After The Pandemic - Smith: The End of the World (9) …Smith is nearly done… …only one chapter left after this… (866 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: After_the_Pandemic Smith
Rating: 1.97 on 34 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2005-08-25 19:24:57 EDT
Related Tales...
ATP - Intro http://www.ubersite.com/m/61238
ATP - Background
-Corrigan http://www.ubersite.com/m/61296
-Variant C http://www.ubersite.com/m/61350
ATP - Smith tales
-Archangels 1 http://www.ubersite.com/m/61513
-Archangels 2 http://www.ubersite.com/m/61755
-Archangels 3 http://www.ubersite.com/m/61985
-Archangels 4 http://www.ubersite.com/m/62289
-Archangels 5 http://www.ubersite.com/m/62570
-Smith in D.C. http://www.ubersite.com/m/64167
-Smith at Sea http://www.ubersite.com/m/64857
-Smith: The End of the World (1) http://www.ubersite.com/m/66658
-Smith: The End of the World (2) http://www.ubersite.com/m/68176
-Smith: The End of the World (3) http://www.ubersite.com/m/69626
-Smith: The End of the World (4) http://www.ubersite.com/m/69714
-Smith: The End of the World (5) http://www.ubersite.com/m/69802
-Smith: The End of the World (6) http://www.ubersite.com/m/71864
-Smith: The End of the World (7) http://www.ubersite.com/m/72036
-Smith: The End of the World (8) http://www.ubersite.com/m/73371
=(9)=
For those surviving humans who still understood the concept of Greenwich Mean Time, the sun would be rising over most of the Britains between 5:30 and 6:00 am. If the resistance had their way, more than one man-made sun would appear hours earlier.
The survivor resistance, had spent almost a year preparing for this long day, and the night that would sweep over the world.
The East was wasteland and wilderness. A generation ago nukes had been set off in many cities across the Chinas, the Indias, the lands of the Rus. What remained of the Orient was a living nightmare.
Japan was the new Atlantis. A once-great country now submerged by earthquake, flood, and self-destruction to preserve the honor of that land.
The once bustling seaports of China were now radioactive hells crawling with brutish, inhuman vermin. Inland, Chinese peasants struggled to grow rice and bear children, but that race was slowly dying out. Too many men were infertile, too many women gave birth to monsters.
The Indian sub-continent, and the surrounding lands of Pakistan and Bangladesh and regions as far East as Burma, Thailand and Vietnam were now the world's biggest graveyards, nuked to a slow burning nothingness by many world powers when muncher outbreaks among high density populations threatened to spread to the north.
Little was know of Africa. Most of the continent had fallen silent long ago. Ships passing the coasts of South Africa and Senegal, Libya and Somalia, reported great fires, arid wastes, and massive mutations of unknown origin that roamed the shorelines and bellowed in blind rage.
Missiles launched from America in the early years of the Pandemic had long ago destroyed every large city in Russia. Life still went on upon the Russian and Mongolian Steppes in the form of migratory bands of hardy survivors who fled diseased escapees from farms and zoos. Herds of elk, sheep, pigs and cattle, leeches all. Ever-hungry bears. Predatory wolf packs. Swift and deadly wild horses. Humanity had lost its beasts of burden. These nomadic peoples lived on an abundance of natural grains and found further sustenance in bird eggs and a great variety of rodents which overran those lands. They rarely ate the birds themselves, using them instead for communications and warning systems. Every encampment had specially-bred pheasants which were attuned to the presence of leeches in any form and would cause a commotion in their cages the moment a threat was sensed. These wanderers shared the land with cats big and small and many worshipped tigers, which were no longer on the brink of extinction. These poorly educated tribal peoples who migrated with the seasons, carried animal skin tents on their backs and lived much as the Indians of the Americas had centuries ago, were now some of the hardiest and healthiest people on earth.
The countries of the Middle East had eradicated each other in a paranoid frenzy of bombardment. A few thousand Jews had abandoned Israel very early in the Pandemic, and they were now the only living beings who carried the recent memory of those ancient lands. The Jews used gold and precious stones to buy their way into the Australian outback before that nation and New Zealand declared martial law and sealed their borders, and that people lived there still.
