other, this was an album that-.”

“Fu.ck man, I thought you were over that chick. For Christ sakes, it’s been like two years.” Eight months to be exact. But Jeb was right, it was a good album by Sublime, one I had borrowed from him and recorded for myself. But the memories are just simply too strong. I remember gazing into her intense blue eyes that were so magically vivid, it still gives me goosebumps. And all the while, this album would be tip-toeing in the background, busy playing the soundtrack of our lives. A memory I have rarely since been in a hurry to re-visit.

“Alright then, no sound today,” Jeb says, thankfully interrupting my unwelcomed flashback. “Oh, and that reminds me, Blaine called me today,” he says, while lighting up one of his trusty Marlboro’s.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, the nerve. Anyway, he claims that he was the one who shot you last night, but swears it was an accident.”

“What the fu.ck? No way.”

“Yep, that son of a bitch. If I get my hands on him, you won’t need to worry, because he’ll be fu.cking sorry.”

“Wow, what else did he say?”

“Nothing really; I told him that it would be a good idea for him to watch his back, then hung the fu.ck up on him.”

‘Well, that didn’t help anything,’ is what I feel like saying to him, but realize that me saying that wasn’t going to help anything either. I actually don’t really have a problem believing what Blaine said, assuming that everything Jeb is saying is legit. Blaine and I have co-managed at the same electronics store for a couple of years now. We sell TV’s, radios, car stereos, in-home appliances, anything you can think of that you might have to plug in, we probably have it. If not, we can always special order it. Anyway, Blaine, on the days that I work with him, which are Tuesday’s, Wednesdays, and Fridays, kindly gives me a ride within a mile of my apartment on the frontage road. He never takes me all the way there because there’s no way to get on the interstate by my house, and sees no use in wasting two miles of his life on the days that he works for me. So I really can’t complain, even though the part of town that I have to walk through isn’t the prettiest place at night. If I walk from work, it’s a four mile trudge, though through a little more upscale part of town. But I still take my chances on the shorter, less scenic path.

“How’s your wound holding up anyway?” Jeb says, while starring at my side a little too long, considering he’s still the one driving the vehicle.

“Holy shit!” I yell, while simultaneously reaching for the steering wheel. Jeb reacts with the quickness of a sloth, and narrowly misses a yellow moving van, with it’s horn a blazing, in the on coming traffic.

“fu.cker, watch where you are going” Jeb screams, as he again stares recklessly, this time over his left shoulder, in the direction of the moving van, which has yet to relinquish it’s horn. Luckily there is a passenger on-board Jeb’s circus ride, as I reach over and save us from another potential collision.

“Oh, thanks man. I guess I should be a little more careful.”

“You think? I don’t think that this car would have necessarily won that match-up,” I say, half chuckling, figuring starting a conflict or argument wouldn’t do any good. Besides, Jeb is good at arguments, because he just changes the subject whenever he feels threatened, like he does here, sensing a possible conflict.

“You know I got fired yesterday, right?”

“Uhh, no I didn’t,” I answer, immediately speculating on the amount of truth that is dumping out of his mouth.

“Yeah, they caught me testing one of my ideas on a pet rat. Damn it, I swore I locked the door behind me,” he says, as he begins to violently pound his right fist against the top of the steering wheel, causing the car once again to jerk out of control, this time toward the shoulder of the road, where the rumble strips announce their presence. Only after we kick up some gravel on the edge of the pavement are we able to re-gain control of the machine that now seems destined to end our lives.

“Dude, you really are going to have to get it together man,” I say, while finally getting the courage up to take my hands off the wheel once again. I knew instantly what Jeb was talking about with that whole rat incident. We had discussed one of his ideas (actually, his only one I can recall) a couple of months ago. Jeb worked at a crop engineering plant, where they are semi-famous many years back for successfully growing many fruits that didn’t contain any imbedded seeds. Jeb took engineering in college and actually was up near the top of his class, as hard as that is to believe. And his idea was one he was really proud of. Actually, it was more of a solution. A solution to end over population by applying the same process they had used on the fruits, and incorporate it on female humans, to rid them of the necessary seeds to reproduce. Well, of course, I told him what I thought about the brilliant solution, but that advice apparently went as far as it does on the stories he writes.

“So I was thinking last night, before I called that hooker over, that maybe I should just write a story about it. You know, kind of like a sci-fi, with cross breeding and mutants. Maybe get it published or at least get it on tape.” I shutter at the fact that I might have to comment on what he just said. So I give him a taste of his own medicine, and change the subject slightly.

“Well, shit man, it’s a shame you had to lose your job. Have any ideas on what your next move is?”

“Short term or long term? Because long term, I haven’t a clue. But short term, with a little of your help, I should be able to get by.”

“Help? What kind of help are you talking about?”

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t have to do much. Just stand kind of by the door, and point this towards the customers.” Just then, he reaches under his seat and hands me a shinny black pistol that eerily glistens in the sunlight. It’s texture is not of metal, but plastic, and I realize Jeb has a lot of explaining to do if he doesn’t want me to unload it on him.

“What the fu.ck, man? Is this fake?”

“Yeah, it’s my nephew’s water gun he left at my house a few weeks ago. But they aren’t going to know that. It looks real enough, though-.”

“Who is ‘they’? Where, I mean, what the fu.ck are you doing!?!”

“God damn it. What is wrong with you? Where going to rob this 7-Eleven up here on 7th and Murray.”
Last edited by streetcarp19 at Jan 13, 2007,
#2
well, I really wasn't expecting anyone to read all of this...any opinions would help though.
#3
Theres awkward phrasing in the goose-pimples line and the last line of the first stanza. It seems to pick up as it goes along. I won't crit it because I don't have the time, and frankly, you're not pretty enough :P

also:
back then. A memory I have rarely since been in a hurry to re-visit.

that line is awkward. and if you're writing a story/prose, you should probably use full sentences, so how bout a colon?

thats all i got, sorry it wasn't much.

i didn't read all the other chapters, only one or two, so my content advice won't be good. it did flow well and keep me interested though, i didn't see anything that particularly made me stop and think, or anything that really stood out, like a way of saying something that exhibited a whole new side to it. sorry to be so vague.
#4
Thanks man for giving it a look through. I will certainly look into cleaning up the phrasing on those two lines....
#6
i need to go back and read the others before i can comment properly, but i noticed quite a few grammatical errors in perusing this that i could fix for you if you'd like. seems good though, shame there aren't more responses, bbl,

holla
#7
I like it. That isn't much, but it's pretty good. Some of it was phrased awkwardly, but that's been mentioned enough. I like the thought you put into the characters, they're very relatable and could very easily be real people. You did a great job showing the audience things instead of showing them. I don't know if you'll understand what I mean, but you did a really awesome job at keeping the narration like that. Also, the imagery isn't bad. Great job, man.
Cause I love feelin' dirty
And I love feelin' cheap
And I love it when you hurt me
So drive those staples deep
#8
Thanks guys, and nerk I still need to get to one of yours, I forgot to the other day.
#9
I think your doing a good job on your characters, I can really tell what kind of people they are. I look forward to the next one.