The Girl, The Grail, The End (Part One of Three) (2331 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.85 on 74 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Isaac Bickerstaff (View user info) at 2006-09-04 11:05:52 EDT
The Girl
I wish I knew more stories, man, more myths, but I don't. And where this one takes me, that's it: my story, my fable; the sound and fury of my nothing, signified. If I knew another story I would tell it, brothers, I would live it; I would become the hero of that story and maybe this one wouldn't end this way. But come on, man. Do you think if I knew any other stories, I would put myself through this one?
The Girl dug the end long before I did, thirsted for it with brittle black fingers and blue veined gasps; but let's be honest, right now, the last thing I'm thinking about, is the Girl.
My therapist says that the first truth of heroism is dying young. That's the easy part he says, the dying part; and once again I'm way ahead of him.
Cause you want to know the hard part, bitches? Like you need me to tell you, but I will. You want to know the hard part of heroism?
Living.
And even though he keeps promising me that it gets easier, I stopped believing his particular species of slander long ago, long before the chemo ran out, long before her skin cracked open in crusty glaciers of runny agony. My faith in happy endings had dissolved like the poison on Hamlet's pearl by the time Maldanado's people called with the offer and HBO sent a messenger with papers to sign that once upon a time she would have read.
Were those papers a pill, I would have swallowed it.
All that ink, man, that legal scribble; twisting on the page in wild and savage glee like black dancers at a warrior's funeral, invoking the Curse, the Black Earth Curse that keeps missing its mark, ruining everything around me like a blind gunman with too many bullets. "Tell him," I said as I handed the signed contract back to the Messenger; his forehead sweating, as if even being in the same room with me was gonna ruin his aspiration to someday achieving the corner office. Cause can I be fucking frank here for a second, man, when I tell you that we don't control this shit, right? We don't actually make these decisions any more than Oliver Twist or Jake LaMada; we don't tell these stories, these stories tell us.
"Tell him what?" the Messenger asked, scared now, backing toward the door, leaving wet footprints of ambition on the linoleum. I looked at him for a long time; the apartment seems so quiet now, so desolate, I almost didn't want him to leave, but c'mon, at some point the last chapter starts whether you want it to or not.
"Tell him I'm coming."
Now don't look so surprised and heartsick, my children; this story was over long ago. It's like reading Moveable Feast, you know how it has to end, but you've gotta put yourself through every last page to get there, like it or not.
Maldanado, man, he'll learn soon enough; I know the synopsis of his life as well as I know "The Lady or the Tiger," and it's always the Tiger, kid, trust me on this one. He'll soak up the crowd like the rays from his tanning bed, letting it polish him to shiny smoothness. His head will twitch skittishly back and forth; he'll dance and primp and stare jagged spurs: Maldanado and me, two snapshots of the same dumb fuck, at different chapters of the same damn story, the only story we know.
Eight months ago the specialist had strode into the office, the white wings of his coat trailing boldly behind him. He'd be our hero, our champion: "We're going to fight this thing," he had said with all the idolic conviction of Gabriel at the Gate: his flaming gold scalpel ready to slice the rank poison from the Girl's white belly, kind hands poised to bestow a healing grace upon us both.
And through my resentment I had found comfort in his zealous mania: a fiery sanctuary in a storm of icy thorns. It should be me saving her, I had thought, my kiss should waken her from this sleepy spell. But the girl wasn't fooled, kid, not for a second; and even though she went dutifully to her treatment and bathed in her poison, in this version the princess doesn't make it; and she always knew.
Now I've never fought for cameras before and somehow they make everything different, more lurid and ethically vague; hovering like fussy nuns at a cowboy cook-off. And it's not just us up in here that act differently, kid, and that's the damn truth, it's the whole place: the crowd shrieks louder, the lights glare hotter, JD's bling a fair clamor of faceted screams.
Taro the Hunchback had performed the ritual with meticulous precision, wrapping my meat hooks into mummified blocks of icy venom, his packed suitcases sitting ominously by the door.
