This is a short story inspired by my mom and the movies Detroit Rock City and Dazed and Confused (great movies). I want to eventually turn this into a longer piece.
It was a hot, sticky afternoon. Tessa, Erica, and Sherri, the three musketeers, as they liked to call themselves, were out lounging by the pool in Erica’s backyard. They wore string bikinis suitable for tanning, and chatted like a group of teenage friends would. There was only one thing on Tessa’s mind, though, and Sherri could not understand what the big deal was.
“I don’t even know why you guys like them so much,” Sherri said.
Erica and Tessa rolled their eyes.
“It’s just a bunch of . . . noise.”
“Whatever, Sherri. It’s a hell of a lot better than ABBA,” Erica shot back.
Tessa laughed.
“Oh, fuck you. I do not like ABBA.”
Tessa and Erica laughed harder.
“Me and Tessa already have everything all figured out. I’m going to marry Robert, Tessa’s going to marry Jimmy, and then we’ll live with them in their castles in Europe,” Erica said, and then sighed whole-heartedly as she tucked a gold lock of hair behind her ear.
As long as Tessa had been old enough to truly appreciate and love music – real music, not that soft-core pansy crap played on variety shows, she had only one real goal in life. At the ripe ol’ age of sixteen, certain things were supposed to be high on the to-do list, things like graduating high school, landing a date with a hot guy, or even losing one’s virginity, but not according to Tessa. There was really only one aspiration, festering inside like a bad STD refusing to clear up, that really mattered. The one thing she knew she had to accomplish before the day her last breath was taken was to see Led Zeppelin, live, in concert.
Jun 7, 2010
May 23, 2010
Untitled
This is something I wrote a few years ago. It's simple, and kind of cheesy, but the reason I like this story is because it was for a writing assignment, a "round robin" as my teacher called it, where you write a paragraph, and then keep passing it along until it comes back to you. And this was my story, after I edited it. Enjoy!
“Where are my shoes?” Erin asked irritably, rushing through the apartment.
Brandon sat calmly in the sofa, dressed in his tuxedo. “Honey, we’re going to be late if you don’t get moving. You have a closet full of shoes.”
“I know!” she shouted. “Stop pressuring me.”
It had been a rough couple of months, but this award ceremony was supposed to be the start of a new stage in their relationship. So far, it was starting off rocky.
The buzzer on the wall went off.
“The taxi is here,” Brandon announced as he stood.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Erin replied as she scurried out of the bedroom, frustration evident on her face.
“About time,” Brandon said under his breath.
Erin shot him a threatening glare.
“Where are my shoes?” Erin asked irritably, rushing through the apartment.
Brandon sat calmly in the sofa, dressed in his tuxedo. “Honey, we’re going to be late if you don’t get moving. You have a closet full of shoes.”
“I know!” she shouted. “Stop pressuring me.”
It had been a rough couple of months, but this award ceremony was supposed to be the start of a new stage in their relationship. So far, it was starting off rocky.
The buzzer on the wall went off.
“The taxi is here,” Brandon announced as he stood.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Erin replied as she scurried out of the bedroom, frustration evident on her face.
“About time,” Brandon said under his breath.
Erin shot him a threatening glare.
On the Essence of ZOMBIES
Written for an assignment in 2009 - I rather enjoyed this. It's more like creative nonfiction than fiction, but I think you'll forgive me.
The streets have suddenly and inexplicably been filled with ravaged killers, hungry for flesh of the human kind. Overnight, it seems as though, the world has been turned upside down as civilization begins to crumble with no explanations as to why the dead have began walking and slaughtering. A group of survivors have entrapped themselves inside a mall, or perhaps it is a Wal-Mart – it matters little. They live for weeks, months even, locked in their safe house, plotting an escape route to the “Promised Land”, a place where no reanimated corpses pray on the living. They stock up on food, weapons, and any other necessities they might need, but mostly weapons. The relentless killers have gathered around the compound, waiting for a crack so that they may slip in and feast on blood. They are hungry and their numbers grow as the days get longer.
Finally, the day has come and the survivors make their escape. Things do not go as planned, and many are hurt, wounded, or killed, only to turn into killers themselves. The one or two remaining survivors eventually get to their location after many struggles, but it is not the haven they had been promised, and more walking dead begin to close in.
The streets have suddenly and inexplicably been filled with ravaged killers, hungry for flesh of the human kind. Overnight, it seems as though, the world has been turned upside down as civilization begins to crumble with no explanations as to why the dead have began walking and slaughtering. A group of survivors have entrapped themselves inside a mall, or perhaps it is a Wal-Mart – it matters little. They live for weeks, months even, locked in their safe house, plotting an escape route to the “Promised Land”, a place where no reanimated corpses pray on the living. They stock up on food, weapons, and any other necessities they might need, but mostly weapons. The relentless killers have gathered around the compound, waiting for a crack so that they may slip in and feast on blood. They are hungry and their numbers grow as the days get longer.
Finally, the day has come and the survivors make their escape. Things do not go as planned, and many are hurt, wounded, or killed, only to turn into killers themselves. The one or two remaining survivors eventually get to their location after many struggles, but it is not the haven they had been promised, and more walking dead begin to close in.
Pop
An ode to pop culture
Snap, crackle, pop –
That’s finger lickin’ good,
Because it melts in your mouth,
Not in your hands.
Not to be confused with the
Happiest place on Earth.
It’s like a virgin because
Once you pop, you can’t stop.
The best part of waking up?
Doughnuts. They’re great,
But something’s missing - Got milk?
Your face - is teenage wasteland.
Don’t have a cow, but you’re fired,
Because I did not have sexual relations
With that woman. Gosh!
You’ll find me where everyone knows your name.
So go ahead and hit me baby, one more time.
Eat your heart out, because I’m lovin’ it.
And I love you like a fat kid loves cake,
But not as much as I love rock and roll.
That’s what she said, but just do it!
Double your pleasure.
Can you hear me now?
Tell me about it, stud.
Sure, that’s hot, but that is not
My dick in a box. As if!
Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto by Chuck Klosterman
Snap, crackle, pop –
That’s finger lickin’ good,
Because it melts in your mouth,
Not in your hands.
Not to be confused with the
Happiest place on Earth.
It’s like a virgin because
Once you pop, you can’t stop.
The best part of waking up?
Doughnuts. They’re great,
But something’s missing - Got milk?
Your face - is teenage wasteland.
Don’t have a cow, but you’re fired,
Because I did not have sexual relations
With that woman. Gosh!
You’ll find me where everyone knows your name.
So go ahead and hit me baby, one more time.
Eat your heart out, because I’m lovin’ it.
And I love you like a fat kid loves cake,
But not as much as I love rock and roll.
That’s what she said, but just do it!
Double your pleasure.
Can you hear me now?
Tell me about it, stud.
Sure, that’s hot, but that is not
My dick in a box. As if!
Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto by Chuck Klosterman
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