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NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge #2 - "An Unlikely Pair"

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beelzebozo

Jealous Bastard
hey guys. back for number two? you brave souls. as before, feel free to interpret the theme as you like, and i wish everyone the best of luck. and this time--i promise--no moved deadlines.

if you have any problems/questions, feel free to post them here in the thread and either i, or any of your fellow creative writers, will be happy to try and answer them.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Theme - "An Unlikely Pair"

Word Limit -1,000

All submissions that will be counted in the voting process should be in by Monday 3/10/2008 by 11:59 PM PST.

The voting will then begin on Tuesday 3/11/2008 at 12:00 am PST and go until Thursday 3/13/2008 11:59 pm PDT


Basic things to remember:

1) There are many ways to interpret the theme for this assignment, we are all writers or wanna-be writers, so keep that in mind when writing and critiquing others' works.

2) Spelling and Grammatical errors can be used to great effect when the story, characters, and setting demand it. However, proofreading and spell-checking your writing will probably result in a more positive attitude towards it when people are voting.

3) All submissions must be written during the time that the thread began until the due date. We don't want a snippet of your doctoral thesis from 1996 being used here.

4) Only one entry per poster. You can submit and then edit, if you'd like, but finalizing before submitting is highly encouraged.

5) Any writing style is welcome, but remember that most people are probably going to vote for the well written short story over an elementary acrostic poem.

6) There is a handy word count checker at www.wordcounttool.com Nobody wants to be a word count nazi, but please keep it under 1000 words.

7) Thousands of people read GAF, so if you don't want some masterpiece of yours to be stolen and seen in Hollywood a year from now, don't post it on here.


Voting Guidelines:

-Anyone can vote, even those that do not submit a piece during the thread.
-Three votes per voter. Please denote in your voting your 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place votes.
-First place votes count as 3, Second Place votes count as 2, and Third Place as 1 point.
-When voting period ends, votes will be tallied and the winner will get a collective pat on the back and will be in charge of picking a new topic to write about and pick the word length.
-Please read all submissions before voting, it is only fair to those who put in the effort.

NOTE TO THE WINNER:

-Generally, people have been comfortable with a 1000 word limit, but you get to choose to lower or raise the limit in the topic of your choice.

-When you start the new thread, please follow the naming scheme, NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge ## - "your topic here", then copy and paste this thread, changing the theme, due date, voting date, word count, and add the previous theme to the list at the bottom.

here are links to the individual stories. thanks to rumpledforeskin for the hard work.

• RumpledForeskin - An Unlikely Pair
• bjork - untitled
• RevenantKioku - An Unlikely Pair
• Aaron - Dragon Pair
• Speschal K - Wrong Man
• tyguy20204 - An Old Man Helps a Young Boy
• batbeg - Moments
• beelzebozo - Displacement
• Penguin - An Unlikely Pair: The Widow and the Widower
• Great Rumbler - John and Robot John
• Gaborn - Eyes I Never Thought I'd See Again
• nitewulf - Engineers Don't Dream
• StageOn - Mismatched
• VistraNorrez - Anytime, Bill
• Oldschoolgamer - Ballet Of A Homeless Person Reformed
• Cyan - Low Pair
• klix108 - smoke
• disappeared - Where we can’t go but sometimes want to.
• USD - Holes and the l Pieces that Fill Them
• BrodiemanTTR - An Unlikely Love
• Mike Works - The Public Execution
• Barrage - Of Hearts And Hares
• Fistfulofmetal - The Unlikely Pair
• Mato - 234
• Scribble - Like Cat and Dog
• DumbNameD - "Hully Gee, Harry"
• ronito - Untitled (writing exercise 1)
• ICallItFutile - Untitled
• Iceman - "Lapse at Daytona"
• Azih - "Treasure"
 

Cyan

Banned
Cool theme. This one I'll have to let percolate for a while, though--I've got too much other stuff to work on for the next few days. Unless inspiration strikes, of course.
 

Penguin

Member
Cyan said:
Cool theme. This one I'll have to let percolate for a while, though--I've got too much other stuff to work on for the next few days. Unless inspiration strikes, of course.
Well if you are in.
I got to get my writing brain in gears.
It's been a while. :D
 
An Unlikely Pair
(966 words)

------

Through thick and thin he’s always been there. It’s sometimes feel like I was born with a best friend that has never let me down. I’ll say one thing, I’m not sure how we met, I can’t even remember that far back. My earliest memory, he was there.

