Undefeated (1192 hits)
Category: UberMadness!Rating: 0.75 on 74 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by UberMadness! (View user info) at 2006-10-10 16:50:19 EDT
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This post is officially part of UberMadness!. Click here for more information on the rules and restrictions. |
Entry 1
The human spirit is a tough thing to break. Trust me on this, I've tried.But don't get me wrong or anything, I'm a good person on the whole. I've never tried to break anyone *else's* spirit, just my own.
Funny thing, though, even with other people helping to bring me to a breaking point, I've always been too resilient. For some reason, I've always found a way, right when I'm about to snap and succeed in my self-defeating quest, to pull my ass out of the hell I've created and become stronger because of it.
Drugs and alcohol? Shit, man. I once thought those were the answer. I drank myself into a stupor every day, and every night I shot pure energy into my arms. I thought I would finally crash harder than I ever did before. That I would finally hit rock bottom with such force, that I'd finally give up.
Well, that didn't work out as planned. I hit rock bottom. I hit hard. I cost myself everything I had made in my life up to that point, and as I sat against a fence downtown, I could feel my soul slipping away.
And I hated myself. God did I hate myself. I hated the fact that I thought I could give up so easily. I hated that I thought I wasn't worth saving. And somehow, I took myself up by the scruff, and staggered my way back into reality.
Laziness and depression seemed at the time like a great way to do it. The self-repeating cycle. Don't do anything. Feel bad about it. Feel so bad you do less. Feel even worse.
How could I go wrong with that? For good measure, I threw in a few more things that would make me hate myself. I started drinking again so I could beat myself up for falling off the wagon. I went out and picked up streetwalkers so I could loathe myself afterwards. It's amazing how fast you can crash when you stop doing anything worthwhile.
So after a while, I ended up in a cell in city lock-up, busted for solicitation and DUI. I had to call my family to bail me out, and I knew the shame of facing them would destroy me. I would finally be free of myself.
But again, it didn't fucking happen. When I expected my family to disown me, to leave me in my own pity, they supported me. They got me help. And again, I started hating myself for what I tried to do. Why try to break your own spirit? Why try to end your existence, no matter how miserable it may be? Why not work to make it better, with the help that people are willing to give you?
And so I went down that path for a long time. Years, in fact. I found a job I loved. I found a woman I loved. I had a family I adored.
But in the back of my head, I had that nagging little voice. In a sing-song I could always just barely hear that I wasn't good enough to have this. I had done so many bad things that I should never accept the life I was enjoying. For the longest time, I ignored it as best I could. But every once in a while, like a whining puppy, I had to pay attention. And every time I paid attention, I crept further and further back.
Finally, my wife noticed that I was pulling out hefty sums of cash on days I was "working late", put two and two together and threatened to leave me. Take our son, too.
She wants to leave me in the house alone. Leave me with the car payment. The house payment. The credit cards.
Fuck.
I did it again. I fucked everything up. I can't keep anything going for long, good or bad.
This fucking yo-yo life, this god damned motherfucking trampoline existence. Up and down, up and down.
I can't break through this elastic floor, and I can't get high enough to grab a hold of the branches above me.
Fuck it. I've figured it out. I wanted to get to rock bottom, but I never hit it until now. The alcohol? The depression? The hookers and blow?
Shit.
Those were never going to get the job done. You can't tear your spirit apart when you don't care about anything.
You can't lose it all when losing everything means nothing.
Now I see that.
Now I know.
I've lost my family. My wife. My only son.
Now I can lose myself.
Now I can hit rock bottom and end this shitty life.
The human spirit is no longer unbroken.
The soul is undefeated no more.
I just had to realize the paradox of it all. I have to care so much that I just stop caring.
- VS -
Entry 2
"So when did you first know?" I ask, picking at the eggs still left on my plate. The fork scrapes against the plate. I hate that sound. And yet I've been scraping plates for going on thirty years now."Hmm?"
"Y'know...when you first wanted to?"
