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As promised, here is a picture of sunburned feet:
Yep. Not too shabby.
So I was debating on what I should write about on the blog for this entry, and I realized that I haven't posted any story ideas on the blog in a while. However, I haven't really written much recently, so I thought that I would share a story that I found while I was cleaning my room today.
This is circa 2007, and I don't feel bad sharing it here because I am confident that it will never be published anywhere else. Ever.
So without further ado, here is "A Writing Exercise from E210"--also titled, "How NOT to Write."
Sweat ran down Atilla's muscular body as he darted back and forth, eyes about to pop out of his head. He had never seen anything like this. He had fought for four years in the octagon, he was the master of the cage match, and he held three all-time records on American Gladiators. Atilla was the sort of guy who ate small children for breakfast and washed them down with a gallon of kitten blood. He could take anything that the world could throw and him, and he would throw it right back. Then he would beat the shit out of the world for being so stupid as to throw things at him.
However, the fact remained that this wasn't a wrestling match or a fight to the death. This was something entirely different.
It all started when Atilla was awoken by the sound of laughter. This startled him, as he normally awoke to the sound of "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor. He considered this to be his unofficial theme song and set his alarm clock to play it every day at three in the afternoon. This was when Atilla would normally stumble to his feet and wipe the strand of drool from his gargantuan lower lip.
So, needless to say, the sound of high pitched giggling was unexpected. Yet even more strange was what Atilla heard next.
"Wake up sleepy head," said a squeaky voice. The voice giggled. There was light, airy music beginning to play all around. The music was the clinky sort of rhythm that can be perfectly accompanied with a kazoo.
Atilla groaned.
"Ugly man," said the voice, "wake up!" Atilla felt something fuzzy prod him in the side. Giggles.
Atilla rolled over. He opened his eyes. The lids tried to cling together, a crusty residue trying to bind them. This sort of thing was normal for Atilla. There was normally a coating of sweat, grease, and booze that engulfed his body. Atilla's eyes slowly started to adjust to the light, which seemed much brighter than the gloom of his basement apartment. Then the picture began to focus.
"Good mowning ugly man," said the voice. It came from a little girl who was sitting at a tiny pink table covered with tiny tea dishes. She sipped from a tiny plastic cup and had long pigtails that were each tied with a bright pink bow. She was wearing a flower print dress and sitting on pastel green grass. She poured some more tea into her cup and looked at Atilla with a big smile.
Around her at the table were: a blue bear who slowly buttered his toast with a chuckle, a bunny who wrinkled her nose as she eyed Atilla over a plate of tea cakes, and a puppy who licked the inside of a tea cup as its tail wagged slowly.
It was like a nightmare. Atilla's muscles began to tense, the veins bulging under his shining, greasy skin. He bared his teeth like an attack dog as a long strand of bubbly spit fell to the ground. As Atilla turned, growling at each new terror he saw, he began to realize how very out of place he really was. He leaned forward like an ape, knuckles grazing the ground, and growled.
"Mr. Man is angwy."
Atilla kept crouched, glaring at each creature thoroughly before moving on to the next. He wanted to go to bed, but knew that it would be impossible in a place like this. He considered how long it would take to beat the crap out of each creature and rip each daisy out of the ground, throw each toadstool into a ditch, and drain the magical river that trickled behind the tea party. He was not going to b able to create a state of destruction in which he could sleep for a long while.
However, seeing no other alternative, he lifted his foot to move forward and attack. He brought the foot down, crushing a daisy with a tiny *quilp!* He lifted the tiny bear off of the toadstool that he was sitting on and was just about to tear his head from his body in a really violent way when he heard a pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter behind him. He dropped the bear, who giggled and began to run around in circles. Atilla turned.
"Just what I need," he said, "goddamn ponies."
There were about nine of them who pranced up over the hill. Their brightly colored manes blew in the wind, and tiny little sparklies hovered in the air in their wake.
Atilla charged the ponies, grunting as he ran, crushing daisies, dandelions, leprechauns and fairies beneath his feet. He made contact with the first pony: a strong right hook to the pony's jaw. There was a cracking sound and the pony fell to the ground.
There was silence for a moment.
Then the ground began to rumble and the fallen pony shot out a terrible bright light. The sounds of kittens purring, children giggling, and kazoos blaring filled Atilla's ears. Light shot all around him in a terrible rainbow and he yelled as loud as he could to drown out the noise.
When the light was gone, a rainbow covered the sky and where the fallen pony had lay there now stood four ponies. They were larger, cuter, and had more sparklies. Atilla punched another, the light returned, and four more ponies appeared where the first had stood.
Atilla began to run.
He barreled across the grass past the magical river, punching ponies left and right. For each one he punched, four would appear and the rainbow in the sky would expand. The rainbow began to burn itself into Atilla's mind, visible even when he closed his eyes.
Atilla bolted up over a ridge, ponies dashing past him, around him, over him. Before him was a giant field filled with fairies and gnomes. In the center of the fired, next to a tiny grove of daffodils, was a door. Above the door was a sign. It's pink lettering was surrounded by tiny sparkles, that shone in the sunlight.
BACK TO THE REAL WORLD, it read.
Atilla threw himself against the door. It didn't budge. He tried turning the knob. Nothing.
"Looking for this?" It was the little girl from the tea party. She held a long red ribbon in her hand. Dangling from the ribbon was a large gold key.
Oh dear.
What a shame that I never came up with an ending. It really could have brought together all that intense character development that I had going. Crying shame.
Sorry to have put you all through that.
love always,
-jim.