The two countries affected least by the Pandemic were Australia and New Zealand. Their governments had acted quickly and wisely before the Pandemic could gain a foothold. Since then a manic nationalism had taken over, resulting in the rise and fall of many dictators. Currently the only truly free lands in that part of the world were New Zealand North, Tasmania, and the Alice Springs Republic.
The leeches of South and Central America were kings, most of them content with their lands and less interested in expansion and war than maintaining an iron grip of what was theirs.
Only in North America and Europa did surviving humans still plot against leeches and make war.
Members of the resistance movement calling itself the Light Brigade had crossed the Atlantic more than once in sailing ships, carrying messages and plans and parts for bombs. Fusion bombs. Sun bombs.
As the world turned on its axis and timepieces indicated 2:00 am, sun-bombs would be launched over the skies of a dozen Leech population centers in the Britains and mainland Europa; London, Liverpool, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Dublin, Belfast. Paris. Rome. Madrid. Munich. Amsterdam. Copenhagen.
In the Americas the night would light up over thirty cities including Miami, Philadelphia, New York, and Boston. Montreal, Ottawa, Toronto. Denver, Calgary. Los Angeles, Seattle, Vancouver.
The sun bombs would not kill every leech. In some areas only a few leeches might die. In some cities they would die by the thousands. Many hundreds of thousands of Leeches would be terribly sickened and weakened by the light. It was up to the resistance to draw leeches into the open, out into the night, at the appointed hour.
The sun bombs were not only a first strike. They were also a signal to every survivor, whether they were part of a resistance movement or a well-fed slave.
The time is now. The enemy is here. The fight is yours.
Of course, things did not always go according to plan...
*
In the space of one day, Smith had to learn everything it was to be alive. He was too weak to speak more than a few words. Too weak to walk. Too weak to chew solid food.
In the dark dungeon, Trina massaged his limbs, bringing them back to tingling life. Her voice sounded in his mind, reassuring him so he didn't have to speak. He shit and pissed himself, and was unable to express his utter mortification. Trina just smiled and eased off his clothes, cleaning him and sending him another message, a picture of the mind - Smith looking somehow alien, the smile on his face a rarity, an almost goofy grin, Trina so pregnant she looked like a soap bubble about to pop.
Trina leaned over him when he was hungry, touched him, lips to lips, dribbling liquid into his open mouth.
In a moment of lucidity Smith thought he might as well be fed like a baby bird. He sure as hell felt as weak and defenseless as one.
He was aware of commotion from time to time. Shouts in the corridor. Far away rumbles and jolts felt through the stone walls and floor. Faces peering through the small window in the heavy door, unable to see Smith since Trina had moved him into the dark shadows of a far corner.
Smith slept, an hour at a time. Some sense of urgency invariably roused him before he could sleep too long.
Each time he awoke Trina pushed him a little more. Making him sit up. Letting him rest. Making him stand. Letting him rest. Making him walk a few steps. Letting him rest. Each time he woke up he felt more and more energy coursing through him. This wasn't like his usual healing. This was accelerated, manic, frightening, exhilarating.
When that final hazy sleep and wake cycle came to an end, Smith was suddenly all there. His body was stiff, aching in places. But he was alert, Hungry. Ready for action. And something... something was going to happen.
Trina lit a match, and held it to the wick of a candle. As the light flared and filled the cell Smith suddenly remembered everything. The bomb. The timer.
"How long have I been recovering?" he asked.
"Almost a day," Trina replied. "From the sound of it, I think the castle is under siege. Your friends?"
"Your countrymen. We have to get out of here. Now."
They heard a brief struggle and a harsh grunt on the other side of the cell door.
A rough voice spoke from the window in the door.
"Deliverance is at hand, Mr. Smith."
Jim Stewart was on the other side of the door.
Trina gasped when she saw the ruins of the older man's face.
"How do you like them apples?" Trina looked confused by his bizarre statement, and Smith couldn't help but laugh. "I came to rescue you," he said to Trina. "Now it looks like he has come to rescue me."
A heavy key turned in an old lock and the door swung wide.
"That's not entirely accurate," Stewart said. "Your liberation is an afterthought. We weren't looking for you when we found you."
Smith shook his head. "I don't understand... what are you doing down here?"