Frankie just keeps on cutting up his pancakes. Sips at his orange juice. He's always like this. Doesn't focus on the question, doesn't avoid the question. Fuckin' Frankie.
Half a piece of toast in his mouth, he turns to me. Chewing. His answer comes out all mushy, and I ask him to repeat himself. Before he has a chance to, I look up and notice a girl all of seventeen standing by our table and staring at us. Little Nip piece of ass in a schoolgirl outfit. Staring at us. Staring at the handcuffs.
"We're boyfriends, honey" I say, lifting my arm and shaking the shackle connecting Frankie and me. "You know 'boyfriend?' Beat it."
He finishes his orange juice and sets the glass down neatly on its side atop his empty plate. "You're ridiculous sometimes."
"Ah, I hate the staring is all. Now you gonna tell me or what?"
"Oh. Right. I was nineteen. At college. Went home for winter break and found out my parents were splitting up. It wasn't because of that so much as it was that I'd been lied to for so many years. So I waited until they were out at mass, found my dad's gun and stuck it to my head. Pulled the trigger and it jammed. Checked it out, reloaded it. Up against the temple and BAM. I sneeze. The bullet goes into the wall, right next to the family portrait. Right next to good ol' mom and dad."
"And what, that was it?"
"That was it. Then. You know what's happened."
"Not once since then huh?"
"I'm still here aren't I?"
In the metallic trim along the wall of our booth, his reflection is warped and stretched.
"S'fucked up," I say, fishing a forkfull of eggs and sausage scraps up from the plate. "A little salt here?"
-
The handcuffs probably aren't necessary at this point, but we keep them around anyway. At this point I think Frankie and me are so accustomed to being a foot apart all the time that it'd be strange to be free of each other.
You ever see that movie with the gay guy from that thing with Nicholson and the queer from the one with John Malkovich? Yeah it'd be like that. Once they get the surgery.
You learn a lot about someone when you're attached at the wrist 24 hours a day. Most of it you don't wanna know, like what their dinner smells like a day later. Some of it you really don't wanna know, like their nightmares or fears. And some of it you don't mind knowing. Helps you become a better person, I think. More honest-like and such. Maybe everyone should be handcuffed for a while. Bet it'd save some marriages.
Maybe it'd have helped Frankie's folks. But then, he wouldn't be here now. And neither of us would be rich.
Frankie'n me've been going on two years now. At first I considered it a job, but now the guy's actually grown on me. Strange in my line of work, I'd say. If you can call this a line of work.
I don't know what you'd call it really.
Let's just be up front, ok? I'm a bodyguard. Ice that. More of an insurance policy. My boss knows that Frankie's quite an investment, and is right to want to protect him. Unfortunately he's got to protect him from himself.
That's where I come in. I keep the gun out of his hand until show time.
See Frankie's a lifer, and I laugh when I say that. Got into the game just looking for an excuse to end it all. Maybe shuffle up a little money to help pay for a casket and all those digging expenses. Didn't want to be a burden and all that. I've seen it before.
So he shows up one night, all 160 pounds of him in jeans and a letter jacket. Says he wants a go. These underground clubs take anyone, really. It's not like any one finger is going to be more lucky than another. That's just foolish. Steps up to the man in the middle and gets a number. Waits an hour. Doesn't back out. I think that's what I remember most about that night - how he never turned tail. Most guys reconsider and duck out quietly when they've got some time to consider their decision. Think out the whole "quick cash v. the end of your life" thing. That whole deal. Especially with, well...the product of bad decisions right there in front of them, plain as white bread.
