Ruined (613 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Mike the Scottish (View user info) at 2005-07-18 18:37:30 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
Dave pulled a bottle of beer out the fridge and, with a deft flick of his penknife, removed the top, and started drinking. Sinking back into the couch, he sighed, looking over at X, his flatmate, who was also sighing, albeit in a frustrated manner. Dave smiled:
"Hey, X? Whatcha doing?"
"Writing."
"I can see that, prick. Whatcha writing about?"
"Dunno."
"Well ain't you mr. talkative. How can ya not know?"
"I haven't decided. I've got four days to write a short piece of writing with the title 'ruined'. I've started a few ideas, but haven't decided which direction to go yet."
Dave shook his head in the manner of a scolding parent.
"Well, lemme looksee. I'll decide which would be best for ya."
X smiled- unusual for Dave to be so attentive. Nonetheless, he slid a piece of paper across the coffee table, murmering at Dave:
"First idea; a post apocalyptic scenario, involving a construction worker attempting to kidnap an actress and drive her to safety in Las Vegas."
Dave looked perplexed, but picked up the gauntlet regardless. In a long stretch of his arm, he laid down his beer and started reading.
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Jake Schlesinger was having a bad day.
He wasn't quite sure where he was, but barrelled through the flat, desert surroundings like a man possessed. Small desert towns, reeking of frontier spirit, flew past the sides of the Mercedes- gluing themselves to his eyes in short, sharp bursts. Jake swung the car over the other side of the road, lurching deliriously from one image to the other, drinking in every image that momentarily pressed itself into his eyes. One marked itself out. A faded road sign, simple and vivid in the choking desert air.
LAS VEGAS 48 MILES
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"So far so good... not sure about the protagonist's name though."
"Aye well, top of my head kinda deal, was gonna change it eventually."
"Fair play then, mate."
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Pulling the car back into the right lane, he leaned back, shouting to make himself heard above the roar of the engine.
"Sara! We ain't got long until Las Vegas! We're gonna find someone there who can patch you up, yessiree! Where else would a man- begging yer pardon, a woman- want to go to get help? Not Los Angeles, I tell ya that for nothing."
Sara burbled gently, feverishly clawing at the leather of the back seat. Jake wasn't too fussed about the upholstery, but it upset him to see her like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, oh no. She was meant to be upright and pretty, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. He was meant to be the knight in shining armour, the hero crashing through the studio parking lot to save his damsel in distress. An Academy-Award winning damsel, at that.
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"Yeah, it's not bad, but you're being too obvious. I mean, it could be a great alternative-yet-poignant form of comedy, but it's all a bit too blunt, isn't it?
"I was gonna..."
"Hush now, X old boy. Good characters, good premise, flawed but promising execution. I just got me one question."
"And that is?
"What in God's name does this have to with 'ruined'?"
"Umm... because the world is kinda ruined... fuck it- I had this idea for a story, and I wanted to fit it into the title."
"It doesn't work. Maybe if you were using 'The Journey' or something, but one-word titles lend themselves to melodrama- shame, really. What else ya got?
Another piece fluttered over the table towards Dave. X looked hopeful, as if seeking approval rather than an evaluation. Dave laughed briefly:
"You take this shit far too seriously."
"Fuck you, Dave. You're drinking my beer, remember."
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Wrecked. Destroyed. Gone.
My friend Jason used to say that the only adjective you couldn't use to describe the state of inebraitiation was 'sobered'. I disagreed- in addition to pre-existing words such as 'accrued' and 'denounced', I argued that 'ruined' also seemed inapplicable to most states of inebriation; certainly to the level that one would be able to have an argument concerning linguistics. Of course, with leaving school came the chance for new experiences and new discoveries- foremost amongst which was the inescapable fact that, if drunk enough, one could indeed be 'ruined'. And thus begins another college story.
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"Ahh, melodramatic drinking stories, that's better. Good working of the title, I guess. But, X, mate..."
"Aye?"
"There's no story following the- admittedly good- introduction."
"Yeah... well, umm... I was waiting for inspiration about that, really."
"You mean you're building up to nothing?"
"Well, it wasn't gonna be nothing, Dave. I was thinking something sobering but poignant."
"Been done, mate. Best avoid those type of things, people don't tend to be too receptive to intensely personal stuff. Especially made up personal stuff."
"Alright, alright. I got this other idea, though. Bit artsy, thought it might appeal to the literature types out there."
Dave groaned.
"I don't think I want to know. But carry on, I'll give it a shot."
"Well, I was reading Robert Browning's 'My Last Duchess', and was thinking that maybe I could insinuate that the Duke's casual attitude towards violence was the result of a twisted love triangle going on between the painter of the portrait and the Duchess- but get this, the painter's actually a chick. I'm thinking pseudo-intelligent appreciation, plus bonus points for rampant lesbianism."
"Cool. But, from what I can remember from school, isn't the painter a dude?"
"It uses gender-neutral pronouns, I checked. I mean, historical soft porn is all the rage. Could be a winner."
"Could be... but mate, you're doing the whole 'fitting a title onto a story' thing again! Aside from the fact that this sapphic romance is ultimately doomed, 'ruined' is never going to fit in, is it?"
"Aye, well, I was hoping the tragedy would be ruination enough in itself to justify the title."
"Careful now, you're teetering very close to spouting pretentious bollocks."
"I know, Dave- it's just hard to write with the title as the nucleus, within a limited timespan."
"No other ideas?"
"None. I'm gonna have to try to make something out of these vague ideas. I was thinking that..."
*Thunk*
X followed the sound to the table, where he saw Dave's beer bottle lying horizontal on the table, the contents smeared equally on X's manuscripts and the new laminate flooring.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Get a dishcloth, Dave, quick."
Dave tried his best, using his jumper to get the worst of it off the table- in the end, though, there was little Dave could do but look sincerely apologetic as he picked the bottle up. Stuck to the bottom, and smudged by spilt beer, was what was once a bundle of A4 paper, filled with writing.
"X, I'm so fuckin' sorry. I really am."
"I was more worried about the floor to be honest. Couldn't have used any of those for the story anyway."
Dave sank back into the couch, relieved but still red with embarrassment:
"Thank Christ... but X, mate- what you gonna write about now?"
"Haven't a fucking clue, mate. Haven't a fucking clue."
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Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2005-10-29 10:02:05 EDT (#)
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