My Novel
Out of the 30 - 40 visitors I get a day between my two sites, only three chose to let me know they would like me to post excerpts of my novel. So, I'm going to take that as a broader microchasm of how the rest of you feel and go ahead and post a bit of the beginning. To give you a little idea of where I am in terms of finishing- you are about to read the beginning of Chapter One (not all of it). I finished Chapter Three two nights ago.
I hope you enjoy a twisted and odd look at life through the eyes of Rob...
A lot can be said about the trip we took. I’ll say most of it. Travis and I live in Southern California, near Santa Monica. It’s pretty, but it’s LA. LA sucks. Parts of LA don’t suck. We lived in a nice slice of suburbia called Westchester. It’s only important because of the jail we get thrown in later. But I’m getting ahead of myself, we have places to go, idiots to meet, girls to piss off. The trip really started as a joke. The trip was a joke.
Chapter 1 - My Name is Rob
I never quite understood why math was important to English majors. English majors, of all other majors, really have no idea what the hell they are doing. Travis and I are English majors. We sit in the back of the same goddamn Math class, listen to the teacher read out of the book, and nudge each other to keep from snoring. Travis leans over to me, “How much are we paying for this school?”
I’m not sure, but I think about it. “Maybe 40 grand, why?”
“Dude, we could go to fuckin Mexico and live like kings for 40 grand. Let’s open up an In N Out Burger down there. Shit, Mexicans love McDonald’s, they’d go apeshit for In N Out.”
I’m compelled to say that In N Out is a private non franchising corporation, but I don’t give shit. Plus before class Travis and I had two shots of Bacardi. Not nearly enough to get us hammered, but enough to make the clock go by faster. The girls in this class are aware that Travis and I are hammered- they haven’t decided if it’s cool or not. Travis and I don’t care.
The teacher continues to drone on about exponential equations. Travis leans over again, “Are we partying tonight?”
“What day is it?”
“Wednesday”
I consider my options. Thursday through Saturday are our normal operating hours. The girls at this college, however, are boring. They are gorgeous, but boring. We could drive to UCSB and pass out in Travis’s car. No, I’m not that desperate. Then in the midst of my thoughts, Travis has a moment of clarity.
“Jesus tap dancing Christ.” A few girls start giggling, Travis is louder than he realizes.
“What? Did you have a thought? Don’t lose it.”
“Fuck you. We have a four day weekend dickhead.”
It takes a moment for this to settle in my brain. Millions of doors are opening to us. We could throw parties at our place, we could party hop the neighborhood, pass out in Travis’s beach house. Again, Travis interrupts my thought process.
“Dude, we should throw a party at the beach house”
And with that, it was settled. He didn’t have to ask me twice. That just left the little chore of getting enough alcohol to last me, Travis and whatever girls decided to join us in our debauchery. Fuck guys. My alcohol is for me and the girl next to me. I may have said this out loud.
“Fuckin A man.” I get a nod of approval from Travis. A blonde girl in front of me laughs. She turns around and stares at me.
She smiles and asks, “Are you guys drunk?”
For a second I think about letting Travis handle this beauty. However, I beat him to the punch.
“My name is Rob, and I’ll be as drunk as you want me to be.”
I hope you enjoy a twisted and odd look at life through the eyes of Rob...
A lot can be said about the trip we took. I’ll say most of it. Travis and I live in Southern California, near Santa Monica. It’s pretty, but it’s LA. LA sucks. Parts of LA don’t suck. We lived in a nice slice of suburbia called Westchester. It’s only important because of the jail we get thrown in later. But I’m getting ahead of myself, we have places to go, idiots to meet, girls to piss off. The trip really started as a joke. The trip was a joke.
Chapter 1 - My Name is Rob
I never quite understood why math was important to English majors. English majors, of all other majors, really have no idea what the hell they are doing. Travis and I are English majors. We sit in the back of the same goddamn Math class, listen to the teacher read out of the book, and nudge each other to keep from snoring. Travis leans over to me, “How much are we paying for this school?”
I’m not sure, but I think about it. “Maybe 40 grand, why?”
“Dude, we could go to fuckin Mexico and live like kings for 40 grand. Let’s open up an In N Out Burger down there. Shit, Mexicans love McDonald’s, they’d go apeshit for In N Out.”
I’m compelled to say that In N Out is a private non franchising corporation, but I don’t give shit. Plus before class Travis and I had two shots of Bacardi. Not nearly enough to get us hammered, but enough to make the clock go by faster. The girls in this class are aware that Travis and I are hammered- they haven’t decided if it’s cool or not. Travis and I don’t care.
The teacher continues to drone on about exponential equations. Travis leans over again, “Are we partying tonight?”
“What day is it?”
“Wednesday”
I consider my options. Thursday through Saturday are our normal operating hours. The girls at this college, however, are boring. They are gorgeous, but boring. We could drive to UCSB and pass out in Travis’s car. No, I’m not that desperate. Then in the midst of my thoughts, Travis has a moment of clarity.
“Jesus tap dancing Christ.” A few girls start giggling, Travis is louder than he realizes.
“What? Did you have a thought? Don’t lose it.”
“Fuck you. We have a four day weekend dickhead.”
It takes a moment for this to settle in my brain. Millions of doors are opening to us. We could throw parties at our place, we could party hop the neighborhood, pass out in Travis’s beach house. Again, Travis interrupts my thought process.
“Dude, we should throw a party at the beach house”
And with that, it was settled. He didn’t have to ask me twice. That just left the little chore of getting enough alcohol to last me, Travis and whatever girls decided to join us in our debauchery. Fuck guys. My alcohol is for me and the girl next to me. I may have said this out loud.
“Fuckin A man.” I get a nod of approval from Travis. A blonde girl in front of me laughs. She turns around and stares at me.
She smiles and asks, “Are you guys drunk?”
For a second I think about letting Travis handle this beauty. However, I beat him to the punch.
“My name is Rob, and I’ll be as drunk as you want me to be.”
posted by greg at 11:51 PM
1 Comments:
nice. but what really stood out for me is in the second major paragraph: the character says he's not had nearly enough alcohol to be hammered, but then he says he IS hammered-- the girls can tell. it doesn't read logically. by the way, i don't consider myself an expert in literary criticism by any means, but i do have a b.a. in english that i don't use except to correct other people's grammar, etc. it's very annoying, especially because i'm usually drunk when i do it.
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