The Preacher (939 hits)
Category: UberMadness!Rating: 0.6 on 73 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by UberMadness! (View user info) at 2006-10-10 04:41:01 EDT
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Entry 1
It's a hell of a thing. You look a man in the eyes; you tell him you love him and all his kin. You clasp his hand and smile, and you let the radiance fairly beam from your beatific expression. You positively glow with the light of the Lord, my son, and you pocket his money and send him on his way with a head full of empty, happy dreams. He moves away, not only skinned, but happy to be skinned, unaware that the skinning has taken place. And if someone were to tell him he'd been had, he'd react with indignation, perhaps even violence.Why, saints be praised, it's a miracle.
The show had wound down sometime after the eleventh hour of evening. The thickest of the crowd had already dispersed back toward the road. Snatches of conversation still carried over the field, quavering on the breeze to where I sat on my stool, my feet propped up on an orange crate. Clouds covered the night sky, scattering moonlight across their surface, rearing vast above the long grass and trampled mud.
As is my custom, I had loosened my tie and selected a cigar. I was busy puffing polluted lungfuls of air into God's clean sky and running my hands over the lockbox containing the evening's haul; the spoils of a fortuitous combination of deceit and gullibility. I might have been miles from real civilization, I might be sitting in a field with mud on my shoes, but good Lord, there's nothing finer than a box of cash and smooth cigar. I was planning to really treat myself soon by cracking the box open and running my hands through the bills and coins, before kicking back and counting it twice.
I was perhaps a third of the way down the length of my cigar when Jeremy came around the back of the tent and crouched in the mud next to me. Graciously, I removed my feet from the orange crate and gestured him to sit down. My hand curled instinctively tighter around the lockbox, and I felt chagrin at my reaction, but I don't think Jeremy noticed.
"Hey Reverend," Jeremy said, a little hesitantly, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "You got a minute?"
"For you, dear boy, I have all night," I said, and I gestured expansively with my cigar.
Jeremy was my secretary, personal assistant and booking agent, all in one. He might have been young, but goddamn if he wasn't efficient, personable and when necessary, ruthless. There wasn't a mayor he couldn't bribe, a township he couldn't swindle. The kid was dynamite.
"Look, it's about the job." Jeremy paused. He seemed unable to continue.
I knocked the ash from my cigar and gave him my best fatherly smile. "Come on, now. You can talk to me about anything. It'll be just between you, me and the Lord." With that last I pointed into the overcast sky and smiled, a real smile this time, wry and slightly bitter.
"It's just...is what we're doing...right?"
He wouldn't look me in the eye. I gazed at him for a moment; his downcast eyes, his nervously twitching hands. I sighed. Here was a lad losing his way. He needed guidance, direction.
"Jeremy, lad. I won't tell you this is God's work. You've been in it from the beginning. But it ain't wrong, what we do."
"It just seems...like...we don't give anything back..."
"Son," I said, and I reached out an arm and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. I tapped more ash into the mud. "We give 'em hope. And we don't sell anything. We just give hope and take their donations. You know all this."
Jeremy looked up at me, and I saw that this was serious. He looked pained and deeply unhappy. A couple of shouts from the teamsters cut into the momentary silence, and he dropped his gaze once more.
"They go away happy, don't they?" I asked, trying to soften my voice, to use the old preaching charm. "It's no small thing, making people happy."
"But is it right? Making people happy for the wrong reasons?" Jeremy's hands clenched.
It was in that moment that I was sure he had quit. But then later, in the small hours, I would wonder if that was true. And worse, I would wonder if that would have made a difference to what I did shortly afterwards.
As I pondered my next assault on the young man's newfound moral qualms, a man dressed in a ragged assortment of clothes and sporting an angry-looking facial scar came round from the tent, in the same direction that Jeremy had come from. The man with the scar was dishevelled, unshaven; with a certain gleam in his eye that chilled me. In his left hand he held a revolver.
He spoke before Jeremy saw him. "I know you got cash in that lockbox. Give it over."
Jeremy started at the unexpected voice, and swivelled his head around. He saw the gun and leapt to his feet, shooting his hands into the sky. Hallelujah.
