You've Been Working On That Novel?

[SweetDaddyFreak 0]

I wrote this a couple months back. Its kind of long, but whatever I was in the zone. Also the Cliffnotes are available at www.therearenocliffnotesandthatsnotafunnyresponse.com/comeupwithsomethingoriginaltohumorus/Chapter One (The Only Chapter)The brisk wind of the night struck my face as I exited my car. I shut the door violently, for no particular reason, and proceeded to jingle around in my pocket for my cell phone. Maybe if the temperature was a little warmer I wouldn’t need the layers upon layers of clothing that was restricting my direct path to it. The winter night was slowly downing little flakes of snow on me as I continued my prolonged search. My wallet, loose coins, receipts. All of which had been in my pocket since I’d left for work that morning and stopped by the local grocery store to buy a muffin. It had been the start to my day for the past four months ever since I started my new job. Usually I would choose blueberry over the others, because blueberries, as fruits, are much healthier then the other selections. The winter air made me shiver in my clothes as I grabbed my cell phone and immediately hit the second speed dial. I heard the ever familiar voice of a electronic machine telling me I was over my limit for the month. **** it, I really didn’t need a cell phone anyway, my dad will call me back. I ran my hand through my brown hair, put my cell phone back in my pocket and proceed inward. As I approached the bank I had somehow convinced myself that a cell phone would shoot out radio waves that was just hurting my brain in someway. Another excuse I suppose, like the excuse that muffins are healthy, for God’s sake I pass by the fresh fruits everyday on my way to the register, but the coldness of the store numbs my brain enough to stop me from thinking about it in too much detail. I opened the door gently, a sharp contrast from only moments earlier when I treated my car door like an abused child. One step forward I reach the very end of the line. Three people deep is a long line at this point of the night, when usually I would simply go to the first available teller, greeting them with a smile on my face and a handshake. Being friendly to strangers gave me a sense of accomplishment, almost like I was promoting some weird, self-esteem concept. As I stare at the clock situated behind the desk, about 15 feet in front of me with three people and a teller blocking my direct path of vision, my mind began to wonder again. “A stopped clock is right twice a day," I said aloud. The customer in front of me, a short Hispanic lady in her mid-fifties turned around and eyed me in a awkward way. I smiled and she proceeded to snap her head back toward the front, seemly rattled by my remark. The bank was tiny, only two tellers who handled different business. When you walk in on your left is the teller that handles loans and collect interest. The one on the right, the line I was currently standing in, handled simple duties like cashing checks and depositing valuables. I was now second in line. My eyes went back to the dull clock as it appeared frozen in time for a moment before I saw the second hand begin to move. The clock was hung with tacky green paint covering the wall behind it. With all the money this bank had wasted on paint, it probably would have been smarter just to invest in a ATM machine. All part of logical thinking I suppose. It now was my turn to cash my bi-weekly paycheck that I had worked my *** off for to earn, and I did earn every single penny of it. There was no option of depositing any money at this point, I needed cash on me to afford my everyday necessities “Hi, welcome to City Bank" the teller told me. She was cute. A blonde in her early twenties, same age as myself. I am, and always will be, a sucker for blondes. My eyes darted to her nametag before I looked at her face. Amber. A boring, generic name. Thinking quickly I formulated a great idea to humor her, possibly start a bank-customer relationships. It was a long shot indeed. “Thanks for that warm welcome, too bad it doesn’t translate to the weather outside," I declared with a bright smile on my face followed with a chuckle. The cold, stone-faced look she proceeded to give me told me straight up she was not in the mood for joking at this night. I guess I was the only one laughing for the second time since I had entered the bank. There would be not conversation between us tonight. I reached into my brown, grubby leather wallet for my check. I thought to myself that it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t take a joke, Christ she worked behind a desk at a bank, how many worthless idiots do you encounter in a day doing that? Handing her my check she looked it over and asked for my driver’s license. I pulled out my ID and handed it over to her, feeling somewhat embarrassed