Stewart looked sheepish. "Well, we've managed to drive or lead most of the leeches outside the castle, and barricade the entrances to most towers and rooms. They are outside. Exposed. And we... we can't seem to find the sun bomb. The bomb that we have learned you carried over the wall."
"Oh," Smith said.
"The bomb has to be left in a place that is open to the sky. Why, I don't know. But if it is locked away somewhere it won't function properly. And men will have died today, my son Alan will have died, for nothing."
*
Daric was barricaded in his rooms, in a tower in the Palace. The door to the tower was well-hidden, but it would be found in time. The Barracks, the Great Hall next door, and most of the castle had been overrun with filthy Scots. When Daric looked out his windows onto the grounds within the walls and down onto the Esplanade beyond the gatehouse, he saw his own people restrained or milling about, some of them soldiers who tried to take action, most of them pampered nobles who waited to be told what they should do next. All were held in place by old stone walls and new metal fences.
He had a dozen of his best soldiers with him. Warriors. They would protect him to the end. One of his group leaders came down the stairs from the turret, a broad-shouldered man in a Kevlar vest.
"A thought, my Lord."
Daric looked into the fire and tried to remember the man's name. Talent? Teeth?
"I suggest one of us take advantage of an invulnerability the human rubbish does not possess."
"Go on," Daric said, trying not to wince when a wavering cry rose up from below, a cry followed by bursts of harsh laughter.
The soldier pointed to the turret. "One of us can climb to the other side of this structure. From there he can jump to the roof of the Great Hall. And from the Great Hall, he can jump to the ground."
Another soldier sounded incredulous. "The ground? Are you mad? Taleth, the Palace is atop a sheer cliff, mate. The ground is hundreds of feet below us."
Taleth agreed. He was gruff, but well-spoken. "Yes. And we are hemophagists. Homo nocturnus. We are a superior species, and we will not be put off by a fear of heights or a few dozen broken bones. The fall can be survived, and reinforcements can be summoned."
Daric put a hand on Taleth's shoulder. "If only I had a hundred of you, I would own this island. Who will make the jump?"
Taleth looked about the room and spotted two of Daric's valued and not-quite-true Variant C's now under his command. They were two of many riders Daric ordered sent out on reconnaissance from time to time. They were also unclean, and their pride in their limited abilities made them take unnecessary risks in battle. They were expendable.
"One of them. Spencer. Or Marks."
The men reacted with complete surprise.
"Jaizuz!"
"Fook me!"
"Silence!" Taleth stepped forward and reached out, grabbing one man by the face and shoving him toward the stairs. "You will accept this duty and serve your Lord or I will rip off your jaw and throw it in the fire. Understood?"
Marks, the man who had not been chosen, flattened himself against the wall.
Taleth gave his 'volunteer' another shove.
"Master Taleth," Spencer pleaded, his hands clasped in front of him, "Please let me sorve you in some other less fookin' deadly way. Oy swear I'll be true to you sor."
Taleth glanced at Daric, who made a shooing motion.
Taleth dragged the man up the stairs and onto the open turret. "As your Master I will decide how you will serve me. And I have decided you will serve me best by acting both as message, and bottle."
"Come again?"
Taleth leaped up onto the top of the turret, taking Spencer with him.
*
Smith took a deep breath of crisp night air when he and Trina and Stewart stepped out onto the cobbles of the courtyard.
Scots were everywhere, bloodied and bedraggled. They were also filled with enthusiasm and a bloodlust that was a welcome turnabout.
Leeches were restrained in pairs and large groups, bound by ropes, chains, some in cages.
Smith could hear cries for help. He crossed the cobbles to a wall and looked down into the courtyard. Hundreds of leeches were down there, inside the arena, inside the fences, surrounded by Scots. He and big Andrew Stewart made eye contact and Andrew raised a fist in salute, grinning despite his adornment of bloody bandages.
Smith looked up at the moon, and movement caught his eye. He looked around to see what kind of weaponry was available.
"That man with the device on his shoulder," he said to Stewart. "He just might have a job to do."
Smith ran for the Palace, and the tower.
*
Taleth got a firm grip on Spencer and jumped down onto the roof of the Great Hall.
"I don't want this, Sor," Spencer said. "I'm a slow healer."