"Hey! Hold it!" the scarred man snapped, his tone businesslike but with an undertone of fear running through his voice like a brushfire. There's nothing like having a gun pointed at you by a scared man. A scared man might do anything.
"Now see here," I said, standing. "This is the Lord's money, my son. I don't think he'd appreciate you taking it."
"The Lord ain't none of my business," the scarred man replied. "I ain't here to debate with you, Reverend. I know how smooth your tongue is. Hand over the lockbox and the key or I'm gonna guthole your young friend here."
"Son, the Lord is everyone's -"
The flat crack of the revolver going off cut my words. It wasn't a loud sound, but it was intensely, irrevocably, final. Jeremy stiffened momentarily. I couldn't see his face. He fell to his knees, his hands clutching at his stomach. He turned back and looked at me, and his teeth were gritted and his face was contorted. He collapsed on his side, in the mud, with barely a whimper.
My knees felt weak. The scarred man advanced towards me, stepping around Jeremy's prone body. Jeremy let out a moan that turned into a shriek.
The scarred man stood before me, his gun pointing at the hollow of my throat. He didn't speak another word; he merely reached out for the lockbox, which was still clutched in my hands like a child. His hand brushed the metal surface and he looked down. It was then that I moved. I grabbed at his gun hand with my own hands, which felt weak, shaky. I twisted his arm down and the revolver fired again, kicking up flecks of mud. I pushed forward and we lost our footing, slamming down together in a tangle of limbs. Perhaps the revolver discharged again, I can't remember for sure. I also remember Jeremy screaming in pain once more, but I'm not sure if that really happened either.
He rolled on top of me and began to bring his gun hand around. Then, like a miracle, the weight was gone from me. I sat up and saw the teamsters bearing him to the ground, face down in the muddy field. One of them stomped on his wrist and kicked the gun away.
I turned back towards Jeremy. He was right where I left him. Where else was he gonna go? I staggered over to him and knelt down. He had indeed been gutholed. Blood was pumping out between his clenched fingers, almost black in the moonlight.
One of the teamsters came up behind me. "Shit...he gonna be alright?"
"Call an ambulance," I said. I didn't look back. "And the cops."
Jeremy tried to speak.
"Hush now," I said. "You're gonna be fine." I was a liar. But hell, that's what I do for a living.
I wondered if I would have tried to save him if he hadn't just quit on me. I don't know. I resisted the scarred man, in the end, it's true; but only when he tried to take my lockbox.
Not for Jeremy.
Only for the money.
- VS -
Entry 2
"I have a message for you John. From your 'friend'."The voice comes from over to my left, near the door. It's young. Has that naïve sincerity to it that I've fucking hated since I died and ended up in this shithole. She's the only one I've never seen, too scared of me to even lean over my bed when she talks and obstruct the 6-foot square area of flickery strip lighting and ceiling tiles that has become my entire world. I'm not going to acknowledge this bitch. Fuck her for being frightened of me, if she thinks talking to me is difficult for her, than she should try seeing things from my point of view. Or not, as the case may be.
The uncomfortable silence as I refuse to reply is broken only by the ever present bleat of the infernal ECG that keeps me awake at nights and the click and rush of compressed air being forced into my body by external machines.
She's still not saying anything.
"Well? What the fuck did he have to say for himself?" I yell at the roof, my speech impaired slightly as my chin grates against the fucking brace at my neck that keeps me starring at the same damn spot all day, every day.
There's a nervous cough and she sounds even more unsure of herself when she replies.
"He says he can't make it today... Sorry"
I get the impression that the 'sorry' is from her and not from the damn bastard that's become my nemesis - that cunt doesn't know HOW to apologise. He's never done anything wrong in his life.
"Good," I say. I have to pause and wait for another rush of oxygen to be pumped through my lungs before finishing off. "Maybe if you fuck off too, I can get some peace and quiet for once in this hellhole."
I can almost hear her nod sadly before she closes the door gently and leaves me alone in the company of my machines.
It'll be hours before the lights go out and longer still before I sleep. Before I dream.
Small miracles.
~~
The dinner table.
Christmas.