"Why do you have to fly home tonight?" JD had asked him. "You're gonna miss our victory cocktail..."
But Taro's brain was somewhere else, and as I had turned to head out into the stadium, his old iron grip stopped me and turned me to face him. Pausing just long enough to put his gnarled and calloused palms together in a child's approximation of prayer, Taro had bent dramatically at the waist, and lowered his eyes to the floor; a long and low bow that had unnerved me all the way down to the dry rot of my guts, freezing me in frightened inference. I left him there like that: bent over, eyes averted, the ancient symbol of respect he had never given me before, now offered so blithely.
The talk goes on forever, man, the announcer's rumbling introductions, and there he is in his corner, Chisai Maldanado, seething impotent fury, trembling in his eagerness to get his mitts on me, slamming his fists together like a pin-striped villain in a mafia pic. And if I look really hard I can see the Deca roiling through him, furious green molecules that turn the network of his veins into bubbling chords; arrogant ropes on the loom of the fates, patiently waiting to be carelessly snipped.
JD shakes me. "Quit that shit, Twink, I can hear your brainpan sizzling all the way out here." JD has never done fear very well; it rattles him, makes him glance sideways when he talks and rub his feet together. JD's fear has ruined a good number of very expensive shoes. "You're making Taro nervous."
What do you think Achilles looked like when the spear got him in the foot? Well I can fucking tell you, kid, because I've seen it, was there in the room when it happened and gospel now it wasn't all screams and chaos and shouting crowds and glaring lights, and it sure as fuck wasn't surprise. It was relief, man; same as Macbeth when he heard "untimely ripped," relief that the saga was over, the fighting was over, the fighting and hating and worry were over. Our doctor, our champion, caressed the hard lump behind the Girl's knee for hardly a second; after all those months of chemical venom and surgical desecrations, the resignation crawled over his face in only a second, a breath, a single hook to the liver, a blink. His hands dropped, and I saw his interest in us evaporate like a junkie beggar's when he learns you're out of cash.
And we all knew that we'd lost.
JD takes my hand, holds the leather with both of his soft grippers, "Look, man," he says, "we were all in love with her." JD's never cried a day in his life and that's the truth; but people who never cry are always right about to. "Now get in there, bitch, and bring me the other ear."
So straight up no one has ever accused Maldanado of being graceful, he aint really the lithe warrior-sage type, right? But he runs right at me with all the subtlety of loud talk in a quiet bar and I wish that I could spare him this chapter, maybe skip to the end, give him all the lessons and surprises without all the actual, you know, work.
I wish you could've met her, kid, you would have liked her, everybody liked her; everyone in the room, gathered in untimely sorrow for her wake (a word that always confused me, no one ever wakes at one of these things...) You'd think that this one time I would have felt like I belonged there, that I was justified in my presence at least this once; but you'd be wrong: it was no different than anytime I had hung with her friends, trying to follow the conversations of their downtown hipster groove with no more success than if I was trying to figure out the phone bill.
I remember one time at Hill House when her new secretary asked me how I got that scar on my face and the Girl held her breath and shot me that look, you know the look, the one that says, "Please don't tell that story..." and so I said I fell or something. And the Girl breathed out, and I felt a little less like me, and a little more like them: feigned, hollow; a glamrock artmonkey wearing my pretensions like baubles on a bracelet of silver-linked lies. So that's the secret, I had thought, just fucking lie more often...
Was there blame in their eyes? Did they all know deep down that I killed her, that the worry and uncertainty of this epic myth was too much for her butterfly bones? They act like I chose it, like I asked Zeus for this sword instead of having it dumped on my ass. What do you say to the Gods when their blessings are so torturous, when their gifts burn you and fill your bedroom with ghouls that tug at the loose skin of your grey matter? You say, "Thanks," man, that's what you fucking say.
He goes right for the grab, I knew he would; he feints high so I'll pop and shoots for a leg. You know that feeling you get when you've just come home and you still feel restless, like you wanna walk right back out the door again; like cagey and sick and frantic and scared? That's how Maldanado hits you, kid.