"Stop your whining," Taleth snapped, dragged the man to the edge of the roof. He looked down and felt a little flip-flop in his stomach. It really was a long drop.
He grabbed Spencer by the scruff of the neck and the seat of the pants. "When you reach the ground, get reinforcements. Run, walk, crawl, whatever. Just do it."
Taleth gave Spenser a mighty throw. After all, there were a lot of rocks the man had to clear and one impact was better than six or seven.
He heard Spenser screaming, heard a Scot below holler ("Now!"), and heard a rushing, contained roar as a white column of vapor lanced down at Spenser.
*
The Scots standing along the wall cheered and slapped one of their own on the back, a man who had retrieved a rocket launcher from a leech, and on Stewart's orders had fired at the falling figure.
*
Taleth's man was blown to bits. "Bugger me," Taleth said, watching twitching chunks of Spencer strike the ground far below.
*
Smith pushed by a loose group of Scots who were tearing the Palace apart looking for the hidden door to the tower. He stepped into an empty, narrow corridor and stopped, wondered what the hell his next move should be.
Trina tapped his shoulder, stepped by him and said, "Follow me."
Smith called the same to the Scots behind him.
Trina led them to a winding circular staircase hidden by a column. They went up and into another short hall. At the end of the hall a man was slipping through a stout door, looking cautiously behind him.
"I know him," Smith said.
The man was one of the Variant C's who had captured Smith just after he had crossed the great false wall. He grimaced when he saw Smith coming, and he went back through the door.
Before the solid oak door could be bolted Smith got one boot between door and jamb. He told Trina to stay out of the way and burst into the chamber beyond with five Scots on his tail.
The man he had seen before was huddled against a wall. Daric was standing on the steps at the entrance to the turret, the night sky behind him, his face frozen in a nearly prissy expression of surprise.
Ten leeches armed with swords drew their weapons and attacked the human intruders.
Smith had no weapons He reached for the man he had recognized, Marks, and used him as a shield. A sword blade erupted from the Variant C's shoulder and Smith dodged it.
Marks yelled, "Shite!"
Smith saw another leech drive a sword into his shield's chest. The sword didn't pierce the body, and Smith heard a curious thud.
Daric was still standing by the stairs. He had recovered his composure, and he began to laugh.
Smith spun Marks around, yanked the sword from his shoulder, spun him again, and ripped the coat off of the man's back. A leather satchel was strapped to his body.
"You will not defeat me," Daric said, his voice a taunting lilt.
A leech stepped close, a knife in each hand gleaming orange in the firelight. Smith ducked and swung. A hand hit the floor. The tip of the other knife nicked Smith's lips and chin and he tasted his own blood. The energy coursing through him was fierce. He brought his sword down hard on the side of the leech's neck, splitting the attacker from collarbone to diaphragm.
Two Scots were dead on the floor. Three leeches were staggering about with horrible wounds.
As the fight continued around him Smith tore the satchel from Marks and opened it.
Marks was furious. "My treasure!"
"You are not the one who will see me dead," Daric said. "My seers told me my end would come from a man with only one eye!"
Inside the satchel was the flat and heavy metal box. Smith touched the panel on one burnished side and the counter appeared.
00:01:13
"Nuts," Smith said.
A leech reared up in front of him and raised a sword.
Smith feinted with his own blade, fumbling with the smooth metal case.
Trina seemed to fly over his shoulder and knock the leech on his back, crouching over him and biting into his neck. She shook her head like a cat with a mouse and tore away a sizable bit of flesh and muscle. She drank as the leech quickly bled out. She looked over at Smith, wiped the blood away from her mouth, and let out a tiny, very feminine burp.
Smith tucked the case under one arm and began fighting across the room to Daric.
There were shouts from the hall and more dirty, long-haired Scots burst into the room, attacking the remaining leeches without hesitation.
Smith reached for Daric and Daric did the unexpected, pulling Smith close and knocking the sword out of his grip. They struggled up the stairs to the turret, Smith hoping to throw Daric over the side, Daric wondering what was taking Taleth so long to return.
A dagger poked Smith's ribs like a brock's claw.
Smith was trying to gouge Daric's eyes out as the dagger continued to jab at him. At the edge of the turret Smith dropped the metal case and it landed counter up. The counter on the side glowed in the night.