Grace is wearing one of those stupid fucking jumpers she always has on during winter, completely masking her glorious figure. I don't care though, because that's not her beauty, not why I love her, nothing more that a fringe benefit. She smiles at me and I realise that I must be scowling again like I always do when I'm thinking. I try to scowl harder but she just laughs that laugh of hers and, as always, it washes everything away, I can't even pretend to be mad at when she does that.
And THAT's why I love her.
The girls are unwrapping their Christmas presents now, although something tells me in the back of my mind that that's wrong, that they can't be unwrapping them now because they always do that shit before the meal. As if we could ever get them to eat before they see what Santa's bought for them this year.
My brow furrows at some of the more extravagant gifts and I look over in semi annoyance at Gracie who's responsibility it's always been to buy them.
Pig-tails and cotton dresses. Gap toothed smiles as they hug and kiss me for my generosity.
Again my scowl dissolves.
I guess it was worth the money.
I smile and see my wife's eyes light up with delight. I only ever smile when I mean it, when I'm happy. When I'm Thankful.
Except I'm not happy. And I've nothing to be thankful for.
Because none of this is real.
And I can't smile anymore.
Because they're all dead.
~~~
My panicked eyes flash open and if I could still breathe by myself I'd probably be gasping. Sweat soaks my face and the Cardiograph hooked to my chest is going ballistic, hopefully this'll be it, the final check-out.
But just like every night, it slows and finds it rhythm. Bastard thing.
The room is pitch dark but for the soft glow of the heart monitor and blinking lights of the other contraptions and with my heart-rate normalising, a general peace is restored to my bleach-soaked prison.
"Is that the dream you told me about then?"
A normal man would start or jump at such a surprise, an unseen voice that watches from the shadows, but both these reflexes are denied to me, so the only noticeable evidence of shock comes from the Cardiograph and a slight quickening of it's unending beeps.
It's him, the kindly old bastard. I let him know what I think to his nocturnal activities
"What the fuck are you doing here at this time of night you piece of shit? You almost scared me to death."
"You'd like that wouldn't you John?"
I hear a scrape as he pulls the shitty plastic hospital chair closer to my bed and then I feel a cloth gently dabbing at the nightmare's residue on my forehead. Normally I'd say something about this but he leans over into my vision before I have the chance and I see he's been crying as he locks his red puffy eyes on mine and holds my gaze for a long, sad minute.
"How are the bed-sores?" he asks in that gentle voice of his.
"Go fuck yourself" I reply.
He sighs and in the six-months he's been visiting me, for once I think I've actually got to him. Shame generated from the tiny part of me left that's still human strips me of my joy at this fact. I feel an unaccustomed wave of remorse pass through me, so, for the first time since the accident, I say something genuine:
"Shouldn't you be at home by now chaplain? I thought you finished at nine?"
He sighs again inexplicably and then takes a deep breath as though he's about to tell me something terribly difficult for him.
"I needed to speak to you John" He says, loosening the dog collar around his neck.
"More Sermons?" I ask in disgust.
"No John, I'm not here to preach at you this time. This time I'm here to tell you the truth." - A long pause - "and to give you a gift."
He's quiet and there's a deeply ingrained sadness in his voice that makes me shut up and listen. He's normally annoyingly positive. I strain my eyes over to where he's sitting and, even through my blurred peripheries, I can see that he hasn't shaved for days and his black clergy-shirt is stained and rumpled.
"You see John, I don't work here at all. I never have. I just told you that so that you didn't ask me any questions."
A thousand thoughts rush into my head but he hushes me before I can vocalise them.
"You're probably wondering why I'm here and I can't blame you. I mean why WOULD a lonely old priest like me catch the subway 45 minutes each day so that I can talk to a bitter, twisted, shell of man about a God that he doesn't care about?"
Something clicks in my head and I know already what he's going to say.
"Unless you were The Driver..." I finish for him.
He chuckles.
"Would that it were that simple John, but No, I am not your Driver and you must accept that you'll die before you ever meet the man that did this to you."
It's an oddly bleak thing for him to say and I can't help but appreciate his lack of bullshit.
"I'm here because I was once like you John. Buth then I was given a task.. A task that at first was unfathomable to me but that in time, I grew to love."
