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I used to write a lot, then not anymore and lately again. Figured I might as well actually post stuff and have other people read them now. So read, tell me what you think, (constructively) criticize and so forth. Any advice is always welcome, especially when it comes to stuff like punctuation (and keep in mind that although I'm not bad at it, english ISN'T my first language )
To start off, here's something I wrote last week. My friend gave me a premise, and I was to try and make something amusing out of it. For slight spoiler reasons I'll put said premise after the story.
To start off, here's something I wrote last week. My friend gave me a premise, and I was to try and make something amusing out of it. For slight spoiler reasons I'll put said premise after the story.
Spoiler ShowD-Bomber
“Hello, I’m here for my appointment?†The woman behind the desk was chewing on her pencil. She didn’t bother looking up: “An’ you are?†“D-Bomber, miss.†The secretary looked at her agenda. “You’re half an hour early.†D-Bomber chuckled a bit: “Well you know what they say: the early bird gets the worm.†The secretary took her phone: “Hold on, I’ll check… Mr. Davenport? Yes, your 10 o’clock is here. Uhuh. Ok. Mr. Davenport will see you now, sir.â€
“Many thanks, but could you open the door for me? I don’t handle doors very well.†This made the secretary look up: “What do you mean you don’t…†She dropped her pencil. “But, but you’re a… I mean, you can’t.. I uh, what?†D-Bomber repeated: “The door please?†The secretary opened the door: “R.. right this way.â€
D-Bomber entered the room. Mr Davenport, a balding man pushing his 60s, was smoking a cigar in his much too large chair, turned towards the window. It boasted an incredible city view. “Take a seat,†he said with an incredibly raspy voice. D-Bomber went to the chair in front of him. “Thank you sir.â€
Davenport kept staring out the window: “Now, would you mind telling me why someone who comes out of the blue, without any credentials whatsoever, without even any kind of documentation of a single won match, would think he’s cut out to be a pro-wrestler?â€
“I realise this is somewhat unorthodox, mr Davenport, but where I grew up, there weren’t really any opportunities for me. But I saw your ads, you know the ones, where you say you’ll talk to anyone who steps up and will make them a star, so I figured ‘That’s my chance,’ and here I am. I know I have some catching up to do, but pro-wrestling is all I’ve ever dreamed of since I was a chick.â€
Davenport grumbles: “I knew I should’ve worded that differen… wait, did you just say you used to be a chick?†D-Bomber replies: “Of course, everyone goes through that stage, don’t they?â€
Davenport turns his chair around, but doesn’t see anyone: “Where are you?†D-Bomber chuckles again: “In the chair of course.â€
Davenport sighs: “Listen, no offense but I don’t deal with dwarves. That’s an entirely different league.†This angered D-Bomber: “I’m not a dwarf!â€
Davenport leans over his desk to take a better look: “Then what the hell…†He dropped his cigar from his mouth in surprise. There was a sparrow in the chair.
“But you… you’re a.. a…†“ A what, sir?â€
“A BIRD!â€
D-Bomber, again offended: “A SPARROW, sir. You don’t go around calling other people mammals, now do you?â€
Davenport picked up his cigar. “I’m sorry. I think. I just never had a bird, sparrow or otherwise, in here.†He lighted up his cigar again: “Except for The Great Avian’s bird squadron, obviously. But they don’t talk…. YOU CAN TALK?!†He dropped his cigar again.
“Yes, but that's besides the point.â€
“I don't think it is. What’s your name?â€
“D-Bomber.â€
“No, not your stage name, your real name.â€
“Sparrows don’t really do names.â€
Davenport just stares at D-Bomber. “Ok, D-Bomber. How come you can talk?â€
“I don’t know, I just could. How come humans talk?â€
Davenport was at a loss here. “Whatever, you don’t know, fair enough…†D-Bomber interrupts him: “I’m not a bird-brain.†“Wasn’t going to say that…†“I mean, literally, YES, I have a bird’s brain, obviously, but I am not a figurative bird brain. I mean, I...†Davenport holds up his hand to shut him up. He was trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Listen, D-Bomber, you are a sparrow, correct?â€
“Yes.†He pecks at something in his feather coat.