He always stood up for me every time that egor of a bully started something with me all through the fifth grade. That elementary career would have been pure hell had it not been for my best friend. He always managed to scare away egor. It was like david and goliath when those two went at it. Me, just a lowly peasant watching an epic battle. They got into it real bad the last day of fifth grade, egor eventually got transferred to another school. I always believed he got sent to jail. My absurd fantasies, hah. My friend went away for a year too, I missed him that entire time, I think his parents home-schooled him, I never did talk to him that whole year.

Sixth grade felt like a blur, without my buddy there. Then came seventh grade, being the geeky kid I was shy, quiet, generally reserved. Him though, wow, I could never believe how smooth and charming he was. We were both geeky looking kids, but anytime a girl approached us, I thought for sure they were giving the dreamy eyes to my buddy, but somehow he knew, they were really digging me, and chivalrously always backed down and let me have a little of his limelight.

Through his kind words and reassurance he convinced me that Malena liked me. Me, of all people she liked. I always thought he paid her off to go out with me for the entire seventh grade. Looking back, I think how ridiculous that thought was. Me and her eventually broke up in eight grade because she didn’t like my friend. After college we ran into each other, fell in love again, and got married a few years later. She always seemed a little jealous of how close me and him were though. I’d hear murmurs under her breath all the time. He was a single guy, always bagging chicks at clubs, supermarkets, even on the bus! He was one smooth talker, that’s probably why Malena didn’t want me and him hanging out so much. What’s a married guy got to do hanging around with a “player”? That’s what she always called him. I’ve never once even thought about lying down with another woman besides her. Malena has been the only woman I’ve loved. Still, she told me it was my best friend or her, and I really did love her. So I begrudgingly agreed to keep away from him for a while.

Boy was he pissed when I told him we couldn’t hang out so much, but he understood. I still keep in touch with him every now and then. Especially when the pressure of work, marriage, and life in general has me feeling like a geeky fifth grader being taunted by that egor.

People all through high school would give us weird looks as we walked down the halls of the school talking about movies, games, all the crap kids talk about that don’t really matter. My guess, everyone thought we were a couple of homos of something, I don’t know. That never bothered us though.

College was so crazy for me, classes, homework, studying, and presentations. So many things to do and so little time. Him, he always got shit done, how? I have no idea, because he was always pestering me to go hand out, have some drinks, anything. That guy was a genius, we finished our degrees at the same time, same qualifications everything, only difference is that he breezed through it, and I busted my ass.

It’s been almost a year since I talked to him, but he showed up at my house at three in the morning. I usually ditch work and hang out with him while Malena is at her job. She had a big meeting with a new client early tomorrow morning, so I told him to come back in the morning. “I’ll be quiet, I swear, I’m just bored and I wanna catch up man, I won’t make any noise” he said.

I pour a couple of glasses of Johnny Walker. I always save the Blue Label for special occasions. Seeing this guy, well that’s as special as it gets. A few glasses pass by, we’re shooting the shit, as much as you can while whispering and being drunk, when I hear “Jesus, I though we talked about this?” Malena pleads. I look back to see her standing at the bedroom doorway.

Shit! it’s six in the morning already, I was supposed to get him out of here before then, she absolutely hates it when he’s here.

“I told you I couldn’t deal with this anymore.” she’s walking towards me now “Jesus Christ baby, I can’t deal with this anymore.” She’s sobbing, and shaking a little.

“Deal with what? You’ve slept all night long without being bothered, we even kept to our indoor voices!” I joke, trying to calm her down a bit. Why does she get upset when we hang out?

“There’s nobody there sweetheart!” she’s pointing at the glass of whisky overflowing and dripping on the carpet. What the hell? He’s being throwing back those glasses faster than I can pour them.

“We need to get you some help sweetheart. I though I could keep up with this, but I just can’t!” She tells me, obviously upset.

Help, what the hell do I need help for?

He’s such an asshole, he’s always playing tricks on me, he must have heard her coming out and snuck out.

----


Feel free to critique the hell out of it. =)
 

A Human Becoming

More than a Member
I was really sad I couldn't participate in the last thread. Pleassssssssse don't change the deadline, I really want to give this a shot.
 

