First 1000- wait. 1009 Words.
I’m never going to get this done without pressure.
Really.
So- Here’re the first 1009 words.
(Takes 2 seconds to blow “Whee whee whee pig” off TV screen)
If you like it, let me know. Suggestions are welcome.
I’m aiming for 4k to 5k words.
Holla back.
Untitled
When Charlie opened his eyes for the first time, this time, the first thing he saw was the pair of headlights. As he went airborne, hit the asphalt and rolled to the shoulder he thought, Not again. This was followed by, 400 small block. Chevy, and as he stood and saw the car pull to a stop, Why can’t I ever just show up where I have to be? Why they gotta make me walk?
But he knew why he had to walk. The damned got no limo service. At least this time he’d manifested on a rural route. Two jobs back he’d popped onto I-40 during winter rush hour, and two semis and a Regal had taken him down before he’d been able to get upright again. Chasing down each driver had taken more than two days despite the fact that he had their scent.
As the door on the Chevy creaked open Charlie weighed his options. He was supposed to head to the cornfield. The problem was that under the Urban Legends Must Be Upheld Directive (his name for it, not theirs) he was now supposed to eliminate the occupants of the car that hit him. The others like him that he’d run into over the past few years told him these were the rules. He suspected that was bullshit, because even if they hadn’t said so he’d have done it anyway. Getting hit at high speed by a ton or more of motor vehicle hurt.
All he wanted was a smoke.
As the driver of the Chevy approached Charlie reattached his arm, adjusted his oilskin duster (The damned did get nice threads) and walked to meet him. He waited for his appearance to register with the man so the dumbass would start running and start The Game.
The clown wasn’t running.
At forty feet Charlie realized why. It wasn’t like he could run in that getup anyway. Goddamned demon clowns. “What the fuck, Hank? You ran over me on purpose. Wait. How do you have a car?”
Hank pulled a pack of menthols out of his oversized pants and said, “Took it. Been doing this gig for twenty years, man. When you gonna learn to take the car after it hits you, moron?” He tossed Charlie a cigarette and nodded toward the Chevy. “Need a ride?”
Charlie caught the smoke, lit it, and said, “Dude. You hit me. What the fuck?”
Hank started toward the car alone. “Eh. Like it matters. You got back up. Coming?”
Charlie started after him, checking his pockets and coat lining to make sure he still had his tools. “Yeah, I’m coming. What are you working on? I’ve got some loser who did an accidental summoning. You doing kids tonight?”
Hank ground his cigarette butt into the gravel shoulder with the toe of his gigantic shoe. “Better. An adult. Some idiot found a painting in an attic and burned it again. Tell you what, if folks ever catch onto this shit we’ll be out of a job.” As they opened the doors to get into the car Charlie stopped for a moment.
“Wait. What’d you do to the folks with this car?”
Hank grinned as he turned the key and said, “What’s left is in the trunk. Props, you know?”
Charlie pressed his head into the window glass as they drove into the night and wondered how the fuck he’d gotten himself here.
***
When the shit had gone down Charlie had remembered that old saying, he thought it was Ben Franklin or someone, For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The problem was the reaction had been neither equal nor opposite.
His Damnation had started with a girl.
Ain’t it always the way?
Charlie had gotten off his shift at Lube-O-Rama, the only place he’d been able to find work after vocational school since all the real garages had dudes burrowed into their jobs so long it would take a crowbar to get rid of them. Payday meant cashing his check and watching the dough spill inside of three days, four if he ate at home with his mom. He hit the bank and steered the patched and primered Camaro into town, and just like every other Friday afternoon it steered itself to The Honey Pot.
He moved the cash from the little white envelope into his nylon mesh wallet and headed inside. After his eyes adjusted to the dark and strobe he saw the new girl onstage. His first thought was that her rack was too small for this job, but as he watched her work the pole his second thought was, Holy shit. He thought she must have heard him, he must have said it aloud, because she spun and gave him a smile that tightened his work pants.
When the shit had gone down Charlie remembered that smile and wished he’d just headed to the diner.
***
Charlie blinked the hypnotism of the road reflectors away and stabbed his finger at the radio to make it quit playing, “I’m a Loser.” Hank looked at him and said, “Hands off the dash, man.”
Charlie rolled his eye. “It’s not even your car.” Fucking clowns. He’d never had an issue with clowns before this mess started, but he had a deep understanding now of why so many people thought they sucked. They did suck. Oh the human ones were just fine he figured. In his line of work, though, he realized that people weren’t really afraid of those. He figured some folks just knew deep down they might meet one like Hank somewhere along the line, one that wasn’t some shmoe with a house and three kids, and the circus and such just brought all that shit to the surface.
“Hey, Hank. What’d you do before this? You have kids or anything?”
Hank glared at him and lit another cigarette. “I offered you a ride. I didn’t offer you conversation. I sure as hell hope you don’t chat up your jobs like this.”
Fucking clowns.
14 Responses to “First 1000- wait. 1009 Words.”
Are You Gonna Eat That? by Julie Summerell is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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That was excellent. You keep this up, and I might have to hit you up for a script idea
Oh hell no.