Frankie's number gets pulled and he's paired up against this Puerto Rican named Jimmy Hots. A lot of us knew him from around town. Druggie. Probably sold off everything he had and got tired of backalley blowjobs. Below the naked lightbulb hanging from the low ceiling you could see Jimmy sweat. Maybe that's why they called him Hots, I dunno. Frankie sat there calm. Smiling. The man in the middle produced two revolvers, showing the crowd that all of the chambers were empty. Loaded two bullets, gave the cylinders a spin, and set them down before each man. Each man came up dry the first round, which set the crowd into a fit. Bets were placed, wagers made. Jimmy sat there dropping water weight by the second. Hands shaking, eyes drifting from left to right like a clock pulling doubletime. Frankie just sat there, waiting. He wanted it bad. I could see that. Had the gun to his head before all the new bets were made and everything.
They made it two more rounds before a bullet took away the right side of Jimmy Hots' head. Frankie was disappointed, but most of the crowd was not.
He played five more times that night. Five. More. Times. Won them all, obviously. That's where it all started. Where the legend began.
The crowd ate it up. This kid was lucky, and he helped people build small fortunes that night. And the next week. And the next.
All Frankie wanted to do was die.
All Frankie could do was win.
He got so good that people started thinking it was rigged. You couldn't rig a live gun in the places these games go down. No sir. Not unless you wanted to wind up in pieces scattered across some alleyway. Rigged or not, they kept betting. Betting on him was sure to bring you some green, but to bet against him? Christ, the fuckin' odds on that were outrageous. One wrong bullet and you'd be a millionaire.
It was at this point that my boss asked me to step in and make Frankie a little proposition. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't because we felt his life was in danger. People could talk all they wanted to about rigged guns. They kept watching and they kept betting. It was simple: he wanted a cash cow. A golden egg. Golden goose? Fuck it, whatever, a golden ticket for all I care. Point is, he knew there was more money to be made with Frankie than without. So we made him a deal: my boss'd get half of Frankie's earnings, and in exchange would hook him up with bigger and better offers.
Let's face it. A suicide game can only get so big before the wrong people start hearing about it. Frankie was already being talked about down east, and every night we'd run the table there would be a few more gamblers than last time. He didn't care. He just wanted the gun.
Hands were shaken, words were given. That whole thing. My boss told Frankie he was going to Asia to make the rounds there. Said there was less heat there, less chance of being discovered. More money. Anything Frankie wanted. He figured Frank'd be dead in a week, a month tops, but whatever. Sometimes you take a chance.
I followed Frankie home the night we were scheduled to fly out to Thailand. That's when he told me about the gun. Apparently Russian Roulette wasn't enough for our dear boy, and so he'd occasionally play it by himself when he was at home. Said he'd tried about twelve times since starting to play for money. Not for the thrill. There was no thrill as far as Frankie was concerned. Just the end. The kid was too goddamn stubborn to try hanging himself or jumping off a bridge. Said it needed to be the gun. Said it had jammed six times on him, and the other six times he just straight up lost. That's when the handcuffs came in. Fuckin' moron, trying to kill himself like that. Some people, I swear.
We made it a month in Bangkok before we got chased out. I lost a piece of my ear and Frankie needed 41 stitches in his back thanks to one of those Hey-Joe-slope-sucky-sucky motherfuckers pulling a knife on us. Said it was all rigged. Said there was no way someone could win that much.
We heard the same in Laos. Lasted about three weeks there. Just kept raking in the money, though. Always, the money. Crazy cash. I only got a percentage, but a percentage of a fortune's nothing to laugh at. No sir.
No matter how much he played, despite how much he hated to hear the hollow click of an empty chamber, Frankie simply couldn't lose. I think by the time we cleared out of Indonesia and stepped foot here in Tokyo he was something like 142-0. I stopped keeping count after a while. Too many dead bodies, really.
142-0.
Fuckin' undefeated.
-
The night came down heavy around us as we walked down the neon-lit alley that lead to the address I'd scratched down on a piece of paper. We weren't even a hundred yards from the place and I knew exactly what we'd find inside. These places are always the same. Damp concrete floors. Scattered wooden tables with shadeless lights above them. Pull-string lights. The smell of blood in the air, some of it fresh but most of it old and dried up in the cracks in the floor. A dead room for the unlucky ones. Underground beer in recycled bottles.