Like that feeling.
Like loneliness.
He actually gets a foot, wraps his clamps around my ankle. But I aint too proud to kick his hand a couple times and that pauses his sasquatch ass long enough for me to smack him in the bean and open up his lip. It's his only flaw, really, and I should know; he can't deal with the hurt. It aint like he's afraid to get hit or anything, he just hasn't learned to love it yet; to yearn for the sting of a mashed nose, to see better through watery eyes than you do clear. You can't just be sanguine with the shock of a cracked bell, my brothers, you gotta ache for it, pine for the clarity it gives you, the respite from the clamor of your relentless thoughts.
I was there to give her back, man, to gift her to the universe, an unfair trade and let's be honest. I touched her hand as gently as I could and sang softly in her ear, watching as the space between her breaths became longer, the flickering rhythm on her neck slower. And when it all was too much, when my song ran out and the plastic bag's drip drip drip was like the mercury tears of a clockwork man, she pulled her hand back, and spoke in soft pulses: her white lips fluttering in tight dusty wings, a dying moth beating its funeral song on the skin of an animal drum.
"Careful," she said, hardly more than a sigh.
"It hurts when you touch me."
It hurts when you touch me, brothers, that's what she said, that's what she said with the final breath from her toxified pipes: but c'mon, like I didn't already know that. You think I didn't? You think I had fooled myself into thinking something else? That maybe I felt like there was some other reason for her interest in me? Because let's speak true, bitches, without that, without that ability, without that sword from the Gods, I'm just a downtown punk with poetical leanings and a pocketful of leftover shards from a shattered heart. Fuck you for thinking that. Fuck you for thinking that I was surprised when she said that. I wasn't surprised, you miserable cocksuckers, I've tried to tell you: I was relieved.
And right now, the last thing I'm thinking about, is the Girl.
It all feels stale, man, old and faltering, decrepit; the lunging grabs and leg scoops, the occasional iron broom or so tchoi. The voyeurist Cyclopes can't change this waltz into something it aint: an ashen corpse in a crystal ballroom, a worn out Mother Goose too aged and arthritic to care for the casualties of the yarn she spins.
We speak in another language, kid, Maldanado and me: we speak in a language that you silk skinned pussies will never understand. We speak in quick jabs and cross elbows, reveling in the pure and perfunctory metaphor of the knee to the breadbox, the palm to the button. And in all our gestures and points made in perfect sweaty erudition, the earth hears an older, more primal speech; and in it recognizes the names by which it calls itself. And I can feel the earth sigh, elated to hear the ancient dialect of days far older than the oldest heros; talk as old as the Gods, as old as stories themselves.
How many times has the earth heard this story, I wonder, how many different versions of conflict and redemption? There's comfort in this machine, the relentless precision of my fable well told, my end well received. I feel the earth sigh, and I share her relief.
Goodbyes are tricky man, they take all sorts of words and gestures and rituals that I've never been able to fake. But on the last day with my therapist, the court mandate having judiciously run its course, I turned to say something as I walked out that perhaps would have been gracious, maybe even thankful. My therapist stopped me, you know, like he always did when I was gonna ruin it. "Zach," he said, and I stopped to look out the window, pretending to have seen something. He looked at me for a long second and let the uneasiness set it's barbs. "If you wanna drown so badly..." and I flicked my eyes back to him. "If you want to drown so badly, don't torture yourself with such shallow water." And I closed the big door, the satisfying click of its metal finality hovering over my ears all the way back down to Sullivan Street.
We circle like similes, like post-grads searching for a thesis. It looks pretty good, truth be told, you can hardly see where they had to stitch that fucker back on, the long white railroad track running clandestinely behind his mangled ear. I try not to let him see me stare at it, that would be rude, right? He tries the same thing a second time, shoots high so I'll pop. I slip it again, almost bored this time, wishing for a better fighter to close this chronicle with. I look over at JD and he takes a second to notice me, like his thoughts are so far away that they gotta take a crosstown bus to get back here. He meets my gaze and the coolness of his face melts into thermal affection. He nods a half smile at me as he dances inanely away from his own demons.
