Sunday, February 05, 2006

Wrote A Story

Been pretty sick for the last four days, sitting at home and watching movies. Night before last, all in a rush I wrote a short story.

I rarely read fiction. Haven't written any, or wanted to, for years. This just came pouring out. Adventure, humor, horror. Twelve pages in less than two hours. Complete. I read it over when it was done and it was full of rage and frustration. (Don't worry, Mac, it's not internalized).

The crux of the story was the conflict between people who deal professionally with violence and the people who hire them. Hence the frustration.

The citizens who looks right past you, looking for someone more like Stallone or Arnold.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Partner, you're the one screaming for help and I'm not going to apply for the job. I'm here to save your ass, not to kiss it.

The people who want you to do a job that they can't even imagine, but do it in a way that doesn't make them feely ooky. Define ooky. Oh, I don't know.

The people who watch the news broadcast and see the crook carted away and think it's over when it's really just beginning for the violator and the victim and the officer.

The people who think that it will be a cool adventure- a piece of dialogue from the story as I remember it:
"You wait here."
"No. I'm going with you."
"That was predictable. You're staying."
"You can't make me."
"You want me to go in there and kill twenty people and you don't think I can make you stay? What are you? An idiot? Are you staying or do I knock you the fuck out and tie you up?"

Sometimes it feels like I work for a different species, maybe a plant. The plant doesn't eat meat and it wants me to eat the cow to save the plants, but they get together in their little plant committees and try to write rules to make sure I eat the cow in a way that makes them comfortable- absorb it through the roots, maybe. That's not ooky. But there's no way to eat a cow that a plant won't find ooky. That's not an acceptable answer to the plant community.

Maybe if they removed our teeth, we'd grow meat-eating roots! That wouldn't be ooky at all! Yay plant life! Huzzah!

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Since it all turns to shit anyway, we'll just wait until the sheep shat all over us and then we'll say thank you, may I have another.

But it makes my day when I put the bling bling on the bad things and they give me eye dings, stare back turns to fear-sings then true tears hang when they realize dey is pathetic thangs what need good guard love, steel in the velvet glove what might turn the thug.