I hate these places.
Frankie's closer to me than usual tonight, and it's not just because of the handcuffs. He's been off ever since he agreed to do this thing here.
"I know it's different, sure" I'd told him over dinner. "These duel things are the new thing here, and there's lots of money to be made. Heck of a lot more than we'd score doing the one-off deals."
"I don't know, man. It just doesn't feel right." He'd only picked at his meal, which was my first real sign. The kid had an appetite like no other.
Standing here now, just beyond the reach of the crowd, I wonder if maybe it was a bad idea to come here after all. Everything's right but Frankie. The same flurry of bills and wagers. The same dull murmur of a language I don't understand.
The man in the middle is an old yellow guy about five feet tall with bad teeth and a headband that reads "Hanshin." He makes a big show of drawing the guns and revealing their empty chambers to the crowd. A little wrinkled hand slips into his pocket and pulls out two bullets. He slams them on the table and the crowd shoots up a series of cheers.
The other man's already seated at the table. Meditating. I undo the cuffs and pat Frankie on the back.
"Gonna be fine, just like always" I tell him. Give him a wink.
He walks through the crowd and past the man in the middle. Everyone's quiet as he takes a seat. They know who he is, his reputation, though it helps that he's a foot taller than everyone and white. I take the opportunity to disappear behind a wall of gamblers and take my position in the back. Place the usual bets, and the one I always make and never tell him about.
See, I always bet against Frankie just in case. Just in case.
He's at the table underneath the white light listening to the man speak his gibberish. Like there's anything to be said. Takey the gunny. Pully the tligger. The thing is, he starts to sweat and for some reason all I can think of is Jimmy Hots. Frankie never sweats. He might be the craziest guy I know with a full-on boner of a death wish but the one thing he's not is a pussy. No sir.
The man in the middle loads the bullets, spins the cylinders, and away we go. The men grab their guns and aim them at each other. Seated at the table, they're only about four feet apart. I watch a handful of spectators move closer, likely to be the first ones the blood hits when it comes. Makes sense that they wore white.
Frankie, sweat slowly running down the side of his face, sits with a calm look on his face. His hand gives him away, and starts to shake.
I wonder if it's different for him. It must be, but who am I to say? I've looked down the barrel of a gun plenty of times, but I've never had nothin' to compare it to. Maybe it's different when its your own hand doing the job. Maybe it's supposed to be that way. Maybe when there's a trail of dead behind you you can sleep comfortably at night because you know that they went because they chose to. In the end, for whatever reason, it was them and not you. Taking a life and witnessing death are two very different creatures.
The man in the middle raises his open hand and hangs it in the air, preparing to give the signal. The crowd becomes so quiet that you can hear heartbeats.
With a scream the man lowers his arm. Both men close their eyes and pull the triggers, and in an instant the hammers fall.
Click.
Click.
The crowd becomes a storm of colored bills and hollers, as second round bets are furiously exchanged. Over the sea of black hairs, I watch Frankie grow pale.
Up goes the man in the middle's arm. Again the audience quiets itself. The man across from him shoots a smile across the table, like he knows something Frank don't. Hell, he could be the Suicide King of Nippon for all we know.
Up once more go the pistols, raised to face height.
The man in the middle shouts again and this time there's a boom. The air alive with sound and smoke.
It's so fast when it happens. I never noticed that before.
I look to find Frankie slumped back over his chair. In front of him, the other man sits facedown against the table. There's blood dripping from somewhere. Someone. The crowd's a mess, and I can't get close to see for sure.
My hand slips into my coat pocket and fingers the handcuffs. I wonder if this is the last time I'll have to use them. Damned if my heart don't drop. Stupid little pieces of metal.
I push my way past the little men until I'm at the front of the betting circle. Before me, Frankie lolls his head to one side and sits up. With a slow hand he sets the pistol on the table in front of the dead man.
"Looks like the blood got me again," he says and laughs to himself.
