The Gray Incident

[spshane]

delete please

[brianpatrick]

Yeah, I hate that when the giant gray penis comes.

This is funny. It's a good set-up for something. I'd keep reading it.

Are you looking for SPaG help with this? I noticed a few things—be happy to point them out if you're interested.


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[spshane]

yes, please. Me SPaG sucks.

[IanG]

Even with a subject as raw as this you could vary the language a little more. There's a lot of repetition of 'shit.' An occasional 'crap' would break it up a bit.

You evoke a character on a loosing streak well in just a few sentences.

[brianpatrick]

Originally Posted by spshane

Sat in the lobby of the rehab center with all my shit in a clear plastic bag. After an hour, I started thinking no one would come for me and how I couldn't really blame them. During my many bouts with the bottle, I managed to piss on pretty much everyone in my life. But a while later, Mom bustled through the doors. Said she left the car running at the curb. "Get your shit and come on."

I scooped up my sack of crap and followed her to the car.

"Think it'll stick this time?" She didn't even look at me as she spoke.

"Hope so," I said. Because no one wants to be thirty-five, sleeping on their mother's couch, and riding a bicycle to work.

I pitched my bag on the back seat of her station wagon, slid into the passenger seat, and braced myself for a long tongue-lashing about "getting right with Jesus." After all, that's really at the heart of my fucking problem.

Surprisingly, she didn't say much on the way home. She pulled into the driveway and I saw Dad dicking around in the garage.

"How's Dad doing?" I asked.

"Irritable."

"How so?"

"Well, now that you're living here. He's gonna masturbate a lot less."

"Oh... Mom! I did not need to know that!"

"Just saying."

And so, I got my shit from the backseat, and followed Mom inside to pure awkwardness.

Took all of thirty-seven minutes of listening to mom singing "Sweet Hour of Prayer" beneath her breath, before I started to break. Bolted toward the garage, found my old bike behind Dad's fishing shit.

"Where ya going?" Dad asked.

I opened the garage door.

"To talk to Jesus." But that was all bull shit.

The nearest liquor store was block and half away and I rode my bike like it meant something.

Pulled my bike around the side of the liquor store. Started fucking with the lock and chain, as if someone was going to steal my piece-of-shit Huffy racer.

The lock clicked closed and there was something weird about the sound of it. Like it echoed really loud. Seemed to carry down the hill behind the liquor store. And there was this moment where I was like "fuck, that's weird". I looked back and that's when I saw him. A giant grey penis with arms crawling over the curb.

And I even said it aloud, "what the fuck is that? A penis with arms?"

And then something happened I never would have expected even within the deepest throes of alcoholism. He sat up looked at me and called out in a crisp British accent. "No, mate. I'm a fuckin' alien."

"Fuck you!" I said. "Show me your papers." Like I actually expected him to have some goddamned card that said he's an alien.

"Don't have 'em, mate."

"You're not an alien...Prove it."

"Well, alright."

And then all at once my balls started to feel like they were being squeezed by an invisible hand. Stooped over at first. Then on my knees. Cupping my junk while pain throbbed through my stomach. I heaved and a little speck of vomit rose to my mouth. "Awwww...."

"See, mate. I'm squeezing your bollocks with my mind."

I wheezed, "stop."

And as soon as I did, the pain went away.

"See, mate. That's some serious alien shit right there."

"Well, what the fuck are you doing here?" I asked.

He shuffled closer, "I need your help."

"My help? With what?"

"Saving the planet. "

And that's when I lost my shit. "Sweet Jesus! We're fucked!"

"My research points to yes."

After an hour, I started thinking no one would come for me and how I couldn't really blame them. >>> I would remove 'for me'. It's first person, you don't have to say who they won't come for. We and you know.

During my many bouts with the bottle, I managed tohow so shit on pretty much everyone in my life. >>>> remove 'my'—same reason ^^^


I picked up my shit and followed her to the car.>>> you just used 'shit' —the mom said it last sentence. Find another word.

"How so?">>> I find this unnecessary. You are living in his house and just got out of rehab. We know why he's irritable. And if it's not for the reasons we think you'll have to let us know—maybe a flashback or aside.

"Oh... Mom! I did not need to know that!">>> cliche and too much. Maybe just: "mom!"

"Just saying.">>> I'm sure there are moms of man-babies who say this, but unless you've already defined her as a woman who talks like a teen, I wouldn't leave this.

Pulled my bike around the side of the liquor store.>>> you already said he was going to the liquor store. So maybe: Pulled my bike around the side. Then you could add an 'and' and make the rest of this para one sentence.


It's still funny. I hope it becomes a good story.



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[Pete]

Love the realistic and gruff narrative voice throughout. I've always appreciated stories where the narrator is a character, and doesn't lose that sense.

[Beesauce]

Law law law

That's my new type of laughter.

Thanks SpShane.

Another fantastic piece.

You'll be famous soon

[Beesauce]

Further.

I'm sure it was the Grey that had to have a British accent. Fun. Your. Work.

[Luciaphile]

I read it. I laughed. I'm waiting for more. I sure hope he can save the world.