"And what is this task?" I whisper.
"I cure people, John - take their pain away" He begins to stroke my hair in an oddly fatherly way before continuing. "It's not just you I see here you understand, I visit all the wards, a patient on each.... And they all get better."
He stands now and I can hear him stroll to the door and take off his coat and hat. There is a further rustling I don't quite understand until he comes over and sits back down and I see that he's stripped down to just his white vest and undershorts, his exposed flesh a mass of scars and burns.
"But I can't heal you John, you've gone too far. And for the longest time I thought that that was it.. But then I realised... I realised that there was a way I could help you, even though it would cost me dear. And this is my Gift to you."
The ECG takes a step up in pace as I realise what it is he means, what it is he's going to do. He's going to end it, end this purgatory. He's going to take me away from this whitewashed tomb of living dead. He's going to turn them all off.
"Thank you" I say, simply.
"I hope one day, you can repay this favour"
He places his palm on my forehead and his hand feels unnaturally warm. I see his free arm break across my vision and there's a click as he flips the switch on my ventilator and then removes the breathing tube from it's hole in my neck. A weary peace begins to enfold me. Another click as the ECG is powered down.
And then a funny thought hit's me. Out of the blue. A result of my last working neurons misfiring as parts of my brain die off from oxygen deprivation.
"Why did you take off your clothes?" I croak, confused.
The warmth from his palm grows and as my vision fades, It's almost unbearably hot. But thankfully, I won't have to put up with it for much longer.
And the old preacher smiles at me one final time before answering.
"I won't need them anymore , so I've left them for you."
And everything fades.
~~~
Panic
Then Pain.
I sit bolt upright gasping for air. My lungs are agony as they are forced to expand of their own accord for the first time in half a year.
And then facts start to slide into place and reality delivers a stunning hook shot.
I'm sitting up. The breathing tubes have gone. So has the IV in my wrist. I whip back my bedsheet and see that the Stoma and Foley Caths have been removed too, leaving no trace of their existence on my unblemished skin. There's also no sign of the old priest.
What the fuck is going on?
But before I know what I'm doing, I'm out of bed and spinning around my room for some indication that I've died and this is the afterlife, my legs and arms showing no sign of the muscular atrophy that should have beset them after so much time laid up.
And then I see the preacher's vestments hanging on the cloak-peg and an idea hits me.
~~~
I feel self conscious striding through the corridors dressed like the Mr Amish Catalogue 2006 but my mind is in too much turmoil for it to register properly. Why aren't I dead?
It hits me that the decision to leave the room was a strange one to make for a man in my position, but again for some reason this thought is blurred and foggy. Dwarfed by the unrelenting compulsion that drives me out of the hospital.
I need to get out of here. I don't know why but I do.
"Father?"
I stop dead in my tracks and turn to see a young child, sitting up in her bed. She's maybe only six years old and I can see that under her pink cap, she's entirely bald.
Chemotherapy.
"Yes Child?" I say in a voice that isn't entirely my own.
"Won't you sit with me father? I'm awful lonely."
And all at once I understand everything that's happened.
And I know exactly what the preacher wanted me to do.
Entry 1:
apollo88
BadAssJulie
Bigmike
Bizdorph
charminglybeef
darko
EchoBoxing
FunnyAsCancer
goferforhire
HotWillie
Impassive-Digressive
Jack_Burton
jgreening
joedaddy
littledan
MandaPanda
Orgasmatron
Pentameter
polyamorousaj
rad1101
Shaun_Rocks
Stagger_Lee
The_taste_of_Monkeys
tinactin
yhywstudios
23 eligible votes (25 total) *
Entry 2:
a_palindrome
Amontillado
august_sobriquet
Axolotl
BLITZKREIG_BOB
bob
CaptainThorns
coley
Coyote
Crystle
Davros
DrogoRoch
DuiTicket
ghola
helbling
Hirilnara
intellismartness
Jack_McCallum
JMG114
JoeyG
JonnyX
justagirl27
kaos-king
kimmy02721
loki
lolabelly
LT
Magicaddict
redskieslookfake
Sacrilicious
sicosemen
simple_catalyst
Soley_Trinity
Spam
sparkle_pink
St_Jimmy
stevie_says
supadupapupa
WingedFoote
34 eligible votes (39 total) *
* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
User Reviews
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-10-13 20:27:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well in, Spam old son. Good match.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-10-13 11:24:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
#1 was a fine piece, and I can't blame the author for the premise, considering the title- I've just read a lot of corrupt preacher/leper messiah type stories. I think 2, while it also has some elements of familiarity, edges it out with a bit more creativity.
