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Adventures in Real Life turned to general essay purposes.

Started by Freeky, February 09, 2012, 06:40:23 AM

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Freeky

So the other essay I wrote didn't actually work for this assignment.  I just finished writing up and printing 27 copies of a new version, produced in full below.  I had to make some of this up from nothing, and other parts out of stuff that has happened before, because I don't have anything that WOULD work for this essay unless I did make it up. 

I felt proud enough of this that I wanted to share it with you. 

Real names removed here when used in the essay.

Adventures In Real Life

   I could hear Enabler laughing in exhilaration as Roger came to a stop.  He stuck his head out the window and yelled up at me, "I think we should be done for the day!" 

   I pulled the unlit cigar out of my mouth and shouted back, "BALLS!"  I never smoke, but there's some things you need to be "smoking" a cheap cigar while you're doing, or else what's the point?  I adjusted my grip on Roger's Bisley, and plucked at the tie-down securing the lawn chair to the now permanently dented roof of the jeep.  "You had a way longer turn.  One more go!"  I heard more laughing from inside the jeep, this time from Alty, who was sometimes from the internet but mostly from Alaska. 

   "I never thought you guys were serious about this sunroofing thing," he said. 

   "We were serious, Alty.  We're serious people," Roger said.

   "WE'RE SERIOUS ABOUT HAVING A GOOD TIME!" I shouted down.  I couldn't help it.  I speak in all capital letters when I'm excited, and there's nothing quite as exhilarating as being strapped to the roof of an old beat up jeep as it drives at about twenty miles an hour down a dirt road, shooting at signs you've supplied for that express purpose, with a revolver that is louder than that harpy Eris cackling at three dumb broads fighting over some silly apple and a war that annhialated an entire city.

   Enabler smacked the back of Roger's head - I could hear it even in the wide open desert and outside the car - and said "Yes, again!" 

   "AHH!  Woman!  Alty, do you see how these crazy womenfolk treat their holy man?"

   I grinned.  I knew I could always count on Enabler to back me up when it came to fun-having.  From the muffled laughter, I knew they had rolled up their windows again.  I made sure I was secured to the makeshift harness on top of the jeep.  I reloaded the six shooter.  I kicked the roof of the jeep as I might a steed, spurring it onward towards victory.  The jeep trundled around in the clearing at the end of the nameless dirt road I had once found while driving up Oracle out past that small town Catalina, trying to escape my worries with speed and reckless lane-changing.  When he was turned around, I took the safety was off (there's stupid and then there's suicidal, kids!) and kicked again, signalling Roger to GOGOGOGOGOOOO!   

   I whooped as he peeled out.  The first sign, "NO TRESPASSING," came up on my left, fast.  BLAMpwong!  A solid hit!  I recocked and aimed to my right, where another sign proclaiming "HIPPIES USE BACK ENTRANCE" was bearing down on me.  BLAMping!  Another hit!  The next sign, "PRIVATE PROPERTY,"  was too close, but I tried anyway. Recock     BLAM!  Missed.Recock     BLAMping!Recock     BLAM!Recock     BLAMpwow!  Not bad, as I unhooked myself from the rooftop contraption after the jeep had rolled to a stop. 

   After removing the lawn chair and various ropes from the damaged vehicle and stowing it in the back, I clambered in next to Alty.  I love his name, but I can't for the life of me pronounce it.  So I call him by his internet handle, Alty.  "Where to now?" I asked. 

   "The Grill, I'm starving," Roger responded.  The Grill is a restaurant down on Congress Street, a block or so west of the Hotel Congress.  "We'll figure out what to do next after that."  We drove off.

   The ride was long (and for the back seat riders, cramped), but was filled with talk and funny stories.  The Good Reverend Roger, my best friend and larger-than-life extraodinaire, led the conversation.  Enabler, his wife and my other best friend, was a quiet one, although not in a "I'm totally shy" or "I'm such a downer" way, more like "I'll add to this conversation when I'm good and ready, and you had best listen when I do!" way.  She's awesome like that.  Alty, the angry Alaskan biped, was listening to Roger with good natured incredulity.  I was chilling in the back seat, laughing to hear all the outrageous things Roger recounted, some of which I personally saw, like the time at the Meetrack (small dive on Drachmann, across the street from the Downtown Pima campus) when this drunk dude and his girlfriend started... Well, they were obviously having fun, I'll put it that way, on the pingpong table, while at the same time these two guys were talking about chili recipes.  Good times.