Aaron

Member
Quick suggestion. Use something other than the subject as the title of your story. Because we'll get a dozen identically titled stories again, and that makes them a little hard to tell apart and organize in one's mind at the time of voting.
 

beelzebozo

Jealous Bastard
i won't do it this week because i've already made the initial post, and don't plan on changing anything in case anyone who's already read it and sworn off being influenced by others' work, but next week's winner may think about adding aaron's suggestion to the contest rules. coming up with your own title serves the dual purpose of further stimulating your creative side, and also helping us easily identify whose is whose. i think those of you who haven't experimented much with titles may also see that what you name a story can have a huge impact on how the story is received or interpreted, as well.

nice idea, aaron
 

Cyan

Banned
Aaron said:
Quick suggestion. Use something other than the subject as the title of your story. Because we'll get a dozen identically titled stories again, and that makes them a little hard to tell apart and organize in one's mind at the time of voting.
Yes, totally agreed. Different title=more memorable=probably more likely to get votes.

Note that the first and second place stories last week both had different titles...

Oh hey, I just thought of something to write about... sweet!
 

JCX

Member
dang, I planned on voting for the last one tomorow. I'll try to write something for this theme.
 
Lots of different ways to go with this topic. I don't think I'm going to do an erotic story this time though.

bjork said:
She unzips her pants
Why are there testicles there?
An unlikely pair
:lol aztrex would be way into this.

You're my new favorite poster.
 

batbeg

Member
Damn you RumpledForeskin, that was going to be the basic premise of my story! :lol Asshole!

I felt like it was very predictable (possibly because I was thinking of the same thing?) but it worked well enough. Nothing particularly struck me as incredible about it, it felt too wooden in the storytelling aspects maybe. Like, all the elements of the plot were there, all the little details, but nothing stuck out, you know? Also, maybe reading through it a couple times could help as there's a small handful of grammatical mistakes in there.

Impressive considering how quickly you got it out there though.

Now I need to think of a new interpretation...
 

Iceman

Member
batbeg said:
Re: RumpledForeskin's
I felt like it was very predictable (possibly because I was thinking of the same thing?)

Surprised me. Didn't expect it at all. Good version though.

Possible titles:
1) David
2) Johnny Walker
3) Marlena's Woe

Hey, was this maybe a story you cooked up for the first challenge? Things Unseen?
 

batbeg

Member
Iceman said:
Surprised me. Didn't expect it at all.

Well, as I said, I had pretty much the exact same idea, so maybe I was picking up cues that I expected for my own story :lol And also the other guy seemed way too nice and big-brother-y, and, I don't know... I just felt that by the fifth paragraph I knew what it was going to be.

Good story though.
 

Cyan

Banned
Finished mine (I got enthusiastic again), but can't post it yet. Too long. Gotta cut about 70 words, which won't be easy. I'll have to come back and do it tomorrow.

batbeg said:
Well, as I said, I had pretty much the exact same idea, so maybe I was picking up cues that I expected for my own story :lol And also the other guy seemed way too nice and big-brother-y, and, I don't know... I just felt that by the fifth paragraph I knew what it was going to be.
Nah, I felt like I knew the ending by the fifth paragraph too, and I hadn't thought about writing that sort of thing at all. It just felt too
Beautiful Mind
-y.

I think it might have been more interesting if it had either been obvious from the start, so that it was the focus of the story, or extremely subtle at the end, so that rather than it being a surprise ending, we had to figure it out ourselves from the whole of the text.

Also, I'd recommend a grammar/spell-check before posting. I mean re-reading it yourself, not the Word functions. ;)

All that aside, still a good story.
 
Cyan said:
Finished mine (I got enthusiastic again), but can't post it yet. Too long. Gotta cut about 70 words, which won't be easy. I'll have to come back and do it tomorrow.
I would actually recommend to everyone that they wait a day after writing their stories to post them. That extra time will yield a lot of extra perspective.

When I wrote my story last time, I finished it at around 3am and thought it was the best thing ever and that I was certain to win. When I looked at it the next day, I realized it wasn't nearly as good as it could have been. :lol
 

batbeg

Member
disappeared said:
I have a short story I could contribute, but it's 1080 words. :(

3) All submissions must be written during the time that the thread began until the due date. We don't want a snippet of your doctoral thesis from 1996 being used here.

Just as well then :)
 

Cyan

Banned
Green Shinobi said:
I would actually recommend to everyone that they wait a day after writing their stories to post them. That extra time will yield a lot of extra perspective.