Fuckin' Frankie.
Guess it's 143-0 now.
Entry 1:
Axolotl
BadAssJulie
Bellebrown
bob
drgoatcabin
EchoBoxing
Jack_Burton
joedaddy
JoeyG
Kuso
munkeypants
rad1101
9 eligible votes (12 total) *
Entry 2:
absolutes
Adamdidit2u
ahumblefool
Allyson
Amontillado
Antioxident
august_sobriquet
BLITZKREIG_BOB
CaptainThorns
charminglybeef
coley
Crystle
Davros
DonkeyOnTheEdge
DrogoRoch
DudeThatsBOSH
DuiTicket
EatMeCompletely
extacy_red
forthewin
FunnyAsCancer
ghola
goferforhire
helbling
Hirilnara
HotWillie
Impassive-Digressive
indoninja
intellismartness
Jack_McCallum
jgreening
JMG114
JonnyX
justagirl27
LT
Magicaddict
MandaPanda
NerfHerder
nrduncan
Orgasmatron
redskieslookfake
Sacrilicious
Serious_Melvin
sicosemen
simple_catalyst
sparkle_pink
St_Jimmy
Stagger_Lee
stevie_says
Targa
tinactin
v8lover
WingedFoote
48 eligible votes (53 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 rad1101 (user info) at 2006-10-17 05:34:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Y HELO THAR, DEERHUNTER
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-10-13 12:51:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
http://www.gweeksilverband.org.uk/photos/pigroast/p010.jpg
WHO WANTS SOME'A THIS?
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-10-13 12:45:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well look at that.
The poet writes another kickass story and gets well-deserved praise from some of the great uber writers.
Jay, your entry was decent and you'd have gotten a lot more votes against another piece.
But, Orproseamatron, you've now twice proven you can write with the best of them. Lishy's proud.
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2006-10-13 12:28:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Well, time's up I guess.
O-tron fucking SPANKED me here.
But if I can bow out saying I lost to the stories FaC and Otron penned in the first two rounds... I can say I'm OK with that.
Both fucking OWNED, and neither round did I feel justified voting for myself.
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2006-10-13 09:40:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2006-10-13 06:50:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Bellebrown (user info) at 2006-10-13 04:58:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by WingedFoote (user info) at 2006-10-13 03:06:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
OH LORDY! number two was as good as it gets...
Submitted by absolutes (user info) at 2006-10-13 00:44:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Serious_Melvin (user info) at 2006-10-12 22:44:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by St_Jimmy (user info) at 2006-10-12 21:23:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Gotta go with 2. Far more creative
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-12 17:56:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I liked 1.
Submitted by august_sobriquet (user info) at 2006-10-12 17:02:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
number two, different. nice.
i don't even remember what one was about after reading that.
Submitted by Antioxident (user info) at 2006-10-12 09:50:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
the second one.... beautiful
Submitted by Targa (user info) at 2006-10-12 07:51:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
1 is decent, but can't hold a candle to 2.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2006-10-12 02:43:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I think entry 2 is my favourite this round. I found it interesting, suspenseful, funny, all the good things etc etc.
Great work!
Submitted by DuiTicket (user info) at 2006-10-12 01:48:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
whoa... i liked both!
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2006-10-12 00:43:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
very original #2, and well executed.
both were good, but #2 gets it
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2006-10-11 21:23:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by justagirl27 (user info) at 2006-10-11 16:41:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
nice work.
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2006-10-11 13:18:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2006-10-11 12:13:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sweet baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaby Jesus!
#1 was very well-written, but in the end it was a semi-familiar uber post.
#2... SHITFIRE!!!! Aside from a few glitches, this was THE best tale of Round Two, hands fuckin DOWN! Loved it! And now I'm fucking DYING to know who the author is!