that this cute, young girl would soon be gazing up my ugly, ****-eating grin on my license. It was only two years ago that I had convinced myself that trying to make my ID picture funny was a great idea. I gelled my hair sticking straight up, wore big glasses and bright orange shirt and to top it off, a bow-tie. Now everywhere I went I had to show people what my definition of “humor‿ was. She handed my Drivers license back and proceeded to continue with the transaction. I remember only last month when I was pulled over by a cop and had hand over my license and registration. I’ll never forget the words that came next from the man in blue, “Have you been drinking, Sir?" I was taken back at the moment, attempting to draw a sensible conclusion to this question when he added, “Because you must have been hammered when you took this picture." He laughed at his own joke while walking back towards his cruiser. A police officer, a man of the law, making a DUI joke. How ironic a moment it was. Amber handed me back six crisp Franklins and a five, which I immediately stuffed into my wallet. Wait, was that a glimpse of a smile on her face? Feeling both happy and dejected, I decided to give up. I turned away and headed for the door. “Mr. Wynn," Amber shouted. I turned quickly around, hoping for the best, or at least the second best, whatever that meant. I saw her holding two quarters. “You forgot these from you check," she stated in a matter-of-factly sort of way. “Better to not walk away while missing your money."What a *****.She had my hopes up for a second. Embarrassed I rushed back and collected my change and quickly headed out the door. Starting to analyze the quick quip she threw at me I came to my conclusion that she felt two quarters were important to be, that they meant something to me. This angered me, but not as much as the fact was, while obnoxious, the girl sitting behind the counter made a living spectacle out of my lowly check-cashing excursion. Whoa there Marcus, your starting to overanalyze yourself again. My conscious mind sometimes slipped in and out of my thoughts, usually to remind me of rational logic and understanding. The mind is a beautiful thing, a maze of interconnected nerve ending pushing thought, feelings and emotions through it. Unfortunately I had lost the map to my own personal maze several years ago and sometimes got stuck in the center deciding which way to go. I had reached my car, a sleek, dark blue BMW, which at some point was rather nice and if by nice you mean the air conditioning working then yes, it was nice as some point. I sacrificed comfort for looks as the car was a piece on the inside, but I kept that a well-regarded secret. Unlocking my car I climbed inside and removed my jacket, throwing it into the back on top of the 9mm handgun and a empty can of Red Bull, that I decided to keep in plain view that day. Sometimes you can’t argue with bad luck with the law when you make several avoidable mistakes per a day. I put my keys into the ignition and started my car up. The motor started to putter and I felt the cold blast of air against my face. Wow if only the AC actually produced cold air during the sweltering summer months I might not have been so upset with it. Pulling out the desolate parking lot I get to the single lane red light. The seatbelt suddenly snaps open and brushes my cheek as it returns to it initial resting spot. I lifted it up and clicked it back in. My music is turned up loud and I’ve got the Driver’s License grin on my face. Somehow playing music really loud is only cool for those in the car at the moment. Being passed my someone and hearing a line or two out of a song can get pretty ****ing annoying. Disregarding this fact, I will always believe that my car and tunes can pull off it off without looking like the quintessential attention whore. The light turns green and I slightly apply my foot to the peddle. Accelerating slow is supposed to save gas, so applying light pressure should conserve gasoline, meaning less money to pay. Seatbelts, music and gas, all three great reasons I should be riding a bicycle everywhere. If the chances of me getting laid wouldn‘t be diminished significantly, then it quite possibly would be a reality.I was headed home on half a gas tank and a CD too scratched up for me to care. Home to me was a apartment on the north side of town, a nice area where I could afford rent. My apartment was on the second floor where I housed two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a disco ball, $300 worth of clothes and $500 worth of video games. I lived in a bachelor pad all right. I pulled into my designated parking spot, the ones where you have to put a cheesy yellow sticker on the back of your car to park. The people in my community were so uptight about all cars showing these stickers. If a vehicle didn’t have it, them they must