By the third time, I'm almost angry, what have they been teaching this guy? He shoots the leg, I pop. And it's not until I see it coming that I realize I've been fooled, set up like a chump; as my weight settles back, he times it just right; and crashes his big block head right across my bean. I only know the seriousness of it when I see JD shoot to his feet, his face a canvas of Victorian concern. I look down and the mat seems way to close, so I figure that I must be on my knees and that can't be good news, right? I try to get to my feet but something is holding the back of my head and I shortly remember that I'm in the ring with Maldanado, probably should have tried to keep that in mind, I guess. And from way across the room, I see his knee coming, like watching the f train hiss into the station. I'm wishing that someone would lift my hands for me because I sure as fuck aint gonna, but no one's there to do it for me, the girl having slipped off to lands more exotic, so I just watch as that big ass hamhock comes ripping through the air and settles right between my brows.
And then there they are, their entrance sudden and striking. The Gods burst into sight like a veil being ripped away; and I'm looking at 'em straight in the eyes, watching as their celestial aspect moves and changes in bright auric glare. For a second I just stare cause I'm struck mostly by the grandeur of this opportunity; here they are, kids, all blinking fire and eldritch glow, ready to hear my testimony, my story. Finally, I'm thinking, finally telling this story makes a little sense. Feeling the urgency, I cut to the chase, "You can have it all back," I say to them, "no disrespect, but I'd rather have the Girl, can't I please trade it all back?" and part of me thrills at this new possibility; this moment when through this single act of contrition, I can save it all.
I see all their faces, fiercely impassive, savagely indifferent; and I know that I just have to tell them, let them know that I've figured it out. But once I try to speak, I know they don't care: they want the old speech, the quiet speech: the mythic spinning of violent gesticulations, the valorous recital of much-ado lore. Even beyond my thick-skulled lack of vocabulary is their apathy, their heavenly disinterest in human concerns; a heavy crimson curtain of celestial fuck you.
And then I'm running, I'm running across the snowy white landscape of the Girls soft body, coveting my footfalls. And I bury my face in Jack's pink belly, and breathe deep the powdery puppy smell while the sweet scratches from his back legs make playful red ribbons down my chest. The words are running out, you soul sucking fucks, the needle's on empty and I got no more cash. Can you feel the lightness of the final pages in your hand, the extra effort it takes to keep the volume from falling closed, even as you read the crowning dispatch?
I wouldn't tell it like this, trust me, my brothers. I'd give it honor and beauty, fulfillment and guts, but I can't describe those things so good, and you and I both know that we don't tell these stories, these stories tell us.
The crowd is so alien, raucous now and grating and dissonant in its earthbound armature. The voices from my corner slowly shut off, evaporate into the margins; Cheshire cats on their way to oblivion. And the thoughts themselves, the visions and cacophony, the aches and ambition and sorrow and shame, the fetid fucking loneliness, they are water behind my pupils, seeping warmly backward, numbing my brain in tepid yellow currents. But more than anything it's the Girl and let's be honest, after the shallow and monstrous anger, after the pettiness and fear, after the world narrows to syringes of phosphor and twisted paragraphs of run-on elan, the last thing I'm thinking about, is the Girl...
User Reviews
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2008-05-09 11:00:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Brilliant
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2007-07-10 12:55:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-26 19:21:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by cshape (user info) at 2007-01-08 19:29:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
And from way across the room, I see his knee coming, like watching the f train hiss into the station. I'm wishing that someone would lift my hands for me because I sure as fuck aint gonna, but no one's there to do it for me, the girl having slipped off to lands more exotic, so I just watch as that big ass hamhock comes ripping through the air and settles right between my brows.
fucking brilliant.