Submitted by Soley_Trinity (user info) at 2006-10-13 09:29:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by supadupapupa (user info) at 2006-10-13 02:02:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
nice stories, I really enjoyed #2!
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2006-10-12 23:05:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by august_sobriquet (user info) at 2006-10-12 16:48:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
number one was very solid, story line well executed didn't ramble or have any clunky spots. except the "scared scarred" man with the gun.
number two, character narration was believable and it was a very good use of first person perspective. i felt like it did need a little work to make the flow a bit better.
but hey, what the fuck do i know.
my gut instinct is to go with two. it held my interest more than one, which seems to be the only way i can choose one over another in some of these these matchups.
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2006-10-12 14:58:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I wanted at least one of these to be about Jesse Custer
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2006-10-12 14:44:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-10-10 10:37:08 (#)
Ranking: 1
Hallo there Green Mile.
--
That's like saying that #1 ripped off Pearl Jam because there's a character in it called Jeremy.
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-12 14:12:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2006-10-12 13:57:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
This one is so so hard to choose between, but entry 1's tone was awesome. I loved the descriptions and the characterization of the Reverend. Well done.
Entry 2 - in any other match up, I would have chosen yours. Once again, a shame that one of you has to lose.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-10-12 13:31:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Difficult.
Submitted by Shaun_Rocks (user info) at 2006-10-12 11:45:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2006-10-12 10:36:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I cared more about the character in entry 2... but it's left me wanting to know just what happened.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2006-10-12 10:14:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
oh damn oh damn I hate having to pick one
I read the first one and almost voted for it without reading the second one but then I looked at the pile of work on my desk that I don't want to deal with and well, read it.
cripes
Submitted by Spam (user info) at 2006-10-12 08:43:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by WingedFoote (user info) at 2006-10-12 02:20:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"...And they all get better."
though nothing special on its own, something about this line just stuck with me, putting number two over the top. again, a shame one of these has to lose...
Submitted by WingedFoote (user info) at 2006-10-12 02:18:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
fuck! why are the good ones always matched up? is it just the titles? it can't be just the titles. do people rise to the expected level of the competition? I just don't know... I also don't know which one to vote for, 'cause they're both real good. gonna have to think long and hard, not that it particularly matters...
Submitted by DuiTicket (user info) at 2006-10-12 01:57:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-10-12 01:39:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-10-11 22:09:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Both good.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2006-10-11 18:31:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-10-11 17:26:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Man, I'm getting tired of whiney little snotrags like Echoboxing.
Fucking guy shits on everything, and a glance at his work on Uber shows, well, see for yourself.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-10-11 17:23:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Okay... last one.
Why is this last?
Because I had to read these again. And again.
Both stories were told in a compelling way. #1 had sharper writing, but #2 had a more compelling main character.
Hard call here. I'm gonna go with #2, since it seems like the kind of thing I would have written.
Sorry Author #1. I hate it when we have match after match of Douche VS Douche, and then a few like this where really talented writers go head to head. It sucks that one of you has to lose and see some half-assed shithead from a crap match advance.
Submitted by kimmy02721 (user info) at 2006-10-11 16:30:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2006-10-11 13:54:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
#2 was more engaging and seemed to tell a more complete story
#1 would have been better had it been fleshed out more, but it wasn't bad.
Submitted by intellismartness (user info) at 2006-10-11 08:08:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I can't be bothered commenting anymore.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2006-10-11 04:03:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Two more strong entries this round. I am going with #2 as it really did suck me in. My only grumble with it is that it seemed to end so quickly.
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2006-10-11 01:16:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-10-10 10:37:08 (#)
Ranking: 1
Hallo there Green Mile.
====
Green Mile? where, seriouslY?