“And you want to get into pro-wrestling?â€
“Yes.â€
“As... a mascot or something?â€
“No mr Davenport sir, I want to be a wrestler.â€
Davenport pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is there anything else you can do besides talk?â€
D-Bomber holds his wing to his head and thinks. “Well, I can fly.â€
“Ok, yeah, I know that, you are a sparrow after all. I meant, how strong are you?â€
“Well, I’m the strongest of the nest. But not stronger than that asshole from 2 trees down the lane.â€
“So, as strong as your average sparrow?â€
“Yes.â€
“That means you can’t do something like, say, pick up a chair and smash someone over the head with it?â€
“I could, but only if you made a really tiny chair for me.â€
“So, again, you are just a sparrow. That talks.â€
D-Bomber happily adds: “I’m also a quick study.â€
“I’m sorry kid, but I don’t think this is going to work out.â€
D-Bomber becomes angry again: “I’m not a kid anymore! I’m at least 3 months old.â€
“At least 3 months?â€
“Sparrows don’t really do math either.â€
“Ok, whatever, doesn’t matter! You’re a bird! Birds can’t be wrestlers.â€
“Why not?â€
“Because any wrestler would crush you to death the moment he does so much as even look at you. You are outmatched in any way except flight, and that doesn’t help much because when you fight, you’re gonna need to get in their reach again. And their reach is far greater than yours.â€D-Bomber put his wing to his head again: “I can see why that would be a problem. But I got it all figured out! I just dive bomb them all the time.â€
“That won’t save you past your first fight. If you even finish that.â€
“Mr Davenport, I swear, I would work much harder than any other wrestler.â€
“Hard work doesn’t enter into it son, you are a goddamn sparrow. You can’t fight in a human competition.â€
D-Bomber jumps up Davenport’s desk. If he were capable of any sort of facialq expression, it would be an angry scowl: “You’re just like my father! Every time he saw me looking through a human's window, watching a match, he’d stare at me. ‘Tsjip Tsjip’ he’d say.â€
Davenport looked puzzled: “Er, what does that mean?â€
“I don’t know, I don’t speak sparrow.†This just confused Davenport even more. D-Bomber continued: “But I’m pretty sure it was full of BS like following in his footsteps and taking up the family trade.â€
“And what would that be?â€
“Sparrow stuff I guess. You know, the general: build nests, find a mate, vomit food in your hatchlings’ mouths...â€
“Finding a mate doesn’t sound so bad.â€
“But, Mr Davenport, it’s not what I want. I don’t want to be some pansy-ass fake actor. I want to be where the action is, to be a wrestler! I have to be a wrestler. I know that deep down, in my tiny sparrow heart, I am a wrestler.
“Somehow I very much doubt that.â€
Davenport takes a deep sigh and walks around his desk. “Listen, son, you are missing something important here.â€
“And what’s that?â€
“You are a sparrow. You can talk. And pretty well, I might add. I’m not a biologist, but I’m pretty sure this is unprecedented. Scientists would love to take a look at you. They’d offer you anything you could ever want. Hell, you wouldn’t even have to look for a mate, they’d probably be offering them by the dozens just to see if they’d get more talking sparrows out of it.â€
“Sparrows mate for life though.â€
“Again, besides the point. You could lead a cushy life for however long sparrows live.â€
“In captivity we can get 23 years.â€
“Really? Thought it was much less.â€
D-Bomber looked down. Probably dejected, but again, no facial expression: “But it’s not what I want. I don’t care about science, I want to be famous! Being a wrestler is my dream!â€
“D-Bomber, you WOULD be famous. Doesn’t matter what you do, by virtue of talking you’d be the most famous sparrow ever. And if you really want just that, fly onwards to Hollywood. Not a chance in hell any manager there would pass this up. You’d have your own tv-show by the end of the year. Or a movie. Or anything really. I have a couple of friends there, I could set you up.â€
“I don’t care about acting mr Davenport, I want to be a wrestler!â€
Davenport was about ready to cry: “But you’d never be believable. We can’t sell a talking sparrow as a contender. You’d be nice to see once, maybe twice. At best you’d run a season before the audience tires of you. Because in the end I’m afraid you’re just a one note gag.â€
D-Bomber flew up: “I WILL be a wrestler, mr Davenport! I don’t care how long it takes me, but I’ll do anything, with or without you!†He flies towards the door.
“Uhm, could you get the door for me please? Sparrows don’t really do doors.â€
Davenport moves over and opens the door for him. On the other side his secretary does her best to make it seem like she hadn’t moved from her seat.
“Good luck kid.â€
“Screw you Davenport!†D-Bomber shouted, as he flew off through the hallway.
Spoiler ShowThe premise should be obvious: a sparrow that wanted to become a pro-wrestler. However aside from talking, the sparrow wasn't allowed to have any other special features about him that would've helped in his goal. No super-strength or whatever. Only talking.