Submitted by DudeThatsBOSH (user info) at 2006-10-11 12:13:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by intellismartness (user info) at 2006-10-11 10:52:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Completely implausible mathematically, but the better tale.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2006-10-11 09:29:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The idea of russian roulette duel is just too good.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-10-11 08:46:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
There needs to be a timestamp on each entry so we don't have to vote for the ones that come in after the deadline.
That being said, I am guessing that #1 is the forfeit due to its brevity, so I'll cast a vote for #2.
Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2006-10-11 07:49:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Entry 1 was good, Entry 2 was VERY good
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2006-10-11 07:44:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Should have used one gun for the russian roulette story...
Submitted by helbling (user info) at 2006-10-11 04:49:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by LT (user info) at 2006-10-11 04:39:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2006-10-11 04:36:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Not that #1 wasn't interesting, but it wasn't exactly fresh or original.
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2006-10-11 04:34:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both very, very good.
The idea behind #2 however, was fresh, original and interesting.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-10-11 04:01:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yes invovlved.
It IS a word. I swear.
-Dave
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-10-11 03:59:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked both of these, but number 2 got me a little more invovlved.
-Dave
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2006-10-11 03:37:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by NerfHerder (user info) at 2006-10-11 00:42:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
#2 was 100% badass.
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2006-10-11 00:03:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Allyson (user info) at 2006-10-10 23:34:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-10-10 23:32:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2006-10-10 23:25:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
1 was alright, but 2 was AWESOME.
Good writing :)
Submitted by EchoBoxing (user info) at 2006-10-10 23:25:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
when is the contest over?
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:53:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:42:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
# 2 was nice.
Submitted by Kuso (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:26:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:10:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
You roont this earlier....but I still rated honestly.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-10-10 22:10:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Entry 2 all the way. Entry 1 was ok. But 2 blows it out of the water for me.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-10-10 21:06:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by forthewin (user info) at 2006-10-10 20:34:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2006-10-10 20:04:48 (#)
Ranking: 0
Number one made no sense to me. Maybe because I skipped every three words.
__________________
You must be kidding.
I skipped every three words too, and it made perfect sense.
Submitted by Impassive-Digressive (user info) at 2006-10-10 20:29:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I would put entry 2 up there as one of my favourite entries so far this UM... Nice work.
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2006-10-10 20:23:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Ah fuck.
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2006-10-10 20:04:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Number one made no sense to me. Maybe because I skipped every three words.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2006-10-10 19:59:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by forthewin (user info) at 2006-10-10 19:58:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
One was good.
I ended up really liking two for some reason.
Submitted by BadAssJulie (user info) at 2006-10-10 19:54:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Didn't read them. 1 was shorter
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-10-10 19:24:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by drgoatcabin (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:52:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm down with anyone who writes about the pains of life. Number two was a damn good story and if number one would have wrote about something else, two would have been my choice.
Submitted by drgoatcabin (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:49:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:36:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
difficult
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:34:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry one lost me at *else's*
Submitted by v8lover (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:30:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Gripping.
Submitted by extacy_red (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:24:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
2 was kick ass
Submitted by ahumblefool (user info) at 2006-10-10 18:05:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:59:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Entry one was good, but I didn't really feel bad, or good, for the protagonist. Things just sort of happened, and I'm not sure if the writer was really fully inside the head of his character.
Entry two was masterfully done. Great suspense and great writing. I think it could've been edited down a little, but that's the only critique that's coming to mind right now. Well done.
Submitted by Orgasmatron (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:49:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:47:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome. Suspenseful. And extremely well-written. Good job Author #2!
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:43:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Good show.
Both were competently written, but number two was that, and badass.
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:31:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:31:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
A little long, but good stuff #2
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:23:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Wow. Good story.
Submitted by Jack_Burton (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:10:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Jack_Burton (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:10:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
how come this appeared so late after the deadline?
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:08:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by redskieslookfake (user info) at 2006-10-10 17:08:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2006-10-10 16:54:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Hey, remember when this happened last time and some one said 'Tough shit, stupid.'
You lucked out, bro.
At least, I think that's how it happened....