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2006-10-11 01:12:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These were both quite good. I especially liked entry 2, though.
Even though there was inappropriate apostrophe usage (my biggest pet peeve) and I can't think of any reason a person would have 2 catheters? Stoma means "hole"..I'm guessing you mean suprapubic? Either way that's just me bein picky
Good job to both authors.
Submitted by justagirl27 (user info) at 2006-10-11 01:08:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-10-11 00:12:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-10-10 10:09:58 (#)
Ranking: 1
Both stories were good, but author #1 never really explained what the "teamsters" were, which was a bit confusing, so the hat tip goes to #2.
-----------------
What a moron.
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-10-11 00:10:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:56:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Both of these were good. I liked 2 better. That is all.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:47:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:10:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-10-10 21:16:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2006-10-10 20:59:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2006-10-10 20:49:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by BadAssJulie (user info) at 2006-10-10 19:18:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Didn't read either but 1 was shorter
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-10-10 19:00:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:59:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
#2 was pretty cool, it kept me off-balance, so I couldn't figure it out - I rather liked that.
Submitted by littledan (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:47:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-10-10 14:56:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-10-10 14:43:54 (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm tired of the religioius posts....they are over FUCKing DONE.
------------
With the greatest of respect fella, with that title what did you expect?
-Dave
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-10-10 14:43:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm tired of the religioius posts....they are over FUCKing DONE.
Submitted by EchoBoxing (user info) at 2006-10-10 14:02:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
neither deserved my time.
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-10-10 13:10:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Both of these were good.
Number one was very clean and well-written. Simple and effective.
Number two had a more interesting idea, but was a little less polished. Spelling and grammar mistakes were a shame. The ending seemed a little bit loose too. When the reader knows where a story is going, I think it's more effective to simply end it, or end it with something greater than the reader's expectations. In this case, I think the ending diluted the story.
For what it's worth... which ain't much.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-10-10 12:56:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-10-10 10:09:58 (#)
Ranking: 1
Both stories were good, but author #1 never really explained what the "teamsters" were, which was a bit confusing, so the hat tip goes to #2.
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Cap'n, the Teamsters are America's biggest official Union group. They were made infamous half a century ago with their association with the mobster Jimmy Hoffa, who disappeared.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-10-10 12:50:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
With such a narrowed title, you both did excellent.
I really have no issues with either of these, I found them to both be quite enjoyable reads.
#2 for the supernatural vote.
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2006-10-10 12:50:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by lolabelly (user info) at 2006-10-10 12:37:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by yhywstudios (user info) at 2006-10-10 11:56:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by helbling (user info) at 2006-10-10 11:44:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Bizdorph (user info) at 2006-10-10 11:41:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2006-10-10 11:09:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2006-10-10 11:04:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both good. Entry two tugged at the heartstrings a little stronger, is all. I'd say that either of these stories deserves to move on, though.
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-10-10 10:38:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Wow, am I the only one catching these?
First Twilight Zone, now this.
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-10-10 10:37:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Hallo there Green Mile.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-10-10 10:09:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Both stories were good, but author #1 never really explained what the "teamsters" were, which was a bit confusing, so the hat tip goes to #2.
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2006-10-10 09:15:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
both dull
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-10-10 09:12:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really enjoyed both of these.
Coin Toss.
-Dave
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2006-10-10 09:10:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
finally a decent entry.
i almost feel like forfeiting just so my name isn't associated with the crap in this competition.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2006-10-10 09:03:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both of these were really fucking good.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-10-10 08:35:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2006-10-10 08:34:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2006-10-10 08:06:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by a_palindrome (user info) at 2006-10-10 08:03:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-10-10 06:15:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
close
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-10-10 05:44:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-10-10 05:25:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Impassive-Digressive (user info) at 2006-10-10 05:22:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2006-10-10 05:18:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Another one where both would have won many of the matchups on offer this round. Have to give it to #2 simply because the idea is beautiful and something I did vaguely like this last year didn't quite make it.
Submitted by Jack_Burton (user info) at 2006-10-10 05:03:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
entry 2 - Too long.
Submitted by LT (user info) at 2006-10-10 05:03:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Better written than entry 1.