When I wrote my story last time, I finished it at around 3am and thought it was the best thing ever and that I was certain to win. When I looked at it the next day, I realized it wasn't nearly as good as it could have been. :lol
Yeah, this is a good idea. I have that experience all the time. :lol
 

AlteredBeast

Fork 'em, Sparky!
Great topic choice. I can already see the possibilities of what people will write about this time around. :)

I will probably get cracking on mine tomorrow. I have a few ideas in my head, hope that something gets sparked further when before I begin my writing. :)

Once again, especially to all the new participants, sorry for the moved deadlines and etc. of last challenge. I was still trying to iron out details and et al with everybody and as nobody was really speaking up besides those of us that got a little anxious, we ended up probably screwing over a half dozen people or so that wanted to participate. Now that we know what every one is comfortable with, you can expect to see deadlines being set in stone. :)

I for one do not agree with Aaron's title suggestion. It might just be me, but I like the idea of everyone writing around the same title and their take on that title, not just that idea. If none of you mind, I am going to stick to the thread title's title for my submission and I hope it won't count against me when people go to vote. It isn't that I lack focus or desire to come up with a name of my own, it is just that I want to surround my work with everything that is represented by the topic. :)

Good luck to everyone! Here is to another great and successful thread!
 

Cyan

Banned
AlteredBeast said:
I for one do not agree with Aaron's title suggestion. It might just be me, but I like the idea of everyone writing around the same title and their take on that title, not just that idea. If none of you mind, I am going to stick to the thread title's title for my submission and I hope it won't count against me when people go to vote. It isn't that I lack focus or desire to come up with a name of my own, it is just that I want to surround my work with everything that is represented by the topic. :)
It's not that it will count against you so much as your entry won't stand out. In a field of 20+ entrants that could be problematic.

Personally, as in the last thread, mine will be sort of a variation on the title.
 

batbeg

Member
bjork said:
She has a nutsack
It is hairy and sticky
Boy I hate summer

There, better?

I like it. I guess it's sticky because it's summer and thus hot, which is why you hate it? Very deep, a unique look at the makeup of a person's identity - both the woman's and perhaps your own. Your own sexual fears and wants, your own relationship with the season of summer... I think you'll get one of my votes for sure.
 

RevenantKioku

PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS PEINS oh god i am drowning in them
An Unlikely Pair
Splish. Splash. Sploosh.

Susan could only wonder what in the hell she had gotten herself into this time.

Splish. Splash. Sploosh.

Sven gripped his camera tightly as he followed the luscious bottom of his inflexible comrade.

Splish. Splash. Splunch?

Susan didn't like the sound of that.

Splunch? Splunch. Splunch!

Sven simply shouted and then was suddenly silent. Susan sent her eyes around the surrounding area. Neither could see the other. Susan finally heard Sven's cries of pain. She retraced her steps only a tad and saw Sven sitting and silently sobbing in a hole.

She asked if he was okay and he grunted to confirm. His camera, on the other hand was not. Susan could see how it shattered against the large rock protruding from the muck. She reached down and pulled him up. Sven got a peek down her jacket and took a mental picture to make up for his camera. Fair trade, he thought.

Sven was noticeably irritated and noticeably more soaked and asked why they were here again. Susan started it all up again. All about her dreams and aspirations. Susan had seen Indiana Jones films too many times as a child. Sven sighed. He knew why they were here. Why was Susan always so literal?

Still, Susan played back the recording she had. It went on and on about prior explorations in this area. About the discoveries that were only documented in this nearly destroyed tape. The tape had made rounds as a barter item by the locals and eventually ended up on the desk of Susan's boss. For someone who seemed irritated five minutes prior about trekking through this muck, Susan sure got excited with the prospects of discovering something described on this tape.

Sven was there because, well, his father who is Susan's boss trusted no one else with photos. Right. That would be a believable answer had Sven actually known a damned thing about photography. Truth it Sven's father was getting on in age, wanted the family business to go on and his son was a bit of a... failure. A failure that had the hots for Susan, the best employee of said business. He knew Sven needed all the chances he could get to end up in Susan's pants and or life.

Susan hated her boss. But loved her job. She went on and on about the importance of what they were doing and if Susan's figure wasn't more interesting to Sven than her babble you could at least assume Sven was interested in something. Sven just wanted Susan to get back to walking so he could get back to looking. He tried his best to politely suggest they get back on with the search. Susan snapped out of it and agreed.