00:00:07
Daric stepped away, and Smith grabbed one arm.
A large panel opened in the case and a series of folded struts began rising up out of the interior.
00:00:04
A silvery projectile looking much like a long rifle bullet slid to the top of the struts. A spark of white-hot flame appeared at the bottom of the projectile.
Taleth leaped down from the roof of the parapet after having climbed the wall of the Palace. He leaned low as he inspected the metal case and chuckled.
00:00:01
"New toy?" Taleth reached for the slivery projectile.
The projectile was launched from the struts like a miniscule rocket, without a sound. It passed through Taleth's skull, leaving a great, smoking hole, and rose into the night, a pinpoint of light.
Daric watched the missile. Rising, rising. He breathed a sigh of relief. Wherever that thing was going to land, he was clear of it. He glanced into his chambers. No help there. His soldiers were dead, one or two unwashed Scots still standing. He used his greater strength to push Smith away from him, and reached out to pull himself up onto the roof of the turret and take Taleth's suggested route out of here. Letting shattered limbs heal while huddling under a shrub below was preferable to death up here. He would live to fight another day.
There was the most faint of sounds, a distant pop.
Smith stepped toward the cover of the room inside the turret and said, "Hey. Asshole, look at this."
Daric could not help but look in the direction Smith indicated with one raised hand.
Night became day.
Smith knew better. He really did. But he had to be sure. As he moved into the safe shadows inside tower, he looked over his shoulder and put a hand over one eye. He had to know.
The sky was as white and hot as molten metal.
Smith saw Daric thrashing, leech skin darkening, mottling.
Daric released a keening wail.
Smith felt his eye begin to burn.
User Reviews
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2008-06-29 17:23:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-10-20 13:01:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
you fucking loser Rad, get a life.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-10-19 04:17:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
There are a solid four pages of +2 streaks with 30 or more reviews. That is stupid. I am weeding it all out by giving every one of them a +1; that way posts that have 1.99 with 200+ reviews gets best ever.
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-10-07 19:42:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
nothing like a nuke to brighten up your day!
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-26 18:04:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Yeah, it's Smith.
Taleth has a considerably larger hole in his head.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-26 16:59:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
'one-eyed man'...
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-26 16:59:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"You are not the one who will see me dead," Daric said. "My seers told me my end would come from a man with only one eye!"
...
The projectile was launched from the struts like a miniscule rocket, without a sound. It passed through Taleth's skull, leaving a great, smoking hole, and rose into the night, a pinpoint of light.
...
Smith felt his eye begin to burn.
--------------
So, Smith was the one-man, yes? Cos it could go either way???
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-26 12:21:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-08-26 11:38:11 (#)
Ranking: 2
Try the Literary Agent route for publishing. Just look out for
places like Authorhouse, which is a Vanity Press in disguise.
Don't give up, you're too good.
--
Yeah, I've played that game.
Catch 22: Can't get a good agent unless you are published... can't get published without a good agent. I keep working on it though. I did cave and get my first novel out of my head the 'pay' way. It's some pretty weird shit. Not surprised thre were no takers. I used Xlibris because they were relatively cheap back then. I wanted to move on to other stories and after pumping out 450+ pages on these characters I really needed to set them aside for a while.
I don't consider them a vanity press, although most people probably would. The books are listed on Amazon, etc., but it is a legitimate novel you get through print on demand and not some hack piece of shit (don't say it!). The bitch is you have to do most of the marketing yourself, which I am terrible at. The good thing is I still retain all the rights, and since this book is the middle book in a series I'm working on (start on the eve of the millenium for #1, jump back in time to the 50's/60's for #2, jump ahead to now for #3, yeah, that makes sense...), that is important.
The next thing I'm gonna try selling is a children's novel. No shit. Wrote the first story, a pitiful 100 pages or so padded with illustrations, now working on the second, figuring there will be at least two trilogies about four siblings. No sex, violence or profanity, but there's still a lot of weird shit in there. I like weird shit. Kids like weird shit. Maybe I'll get lucky.
Submitted by hcp28 (user info) at 2005-08-26 12:18:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was awesome, I think it would be snatched up as a short story series by the right publisher. All you have to do is polish it up a little and it would be ready to go.