be criminals, murders and rapist. Somewhere along the line I planned on removing everyone’s wonderful yellow sticker, so I could then be witness to the second coming of the Apocalypse within my very own home. That was an idea for another day. I walked up the twenty-two stairs, yes twenty-two stairs and exactly twenty-two stairs. I counted them everyday. I did it ritualistic everyday before I put my key at the door. I opened it up to the smiling face of my one year old puppy, Somehow I made the mistake of thinking a dog was a great way to pick up girls. After seeing beautiful girls walking their beloved dogs all around the neighborhood, I thought what a brilliant idea it would be to get my own dog and join them. Somehow, to my bewilderment, I looked past the mere twenty minutes each day I would be walking my dog and actually had to care for the other fourteen hundred twenty minutes each day. And to my surprise, the girls didn’t even like my dog, they actually got upset that our dogs would growl at each other and cause mass hysteria every time they crossed paths. It was another spontaneous decision I had made without actually thinking it through. And no, girls aren’t attracted to dogs literally or figuratively.I started to take off my layers of clothing, throwing them every which way possible. This was a good reason why I didn’t have candles. Throwing clothes and open flames would only lead to me eventually setting something on fire running out of my apartment barely clothed into the vast winter wonderland. Another overanalyzes of the everyday household item I assume. Turning on the television I saw that my favorite weekly show had been pushed back for a special on mold. Yes, a special on mold. Now I’m not an idiot, I even had taken a class on mold in high school, but there is no explanation for why mold was special. Special was a sacred word which was now being abused by some crass, uninformed TV producer. The *******. Without thinking I threw my remote at the television screen. It was a slow motion sequence as I saw it leave my hand and majestically sail toward the glowing tube. It was not stopping until it…CRACK! The remote went an inch deep into the middle of my TV and the picture went black instantaneously. Through my peripheral vision, the puppy jumped three feet in the air. I saw the shards of glass fall toward my tile floor and I could do nothing but sit and watch how my anger toward a television show infuriated me enough to throw a solid projectile at it. Slowly replaying it in my head once more, I saw the remote crash into the screen. The only thing I could do was stare in disbelief and pick my jaw off the ground. I unplugged the cord from the back to prevent any electrical backlash and went toward my bathroom. Calming down I slowly closed the door to my bathroom and locked it. This can’t be right, It was only a TV show after all did I really have to expel such extreme measures? Silly of me, I learned my lesson. Anger should be focused elsewhere. Don’t wear you emotions on your sleeves I guess. Good for me I gained valuable insight. I moved my shower curtain and there sitting at the bottom of my shower was a green, slimy substance. Mold. There was mold in my shower. It was just not going to be my night, I thought as my search for flip-flops began.

[kidpkrJR 0]

Stewie: How you uh, how you comin' on that novel you're working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice litte story you're working on there? Your big novel you've been working on for 3 years? Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there? Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? (voice getting higher pitched) Yea, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends? At the end your main character is richer from the experience? Yeah? Yeah? (voice returns to normal) No, no, you deserve some time off. - 1st thing i thought of... I'm gonna read yours now though

[gkunit20 1]

Stewie: How you uh, how you comin' on that novel you're working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice litte story you're working on there? Your big novel you've been working on for 3 years? Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there? Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? (voice getting higher pitched) Yea, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends? At the end your main character is richer from the experience? Yeah? Yeah? (voice returns to normal) No, no, you deserve some time off. - 1st thing i thought of... I'm gonna read yours now though

Same here. I've actually been thinking about writing a novel, but I probably won't start until after finals.

[SweetDaddyFreak 0]

http://youtube.com/watch?v=SpVL0ngbzXsI hate to hijack my own thread....

[kidpkrJR 0]

http://youtube.com/watch?v=SpVL0ngbzXsI hate to hijack my own thread....

haha, why didn't i think to link that