But walking again wasn't enough to silence Susan. She went on about the recording still. How the unknown man was excited about the flora and fauna that he had run into. Susan hoped to see it herself. But what she really wanted to know came from the last line of the tape. "And within this cave I found an unlikely pair of..." and it was cut off. She knew it was cliché to believe. A cut off tape that leads to an amazing secret? The only reason she was on this job was to confirm the aforementioned flora and fauna. But everyone who heard the tape knew Susan would dedicate most of the time following the mystery. She just had that itch that needed a scratching. So she pushed on.

Sven followed but started to complain. Yeah, that'll get her hot. Whatever suaveness Sven had was trying to fight the whiney little boy that he was becoming, but that whiney boy was winning this round. Sven's leg had almost had enough when Susan let out a cry of joy. The cave was a few meters ahead.

They both broke into a dash. The swampy muck ended and the support of some solid ground began to feel good to their bodies. Susan turned on her flashlight and pointed it towards the cave. As much as she wanted to dash in, she approached cautiously as to not potentially frighten her mark. Sven got as close to Susan as his confidence would allow and followed her inside.

They tiptoed through the terrifyingly cave for what felt like hours. Nothing of any interest could be seen. Nothing at all. Sven started to get noticeably irritated but Susan would not give up. On they went until suddenly Sven yelled out in pain. Susan looked around frantically looked for the source of Sven's outburst.

A small metal box sat on the floor. Susan's eyes lit up. Sven muttered something and bent down to get a better look at the box.

Finding nothing that seemed suspicious, Sven slowly opened the box. Susan gasped.

A dried purple fruit sat in the box. Sven cut a slice of it, put it in his mouth and chewed.

"Well, it is an unlikely pea-" was as much as Sven could mutter before Susan's backhand was unleashed upon his face.

-------

Comments please! I'm in this to get remarks on my writing first and winning is the last thing I care about!
 

Cyan

Banned
RevenantKioku said:
"Well, it is an unlikely pea-" was as much as Sven could mutter before Susan's backhand was unleashed upon his face.
:lol

I thought about doing something similar. ;) I like your setup though.

P.S. Grammar, dude.
 

batbeg

Member
Yeah, I'm thinking of the "pear" for the art thread (though I have no artistic merit, it'd be fun to enter anyway).

Still haven't thought of anything for this one since RumpledForeskin pre-stole my idea :mad:
 

Aaron

Member
The first draft was close to 1,500 words, so I had to sadly cut it way down.

***

Dragon Pair
word count: 989

Greap didn't believe in the all powerful gods, sailing in their unseen ships above, and casting their invisible lines to guide the fates of all the creatures who scrambled in the mud below. He sneered with his yellow, too large teeth at any notion of fate or destiny. There was nothing but luck, where a goblin's worth was decided by a roll of the dice.

He shifted those carved bones in his hand, skin rough and green on the outside, yellowish and soft on his palm. His eyes were large, with irises of crimson fading to orange, like the light of the dying sun overhead. His clothes were the remains of a brown jacket, stitched and belted, while his lizard-like feet were left bare. Greap's burlap sack jingled with the weight of many coins; copper, nickel, steel, from a dozen silver marks to a single gold leaf pried from the reluctant hand of a stupefied elf. He carried the wealth of a small kingdom upon his back, but he was hardly concerned. All the world knew to steal from a goblin was disarming at best.

His long, hard journey was nearly over. A thousand base entertainments surrounded him. Inns rose up as sandstone mountains with waves of gleaming tiles to catch the eye, catering to humans, elves, and even the occasional chimera, but not to goblins. Bright colored lights burned in the taverns below, making offers of hard drink and easy women in a least a dozen languages, but never in ghrok.

It hardly mattered. Greap only had eyes for the extinct volcano at the center of the island, cut and reshaped into a monolith of decadence. On its stepped surface, every vice and lust was catered to. Games of chance were the chief attraction, from the most mundane hand of poker to the most obscure round of hobbit tossing. These games ran night and day without fail, serviced by those who had come as guests, only to lose their coin and pride to the stern master of this island.

At the summit there was no painting or colored lights. Nothing more than a yawning archway of black stone, its passage obscured by thick smoke that wafted from somewhere within. Only one game was offered here, and only those who knew it would dare enter the lair of the chimera, Zeet.

The master himself was waiting within, seated upon his enormous throne of carven gold, marked with all the constellations that hung in the sky. Enormous because the chimera himself was a giant to make all other monsters seem miniscule. Head of a lion, lower body of a scorpion, this fearsome beast bore six muscled arms, and six fingers on each hand, save for one.