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2005-08-26 12:03:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
still 1,000 kinds of kickass.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-08-26 11:38:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Try the Literary Agent route for publishing. Just look out for
places like Authorhouse, which is a Vanity Press in disguise.
Don't give up, you're too good.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-26 11:16:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-08-26 09:35:44 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-26 07:00:02 (#)
Ranking: 0
For anyone who is interested I'll be posting another Pandemic-style story-starter that everyone can take part in pretty soon. Next week, most likely.
Did I just hear Thecaes groan?
************************
YES
--
AHAHAHAHA!
Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2005-08-26 09:50:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-08-26 09:35:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-26 07:00:02 (#)
Ranking: 0
For anyone who is interested I'll be posting another Pandemic-style story-starter that everyone can take part in pretty soon. Next week, most likely.
Did I just hear Thecaes groan?
************************
YES
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-08-26 07:03:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good, because I really hated zombies, and could barely read ANY of these.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-26 07:00:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
For anyone who is interested I'll be posting another Pandemic-style story-starter that everyone can take part in pretty soon. Next week, most likely.
Did I just hear Thecaes groan?
The subject matter: A very big, very strange hole.
Submitted by shitfuck (user info) at 2005-08-25 23:58:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Do you sell insurance or what?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-25 23:54:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm also surprised how much I've come to like Smith. I've tried to kill him off twice, but the bastard keeps surviving in rewrites.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-25 23:53:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
BTW, I'm glad you guys liked the world-view here.
I usually like concentrating on just a few key characters. Less distraction for me, and the reader. But occasionally it is damn fun to fuck with the world at large.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-25 23:48:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2005-08-25 23:27:51 (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked the world wide update, very cool. You wrote this at work?
What do you do for a crust anyway?
--
Fuck all apparently, considering how much writing I do at work...
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2005-08-25 23:27:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked the world wide update, very cool. You wrote this at work?
What do you do for a crust anyway?
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-08-25 22:22:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
you complete me.
this was amazing.
anxious to read the conclusion.
Submitted by badassmofo (user info) at 2005-08-25 22:21:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Only ATP post I've ever read...not that I am ignorant I just come into it late and hadn't the proper time to catch up.
That said, hot damn Jack...whatever you are doing...if its not writing...your wasting time...
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-08-25 21:57:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice. A little loose, but for something you wrote at work, it was stunning. Plus, your style tends to be kind of loose anyway, which I'm actually a little envious of. I liked your description of the state of the world at the beginning of the post.
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2005-08-25 21:49:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-25 21:05:56 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-08-25 20:16:47 (#)
Ranking: 2
My God!! I read this and about four or five of the previous ones.
I am impressed! I intend to read all of them very soon.
Jack, get this to a publisher as soon as possible. You may be able
to retire from the sales. You have a unique writing talent that must
be sent to the world. Good luck.
--
The world has said 'no' more than a few times. I'll keep plugging away, though.
----------------
Dude I have read way, way worse books. This shit is good.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-08-25 21:37:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
sweet baby jebus that's good.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-08-25 21:10:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sweet!
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-25 21:05:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-08-25 20:16:47 (#)
Ranking: 2
My God!! I read this and about four or five of the previous ones.
I am impressed! I intend to read all of them very soon.
Jack, get this to a publisher as soon as possible. You may be able
to retire from the sales. You have a unique writing talent that must
be sent to the world. Good luck.
--
The world has said 'no' more than a few times. I'll keep plugging away, though.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-08-25 20:34:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'll read these one day. And finish Necrosiac. And Axolotl's freaky thing. And Brdn_Nkd's Survivor thing.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2005-08-25 20:16:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My God!! I read this and about four or five of the previous ones.
I am impressed! I intend to read all of them very soon.
Jack, get this to a publisher as soon as possible. You may be able
to retire from the sales. You have a unique writing talent that must
be sent to the world. Good luck.
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-08-25 20:01:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Still got to catch up on these.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-25 19:54:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Marks and Sparks, eh? *chuckle*
you wit, you....
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-25 19:27:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Another written at work. Hopefully it is typo-free. Enjoy!
Submitted by Quint (user info) at 2005-08-25 19:26:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Smith felt his eye begin to burn because he was going blind. He was going blind because he didn't listen to his mother and he masturbated too much.
(That's how I would have ended it)