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-09-07 11:44:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Who are you and why haven't I been reading your stuff? Holy shit, a post that actually gives me a reason to reraise the bar.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-09-06 06:07:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2006-09-06 01:00:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2006-09-05 11:58:47 (#)
Ranking: 1
While still great, I have to say that the "style" is beginning to take over the writing. The story becomes hazy and hard to follow at some points. I also have to agree with whoever made the comment about being able to read a whole novel of this, it would be frustrating and in the end not worth while.
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I dont know. To me it reads somewhat the same as A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, by Dave Eggers, which I absolutely loved. If this was a nice novella length I'd still finish it in a couple of days.
Different strokes I guess, but this is, in all honesty, some of my favorite writing of all time, Ubersite or not.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-09-05 17:04:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2006-09-05 06:50:48 (#)
Ranking: -1
In spite of the sycophants below I find your overripe, indulgent style quite a chore to get through.
-------
SPOKEN LIKE THE TRUE SPINELESS PIECE OF SHIT THAT YOU ARE.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-09-05 17:01:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2006-09-05 06:50:48 (#)
Ranking: -1
In spite of the sycophants below I find your overripe, indulgent style quite a chore to get through.
I can't begin to imagine reading a longer work written in such a fashion, which can be a good criteria for judging short fiction.
I read your stories in sequence, since I was curious about your mythological prowess, which I find amusing.
I very much enjoyed your first story, but this series is overrated, in my opinion.
You are the Jim Jones of ubersite. """
AND YOU ARE A SHIT HOUSE ALTER WHO HASN'T THE BALLS TO WRITE A BAD REVIEW UNDER HIS OWN ACCOUNT.
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2006-09-05 16:43:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Fuckin hell...
One of these days, I'll figure out how to articulate how much I love reading your stuff.
Submitted by marginwalker (user info) at 2006-09-05 16:17:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm at a loss....
This flows so beautifully.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-09-05 12:47:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read this to my girlfriend in peices. She's not much of a reader but I needed her to see the magick here. So I spoonfed it to her. A paragraph here, and sentence there, and by the time I was done we both just kind of sat and thought, our heads bloated and full like a belly after a feast.
Brutal Beauty.
That's how I would explain this to someone had I a need to do it in two words.
Thank You.
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2006-09-05 12:31:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Compared to other writing on Uber, this is excellent.
Compared to your own writing, it's shaky.
For some reason, this particular sentence made me want to punch a baby, "We circle like similes, like post-grads searching for a thesis."
Your writing reads like a sort of rap-rhyme-poem-song at an open mike night.
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2006-09-05 11:58:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
While still great, I have to say that the "style" is beginning to take over the writing. The story becomes hazy and hard to follow at some points. I also have to agree with whoever made the comment about being able to read a whole novel of this, it would be frustrating and in the end not worth while.
Constructive critisism right?
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2006-09-05 10:25:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Welcome back...If this is really you.
Submitted by wookie (user info) at 2006-09-05 10:06:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2006-09-05 09:54:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wonderful.
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2006-09-05 06:50:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
In spite of the sycophants below I find your overripe, indulgent style quite a chore to get through.
I can't begin to imagine reading a longer work written in such a fashion, which can be a good criteria for judging short fiction.
I read your stories in sequence, since I was curious about your mythological prowess, which I find amusing.
I very much enjoyed your first story, but this series is overrated, in my opinion.
You are the Jim Jones of ubersite.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-09-05 04:12:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
After scanning the reviews, I decided to wait until I had enough time to properly read this and appreciate it. It was worth the wait.
Fucking A* material
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-09-05 03:30:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2006-09-05 02:13:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
beautiful, however it screams of graphic novel. maybe the language could be a little bit less melodramatic, but that seems to be your style. this sort of thing works for a short story, but if youre thinking of ever writng novel-length, this type of narrative as intense as it is will wear thin quickly.
if you havent thought of it, i would recommend you try doing this in graphic novel form. i think it would work very well.
Submitted by fried-green-potatoes (user info) at 2006-09-04 23:45:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You're in your element with monologue...content even had a little "My Last Dutchess" vibe to it.