   Lunch was a loud affair, full of food and good fun.  Alty, the spirit stirring within him, began ranting about how stupid boys (the legal age kind, not the minor kind) are, and how eventually he can't even look men in the face, and then he swears off them forever, and then he gets a girlfriend and everything is going great until she leaves him to go back to Wisconsin and her family, and the whole cycle starts over again.  It was very inspiring.  Eventually, the food and the mood for ranting ran out, so we decided to walk around Fourth Avenue, and see what there was to see. 

   So there we were, walking down Fourth Ave., when what did my eyes see but another person I know;  Shayne, the compulsive liar, repeated thief, and general sociopath who had gotten with my bestie Torch, abused her, ran around on her, saddled her with a kid, and then, when she'd finally had enough and left him, refused to support their daughter or even see the little girl ever again.  All that rose in my memory and my gullet like a wave.  How I hated him.  How I despised him.  How I wished I could wipe the ever-present smirk off his stupid face.   Preferably with something sharp, like a bag of broken glass. 

   He spotted me, and came over to say hi.  Because I guess that's what you do if you see someone you know?  I was seething, enraged;  how dare he intrude on my good day?  "Hey, Freeky, long time no see!  How are you?" 

   He wasn't being particularly offensive, I thought as I grit my teeth, so I supposed that it wouldn't be polite to get hostile right away.  "I've been fine.  Torch has been doing great, too."  He looked at me blankly.  Just then I noticed a girl hovering possessively behind him.  She was skinny, technically pretty, and vapid looking.  She was also looking at me in a weird way.  Sort of judgementally. 

   I took a quick stock of myself: old, worn, ill-fitting jeans and T-shirt; a bit on the heavy side, with bad teeth that gives me that meth-mouth look; hanging out with a middle aged couple and some pale freak.  Even so, she had no right to be judging me and my friends.  Oh well, so much for polite.  "I see you have a new lady friend!  My, you do go through them, don't you?  Is this one your main squeeze or are you seeing her behind someone's back?"  I put on a look of polite curiosity.  Inside, I crowed as his face turned red and he balled his fists.  So what?  I thought.  So fucking what if he hits me?  It'll be worth it.  I recalled a line of Subgenius dogma, "Don't just eat a cheeseburger, eat the hell out of that cheeseburger!"  Well, I was certainly taking the situation to The Wall, but I was thinking to myself I think I'm about to bust through it. 

   I resisted looking around at the others.  I sensed that if I showed weakness, if I took my eyes off him for a minute, stopped daring him to punch me in the face, he really would.  He looked at Alty, looked at Roger.  Alty is a skinny dude, but he's really tall, and doesn't look like a push over.  Roger is just intimidating in every possible way, including his personality, even when he's just standing there doing nothing.  I realized that Shayne would probably walk away, and felt a measure of disappointment that I would not be trading blows with him; the only time in my life when I would have done so with anyone.  "Whatever, you stupid bitch," he said.  I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't stop the condescending laughter as it burst out of me.  He turned even more red, then said "Come on," to his girl toy as they walked away.

   The day was getting late, but I suddenly realized there was one more thing we could do before heading back home.  We could go to the shrine of the Black Madonna! 

   Our friend Nigel, who is sometimes from the internet but mostly from Portland, Oregon, had visited us two years before Alty did, and had brought her (at the time) boyfriend, who was a Tucson native.  He had made a study of the cult of the Black Madonna, and told us about this wall/shrine deal, near the Tucson Convention Center.  I don't remember what street it's on, but you go south past the TCC (on Church I think? Whichever street the courthouse is on) parallel to the highway and turn right at the four way stop sign intersection, and then you go towards the highway for two to five blocks and turn left, and you go down a short way and there's this out of place wall with candles next to a curio style gift shop.  If you get close enough to the wall to take a closer look, there's rolled up pieces of paper in there, stuck in the holes of the mortar.  Nigel's boyfriend said that they are prayers to the Black Madonna from people who think they're so damned as to be irredeemable in God's eyes.  I don't know if they are or not, I didn't look at them.  It seemed rude and intrusive,  and somehow just plain wrong.