"You." The voice was as deep as a well, as gentle as a typhoon, though the rage in it was sweet song to Greap's ears.

The room was nothing more than a shell of volcanic rock, full of gleaming, razor sharp edges. A few blood red banners hung with the signs of the stars, stirring from the smoke of clawed braziers. Behind the chimera was the largest banner of all, listing all the odds for a game of Dragon Pair.

"Yep. Came to return these," Greap croaked, rolling the bones on the black basalt alter before the chimera.

"My... finger," Zeet stammered as he closed his five fingered fist around these offensive dice and crushed them to powder. Any other being would have fled from the red-skinned giant then, but no goblin could ever feel fear.

"And another round of Dragon Pair," Greap continued as he hefted and shoved his large burlap sack full or riches upon the altar, nearly upsetting the six decks of worn cards. "I'll be betting on the dragon."

"Again? You lost your share of the island last time. I warned you that match is impossible," Zeet grumbled, but he was already reaching around the sack for the cards, never able to resist any high stakes wager. Deft hands began shuffling from one deck to another with the grace of a flock of birds, intended to mesmerize the minds of lesser opponents.

"Only because you cheated thirty years ago," Greap spoke as six decks became three, shuffled and set upon the altar before him. Dragon Pair was a simple matching game. Six hundred and forty eight cards, though most bore a familiar green form. Goblins were worthless, naturally. Humans would earn some of one's coin back, while matching elves would result in a bit of profit. Chimeras could increase one's riches ten fold, but the dragons... there were only two in the entire deck. A player was lucky to see one in a lifetime. Two in one hand was unheard of.

"Top or bottom?" Zeet asked, reserved and confident in the odds stacked heavily in his favor.

"Top," Greap idly replied as he glanced about, without a care as his old enemy flipped over the top card of the first deck, revealing the black flashing scales, gleaming claws, and fiery breath.

"Top... or bottom?" the chimera pressed with a hiss of breath, annoyed by this unexpected stroke of luck.

"Bottom?" Greap spoke in dubious uncertainty. Far more slowly, the card was drawn from the bottom of the second deck, only to reveal the green bloated blob of a goblin.

"Top or bottom?" Zeet prompted impatiently, tapping the golden arm of his throne with one free hand. He was eager to end this farce, and drive off this troublesome goblin a second time.

"Top," Greap answered with a toothy grin. The chimera hesitated for only a moment before he flipped and tossed the final card onto the table, bearing the matching image of a dragon.

The triumphant goblin didn't say a word. He only reclaimed his sack as a down payment and walked away, feeling the mangled cards stuffed deep into his pocket, all bearing the crude likenesses of his kind.
 
Thanks for critiques so far. Rereading it I think I used the "he/him" pronoun too much. While writing it near the end it kinda started to feel a little obvious with all the pronouns to me too. Oh well.

As for the title, like alteredbeast I feel like it should be a theme/title tie-in. I'm gonna stick with the theme's as titles, if no one minds.

Iceman said:
Hey, was this maybe a story you cooked up for the first challenge? Things Unseen?

Nah, just popped in, although the "twist" is always running around my mind for random things. After I finished it thought, "hmm, this would have worked last week as well". :lol
 

Cyan

Banned
Aaron said:
Dragon Pair
Ah, I'd wondered if someone would have the same interpretation of "pair" that I did. That's ok though, my story is quite a bit different.

So was that just an unlikely pair, or did he cheat somehow?
 

Haly

One day I realized that sadness is just another word for not enough coffee.
I will be looking forward to "Hillary and Obama in the White House" shenanigans.

Don't let me down, GAF.
 
Wrong Man

They got the wrong man on the job and Jacob kept reminding himself of it. He could shoot, sure, but he couldn’t play poker for shit. It might not even get to the shooting if he can’t finish the hand. It didn’t make much sense. And he couldn’t just smoke the fucker now. For starters, he didn’t know which fucker was the fucker. This had to be some weird revenge shit, but of course he couldn’t question orders.

“Raise you a hundred,” the man to his left said smugly and, from his towering stack of chips, casually tossed a few in the pot. He was the type of prick who wore those red snakeskin boots you only see in bad westerns. Must think he’s a real bad-ass.

Jacob looked around in disgust. The place reeked of beer piss. Beer piss was always worse than regular piss. You couldn’t tell the difference unless you spent a little too much time in places such as this.