(Seems like your character would know "The Bronx Bull" was Jake LaMotta, not LaMada.)
Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2006-09-04 22:59:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-09-04 20:29:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by AllyJeans (user info) at 2006-09-04 20:17:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 20:01:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2006-09-04 19:37:30 (#)
Ranking: 2
The commentary on this post is fucked.
__________
You're right. I get carried away bullshiting with Bubba.
Bickerstaff is awesome, nonetheless.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 19:56:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2006-09-04 19:37:30 (#)
Ranking: 2
The commentary on this post is fucked.
__________
You're right. I get carried away bullshiting with Darko.
Bickerstaff is awesome, nonetheless.
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2006-09-04 19:37:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The commentary on this post is fucked.
Submitted by AsshOly (user info) at 2006-09-04 19:34:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I thought this was one of your best.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 18:26:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
If I were to I'd be sure to make a post about it. And http://www.ubersite.com/m/92544 will show you that my ass is most likely quite pasty like the rest of me.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 18:21:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
DarkAss, emoticons are the only way I can show dipsticks like you that I am
merely pulling your chain and I am not serious. Elsewise, you may start to
cry and cut yourself, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-09-04 18:19:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I knew Labor Day was good for something.
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-09-04 17:53:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
There was so much energy in the prose that some of your sentences seemed to be in danger of jumping the tracks, but overall it felt right... nicely wrapped up.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 17:12:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
He's putting me through the emoticon gauntlet right now, a fate far worse than death. :'(
OH GOD HE EVEN HAS ME DOING IT, THE HORROR!
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 17:07:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 16:51:56 (#)
Ranking: 0
Bubba wants me deads?
weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeps
____________________________
Darkie, I don't really want you dead. Just poke out your eyes, cut off your
fingers, and pull out your tongue. :)
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-04 17:01:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-30 01:14:23 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-29 15:04:50 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-29 04:51:06 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-27 15:31:02 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-27 04:07:57 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-15 15:11:24 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-14 10:27:27 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-14 02:38:13 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-13 05:59:32 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-13 00:30:33 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-13 00:00:02 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-12 18:18:17 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-12 08:22:12 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-09 23:09:02 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-09 03:51:16 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-08 02:34:19 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-07 03:48:31 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-06 19:23:52 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-06 02:51:00 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-07-06 02:33:10 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-28 01:21:04 (#)
Ranking: 2
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Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-27 15:41:24 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-06-22 19:52:17 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-21 02:21:08 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-06-21 00:43:03 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-20 08:00:43 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-06-16 21:33:57 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-14 03:54:50 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-06-14 03:03:43 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-06-11 02:34:02 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-05-25 15:07:26 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-05-16 06:45:58 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-05-11 01:59:17 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-05-10 10:54:44 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-05-10 03:40:53 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-05-10 03:29:45 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-05-07 22:12:01 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-05-07 21:18:08 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-05-05 16:13:57 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-05-05 06:17:28 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-05-05 04:40:32 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-05-05 04:39:56 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-05-05 04:28:04 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-04-30 03:37:09 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-04-30 02:22:33 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-04-29 04:45:34 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-04-28 14:21:00 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-04-27 04:12:48 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-04-27 03:52:27 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-03-31 06:49:56 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-02-01 19:32:10 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-01-21 10:55:31 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2005-01-08 17:22:08 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-01-02 07:01:01 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-26 03:17:27 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-26 02:49:58 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-26 02:04:31 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-25 04:09:52 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-23 00:10:19 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-22 22:02:39 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-21 00:31:43 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-20 03:07:19 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-20 02:25:37 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-20 01:54:59 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 13:30:23 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-19 05:12:35 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 04:26:59 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-19 03:56:24 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 02:59:33 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-19 02:19:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 02:18:37 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-25 04:09:52 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-23 00:10:19 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-22 22:02:39 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-21 00:31:43 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-20 03:07:19 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-20 02:25:37 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-20 01:54:59 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 13:30:23 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-19 05:12:35 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 04:26:59 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-19 03:56:24 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 02:59:33 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-12-19 02:19:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Death_Metal_Dude (user info) at 2004-12-19 02:18:37 (#)
Ranking: 2
BICKERSTAFF IS TEH R0XX0RZ
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 16:51:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Bubba wants me deads?
weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeps
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 16:46:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 16:33:53 (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 15:01:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
The gaul and audacity of mediocre writers who can give this less than a +2
really piss me off.