   Well, we went there, and Alty was suitably impressed, awed, and creeped out.   He dared me to shout at the wall, any old thing would do.  It was just that kind of creepy vibe, the kind where you're not sure if what brushed against your leg was a piece of seaweed or some eldritch elder god from beyond time and space. 

   "I AINT SCURRED!"  I whisper-shouted.  I hesitated for a minute, then took a deep breath. 

"IF YOU'RE GOING TO EAT THAT CHEESEBURGER, EAT THE GODDAMNED HELL OUT OF IT!"



EDIT:
Freeky,
Not above using sex to sell.

Luna

That's it.  Somehow, I am making the pilgrimmage to Tuscon.

Awesome writing, Freeky.
Death-dealing hormone freak of deliciousness
Pagan-Stomping Valkyrie of the Interbutts™
Rampaging Slayer of Shit-Fountain Habitues

"My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know, everybody you see, everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake, and they live in a state of constant, total amazement."

Quote from: The Payne on November 16, 2011, 07:08:55 PM
If Luna was a furry, she'd sex humans and scream "BEASTIALITY!" at the top of her lungs at inopportune times.

Quote from: Nigel on March 24, 2011, 01:54:48 AM
I like the Luna one. She is a good one.

Quote
"Stop talking to yourself.  You don't like you any better than anyone else who knows you."

Pope Pixie Pickle


Don Coyote

You actually ride on the top of the jeep with a revolver shooting at stuff? :eek:

I WANT IN ON THAT!!!!!!!!  :fap:

Also, epic win for the condescending laughter.


Freeky

Yes.  Yes it is fun.  And yes, you must come down here. 

I promise not to let Tucson eat you.

The Good Reverend Roger

Quote from: Pope Coyote of the Wolffnords on February 09, 2012, 06:21:31 PM
You actually ride on the top of the jeep with a revolver shooting at stuff? :eek:

I WANT IN ON THAT!!!!!!!!  :fap:

Also, epic win for the condescending laughter.

Sunroofing is the sport of kings.
" It's just that Depeche Mode were a bunch of optimistic loveburgers."
- TGRR, shaming himself forever, 7/8/2017

"Billy, when I say that ethics is our number one priority and safety is also our number one priority, you should take that to mean exactly what I said. Also quality. That's our number one priority as well. Don't look at me that way, you're in the corporate world now and this is how it works."
- TGRR, raising the bar at work.

Mesozoic Mister Nigel

"I'm guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk," Charles Wick said. "It was very complicated."


Freeky

Thanks.  :) 

Is there any bits that need work?  I'm supposed to be getting a message across without telling the audience what the message is, and instead showing it.  This is being peer review in class, and then I have to rewrite it, but I trust you spags a lot more than people who can't even syntax.


ñͤͣ̄ͦ̌̑͗͊͛͂͗ ̸̨̨̣̺̼̣̜͙͈͕̮̊̈́̈͂͛̽͊ͭ̓͆ͅé ̰̓̓́ͯ́́͞

I have no criticisms, Freeky, it flows really, really well.

Well done.
P E R   A S P E R A   A D   A S T R A

Freeky


Elder Iptuous

Awesome Freeky!

i would respond, if asked what the message is supposed to be, that it is the last line.  is that not what you were going for?

Phox

That was pretty fucking awesome. Damn, I need to hang out with all of you fuckers.  :lulz:

Freeky

Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 05:16:47 PM
Awesome Freeky!

i would respond, if asked what the message is supposed to be, that it is the last line.  is that not what you were going for?

The reader is supposed to absorb what value I hold that I'm telling you about.  Like osmosis or someshit.  Would you say "eating the hell out of that fucking cheeseburger" is a value I hold, based on the text?

Elder Iptuous

hmmm.  i guess mebbe that's a little different then 'convey a message'...
if i was to guess a value that you hold from the story, i would guess... passion or adventurousness.
whatever the case, if you don't get an A, you have my approval in whipping out the meathamma.

Freeky

#14
Quote from: Iptuous on February 10, 2012, 10:38:42 PM
hmmm.  i guess mebbe that's a little different then 'convey a message'...
if i was to guess a value that you hold from the story, i would guess... passion or adventurousness.
whatever the case, if you don't get an A, you have my approval in whipping out the meathamma.

That's what I was really going for.  "Go on adventure!" 

Also it could be "friendship is good", because the others got a lot of spotlight.