“What’ll it be, boy?” says Snake Boots. “You ain’t got shit. I know it.”

The bar attracted some assholes, but sure enough the man was right. Shit.

“All in,” Jacob said without hesitation and pushed in his remaining chips. It was more like a flick than a push, on account of there being not that many chips left on his side of the table.

The man to Jacob’s right was sweating like it was raining on his face. “Fold,” he says and throws his two cards down on the table in disgust.

Jacob glanced down at his cards one more time and prayed to Sweet Jesus. Looking up, he caught eyes with Tom, the dealer sitting across from him. Tom made a fierce look at him and then Jacob felt a kick to his shin. As he bit his lip, a card flew onto his lap from under the table. A King of Diamonds, which would go nicely with his King of Hearts, which would go very nicely with the King of Clubs sitting on the table. His prayers were answered. Or maybe Tom just knew he had a shitty hand.

He gave Tom a look back that said, thanks for the card, but how the hell am I supposed to get this in my hand without these two noticing?, and just at that moment Tom faked a sneeze-attack which sent Sweaty’s beer flying to the floor. It was just enough of a distraction for Jacob to pocket the Four of Hearts.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Tom said. “Shall we show them now?”

Jacob looked at Snake Boots who was looking right back at him. Grinning, Snake Boots throws over his two cards, revealing the King of Spades and Two of Clubs. Two pair.

Stoically, Jacob flips trips and takes the pot without a word.

“Son of a bitch,” says Snake Boots. His furious look shifts to Tom. “You’re gonna let me count that deck,” he says.

“Afraid not, sir,” Tom said, pointing, “And the door is that way.” Snake Boots sits his ass back down. Tom should be in Jacob’s seat. He’s the bluff caller. But that’s why he’s in the dealer’s seat making sure this thing goes down all right.

Tom starts dealing again and is staring down Jacob the entire time. He flips the first three cards. Everyone’s in with fifty. He flips the turn and it’s the Ace of Spades. Sweaty bets a hundred and Jacob and Snake Boots match. The river reveals the Eight of Clubs. That’s the signal; the bartender’s in the back and the shotgun’s in the front. Jacob breathes in, deeply and calmly, while Sweaty bids another two hundred. Snake Boots calls.

“Fold,” Jacob said and turns over his bottle to signify its emptiness. He starts for the bar while the other two reveal.

“Look at that,” he hears Snake Boots say lightly from behind him. “That’s quite an unlikely pair there, pal.”

Glancing over his shoulder from the bar, Jacob could see Sweaty’s Ace of Clubs and Eight of Spades. He reached over the bar and grabbed the shotgun.

“What the hell’s he doing?” Snake Boots says and dives for the floor.

Sweaty turns around and sees the shotgun pointed right at his face. “Please,” he says, “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

There’s never been a single one that hasn’t begged in some form or another. Jacob tries to ignore it but that rarely works. Sleeping can be rough, but these sons of bitches must’ve done something fierce to get people to get a person like Jacob to take care of them. Anyways, it’s not his call.

He asks Sweaty where he lives and Sweaty tells him and then he says, “I’ve got my orders,” and the gun goes off and Sweaty goes from sweating bullets to eating them.

Acting like his dealing a Dead Man’s Hand was merely coincidence, Tom was laid on the ground with Snake Boots and the other folk while pieces of Sweaty laid just about everywhere. It’d buy him a few hours before anyone figured out that there was another involved, but Tom would have to get out of town sooner or later; much sooner for Jacob, being the trigger man.

Shotgun propped over his right shoulder, Jacob went out the door and headed for the other side of town. Someone had to tell Sweaty’s family and it might as well be him.
 

Cyan

Banned
Ok, looks like mine will be the third card-game themed story. :( Now I kind of wish I had just posted it last night.
 

beelzebozo

Jealous Bastard
i'm surprised we haven't gotten a george & lenny style story yet. haha

and don't sweat it--what's important is being the best card game story. and i'm sure your writing style will bring something pretty unique to that topic, anyway
 

beelzebozo

Jealous Bastard
just finished mine, but i wrote it in my writing notebook where i do all my creative work. i'll try to type it up and post by this evening.
 
An Old Man Helps a Young Boy 971 Words

I walked along the road until I couldn’t walk anymore. It was dark and cloudy and the clouds rolled across the sky like gray over blackness. I had been walking for so long that my feet were blistered. I eventually stopped at the side of the road and collapsed. I sat on the ground in my blue jeans, waiting. Eventually a white Honda rumbled down the road. I stood up and started waving my hands, yelling loudly.