------------------------------
If they are not entertained by the post and do not enjoy the post I see no reason why they should give it a +2.
________________________
I see no reason why you should be allowed to live, but that is beyond my control. :-D
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 16:33:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 15:01:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
The gaul and audacity of mediocre writers who can give this less than a +2
really piss me off.
------------------------------
If they are not entertained by the post and do not enjoy the post I see no reason why they should give it a +2.
Submitted by Chroniclysm (user info) at 2006-09-04 16:22:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Who's your favorite Uber Author, Isaac?
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 15:01:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The gaul and audacity of mediocre writers who can give this less than a +2
really piss me off.
Submitted by maiorano84 (user info) at 2006-09-04 14:52:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
To tell you the truth, there was so much internal monologue that it was hard for me to follow what was going on and why.
But there was enough there that I could appreciate how beautifully written everything was. Certainly not your best, but nothing short of fantastic.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-09-04 14:42:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
worth reading.
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2006-09-04 14:29:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-09-04 13:34:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by creep_firebombing (user info) at 2006-09-04 12:31:17 (#)
Ranking: 2
"Careful," she said, hardly more than a sigh.
"It hurts when you touch me."
===========================
Right there. That's where I was almost in tears.
Perfect.
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2006-09-04 13:02:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Need I say more?
Submitted by creep_firebombing (user info) at 2006-09-04 12:31:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Careful," she said, hardly more than a sigh.
"It hurts when you touch me."
===========================
Right there. That's where I was almost in tears.
Perfect.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2006-09-04 12:08:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Check your email. The laundry list of adoration would just embarass us both if I were to post it here.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 12:01:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Babble I shall. If my ratings don't matter I don't see a reason why my comments should either.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:48:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:40:09 (#)
Ranking: 2
Getting ready for UM Circe?
__________
So. Darko, the boy who cannot retain his rating rights,
knows and sees all? Keep babbling, son.
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:42:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Kick-fucking-ass writing. I'm a fan.
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:41:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
boink.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:40:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Isaac, whoever the fuck you are, your writing is a pure joy to read.
You have a beautiful command of simile and metaphor usage. Please
don't leave after you finish this series.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:40:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Getting ready for UM Circe?
Submitted by madddonkey255 (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:38:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:37:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I lose at life.
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:37:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
have my babies?
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:36:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:36:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i am unworthy
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:36:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
zomg its bickerstaff.
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:34:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hallelujah.
For both your presence and the story.
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:33:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Welcome back
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:21:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
A tad disjointed at times. I kept losing the rhythm. Was that intentional?
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:20:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WE MUST GIT U BACK ON TEH BEST EVAR
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:17:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Alright, I've calmed down. That's enough.
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:17:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
BICKERSTAFF HAVE MY BABIES AND PARTAKE OF MY BROWN STARFISH I LUV YA I LUV YA
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:16:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
REVOLUTION!
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:16:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
OH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:16:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
IT'S YOU!!! IT'S YOU!!! OH BABY IT'S YOU!!!
I am a big fan of your work. PLEASE stay here. And watch out for me, I'm a dick!
Submitted by BadAssJulie (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:15:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:14:14 (#)
Ranking: 2
Not even read it yet. A real pleasure to have you posting.
Submitted by Antioxident (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:14:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:14:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Not even read it yet. A real pleasure to have you posting.
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:12:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
that whoa was for bickerstaff. though, i'm sure the story is whoa enough.
Submitted by pen_name (user info) at 2006-09-04 11:11:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
whoa