And thank you.
First, I fucking hate the whee whee whee pig. Just needed to get that off my chest.
Second, I like this. I’d make edits to it, sure, but the premise is excellent and I like the voice a lot.
Ok, please to offer your edits. This is what I need.
I like criticism other than the “YOU SUCK” variety.
That pig has to die. Rich wants the gecko to take him out.
I should probably elaborate a little further in terms of what I liked about it. Just saying it’s excellent isn’t enough, I think. I like that it jumps from one thing to another like a car crash. You really have to put yourself into the main character’s mindset, which works really well in this piece. I love that it’s got a fragmented sense of placement, and it makes you wonder what else is really going on behind the scenes. You’ve got an excellent grasp of the noir, and it’d be a crime against humanity if you didn’t nurture the baby into adulthood! Keep up the good work, word woman!
MOAR.
And I love the Whee Whee Whee Pig.
– c.
I think you’re on to a good thing here. Depending on where you’re taking it, I can see 5000 words easy.
And I hate clowns, too.
I did quite enjoy reading it. The 1000 words went by too fast. But, to be critical in a constructive way (Feel free to disregard any and/or all of this.)
The third paragraph sounds a bit technical compared to the ones around it. It sounds like the narrative voice changes just a bit there.
The clown wasn’t running, not like he could run in (hilarious description of clown outfit). Come to think of it, clowns tend to do some rather acrobatic things in their getups. Maybe the size 38 quadruple F’s would be the only thing slowing him down? Not that Charlie would know that, it would just look awkward to him. Anyway, as it is I say the joke unrolls too slowly.
Where are Charlie and Hank from, originally? Charlie sounds like a generic teen comedy hero, and Hank, well, like a crusty construction worker, or Joe Pesci. Is that right? Can you give us more clues without telling us where they’re from?
He refers to both his assignment and to the humans as “jobs.” This is a little confusing. What’s the relationship between what they do and to whom they do it?
How do you drive with those things on your feet, Hank?
Ben Franklin could’ve also said “quid pro quo” which is latin for “tit for tat,” right?
Also, on the psychology of fear of clowns, isn’t the demon clown very similar to the idea of the “persistence of the mask” where the image or mask is the total reality with no real face behind it? Think of Spiderman vs Venom. Spiderman takes off his mask and becomes Peter, Venom is the mask by itself. Or Patrick Bateman, whose face IS the mask. Of course, in every instance when we encounter a mask, there is the possibility that no face lies behind it, that the soulless image is the totality. Like the invisible man unwrapping himself, isn’t that the basis for fear of clowns, androids, mannequins, and other corruptions and parodies of the human face? Isn’t it that much scarier if the mask is all that there is?
Hope this stuff helps.
Sweet — here’s what it does:
1. Drops you right into the middle of something interesting
2. Introduces one character you might actually care about and another character you just want to know more about
3. Makes you wanna KEEP FUCKING READING.
So, yeah, I expect words 1010 through, say 2019 by, oh, I dunno, NOW?
Dan
First off, solid and engaging premise. Second off, I love the gritty, semi-narrated tone. You take the idea of “drop the reader into the action” and do it. Nice.
You want editing…
Keep an eye on subject-action construction of your sentences. Perhaps it’s stylistic, if so, keep it. Take “As the driver of the Chevy approached Charlie reattached his arm, adjusted his oilskin duster (The damned did get nice threads) and walked to meet him.” Often, I think I try to “hide” the impactual part of a sentence in the back end, like I’m trying to shock the reader. Maybe this is similar, but how does this read to you? “Charlie reattached his arm, adjusted his oilskin duster (The damned did get nice threads) and walked to meet the approaching driver of the Chevy.”
I have to force myself to start with the primary actor, at times.
Also, I love interjection, too, especially with a tone like this. It’s a needy beast and it will pop up all over your work. Watch the bastard and keep him in check.
I totally want to read the rest.
K
I like it a lot. The only thing that kept pulling me out of the story was Hank’s name (it is probably just me). I keep waiting for Hank to start trying to sell me propane. I do want the story to continue however. It is a really interesting premise. Good work. Sorry I don’t have anything bad to say about it.
Here’s what I think. I think you get a 1,000 words into something and maybe you get a little doubty. Some of the, “hmmmm, is this right?” I mean, you get this idea and you start working it out with characters and voices and then maybe you’re on a roll and then when you look up you think, “aw, crap. now i’m stuck.” But of course you’re not. This is great stuff. The tone and the characters and the action. The ideas are all here. The hinting in of the backstory. The quick creation of the universe. This is gold, Jerry. Gold. What you need is maybe some folks to say that yeah, this is good and worth going on. Hell, yeah, it is. these characters will carry this, I think. The story is there. You’re well on the way. Get to it. Hurry. Before the power goes out.
Thank you everyone! When the kids let me think in depth I’ll be back to discuss.
Lots of good stuff here.
Whoa. you let awesome stuff like this sit for a YEAR? Get the fuck to work… no excuses, I want Charlie ripping the lungs out of some ghost hunters who have their headless urban legend buddy trapped on film PRONTO (or whatever you had planned)