The car rolled to a stop. Relieved, I ran to the front door, opened it, and jumped into the passenger’s seat.

The driver was an old man with a wrinkled face. He looked at me and smiled.

“Where are you heading, boy?” he asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Well I’m going to Chicago,” he said.

“Take me there,” I said.

He nodded. His small hands gripped at the steering wheel and trembled as the car began to accelerate. It looked as though he had been driving for some time. Blue bags rested underneath his eyes and a kind of weary, blank expression covered his face.

I looked out at the cornfields that sat under the darkened sky. We drove a few miles and I suddenly grew restless.

“What’s in Chicago?” I asked.

“Family,” he said. “My grandson’s birthday.”

“Oh,” I said.

The old man nodded. “And where are you coming from?”

“I’m running away from home,” I said.

“What happened at home?” the old man asked.

“I robbed a bank and killed one of the tellers, and the police are after me.”

“I see,” the old man said. “Well we better get you to Chicago fast.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “I staked out the bank for the last two weeks. I knew exactly when the armored truck would come. I decided to make a move today, before the cash would be sent away. I took my pop’s revolver from where he stashes it in the closet and headed to the bank."

The old man nodded. He looked at me with a tender gaze that I hated.

“I got there early in the morning. It wasn’t too busy yet but there were still some folks doing business. I strolled in through the front door and walked right up to the main teller. You see, don’t you, I had it all planned out perfectly. No one was going to get hurt. I was only going to make threats, and as long as everybody followed my orders, I wouldn’t have hurt anyone. You believe me, don’t you? I wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”

“I believe you,” the old man said.

“But one of the tellers tried to sound the alarm. I told them they shouldn’t do that. I told them! So what else could I have done but shot her? I’m not going to jail. I don’t deserve that kind of thing. I’m just a kid. I don’t deserve that.”

“I agree,” the old man said.

“So I shot the teller and made a mad dash for the parking lot. Once I was in the parking lot I hot-wired a car and rolled out onto the street. I put the pedal down and started driving through the city. Soon the cops were after me, but I lost them after I drove through a cornfield. It was smooth sailing then, but the car quit on me and I had to start walking.”

“So the cops are going to be here soon?” the old man said.

“Yeah,” I said. I looked out the rear window. “Soon. They’ll be here soon.”

The old man didn’t say anything for some time. I grew uncomfortable, feeling that he was going over the fine points of my story. But he said nothing and only looked out at the empty road and at the cornfields that rolled onwards.

Finally the old man turned to me. “You know, I ran away from home once.”

“How come?” I said.

“Trouble with my father,” the old man said.

“That’s too bad,” I said.

“There isn’t anything worse,” the old man said. “It makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, even sometimes when it isn’t your fault.”

I nodded. “I guess I can see that,” I said.

The old man gestured to the glove compartment. “Why don’t you roll me a cig,” he said. “And roll one for yourself, too.”

I looked at him.

“Go on ahead,” he said. “I think you’re old enough.”

I held the tobacco and papers in my lap. He gave me directions on how to roll them. When I was done, I had rolled two uneven, but usable cigarettes.

“That’s a good job,” the old man said. He took a cigarette from me and lit it up with a zippo that he pulled from his jeans pocket. “Sometimes fathers are the stupidest son-bitches that you’ll ever meet,” the old man continued. “But it’s not your fault you were born to them. It took me a long time to realize that.” He looked at me, his tender gaze having returned. Smoke covered the entire front of the vehicle. He rolled down the window and the smoke was sucked out onto the empty plain. “A person like, you, though, you wouldn’t have any problems understanding that. You would understand that you’re a better man than he’ll ever be. A person like you would realize that you still got your entire life ahead of you.”

“I guess I would." I took a puff of my cigarette and started to cough.

A few more miles down the road the old man turned the car around, with my consent, and dropped me off at my home twenty miles back from where we came. My father looked at the old man with a certain jealousy, understanding, maybe, that the old man had earned more respect from me in one care ride than he ever would.
 

Penguin

Member
Cyan said:
Ok, looks like mine will be the third card-game themed story. :( Now I kind of wish I had just posted it last night.

*Goes to write a card-themed story and post it before Cyan*

Well mine isn't card themed. I didn't actual know how to work an odd pair into cards. Go figure.
 
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