View Full Version : And then it happened..

10-29-05, 02:20 AM
So I have dozens of lengthy stories on misc. forums and such, but I figured I'd just tell this guy
to read this following excerpt from a book I worked on this summer, obviously this novel is written to be read in its entirety. Its loosely based upon my life and is divided up into chapters by towns or people. This is merely an introduction of can't be labelled as the preface since I've already written one for this novella. Without any further ado, besides this... read this, read my long posts on here... get a feel for my uncannily flexible writing style, then evaluate. Don't read a paragraph of this and give up, titmouse.

=== start book excerpt ===

All he heard was silence. Well, silence and a whole bunch of racket coming from downstairs. It was his 'other' family coming home. They lived in the same house, but when it came down to it. They weren't family. He considered his father family, but those other two were left out entirely.

Not only were they not related to him by blood, they were noticeable trash in a sea of trash. They didn't come from money, and they didn't have any common sense or wits about them to make up for the lack of wealth. How they even became part of the family was a mystery to him. He knew how it happened, but it was more of a question of "why" instead of "how."

His biological mother was beautiful. She had long, dark brown locks of hair that cascaded to the middle of her back. She met him in highschool and they were both the talk of the town. A very hot couple they were, and destined to fail. Which they did after procuring a pair of boys. She was a romantic, and she emcompassed him with her love. She always knew they would be together forever. He came home with a greasy hickey necklace some tart of a woman gave him. So that was over.

Once they separated and eventually achieved divorce, they went to live in a small apartment on the other side of the nearest town. They didn't mind it there, sometimes they would go outside and wander around in the grass by the small white flowers that grew all over the residence. One of them would clean out a jar, and keep the empty container and lid, then go out to the small flowers that the honeybees were pollenating and swiftly trap the honeybee inside the jar, after pinning it between the ground and the jar, they would slide the lid back on carefully without giving the bee a chance to escape, and tighten the lid. Every now and then, a monster sized bumblebee would be spotted amongst the vast amount of 'regular' honeybees. The pain that a bumblebee could produce in comparison to a honeybee was immense, and sometimes tear inducing. But the boys had been struck so many times by the tail end of the honeybees, that they almost had to get stung by a monster bee to keep the excitement around anymore.

She didn't take too well to the new environment though, she was hurt, in a way that couldn't be explained unless a person was to go through the exact same circumstances. But she had the boys, and that was becoming all she really cared about. On the downside, her only way to relieve the pain was to go out and drink. And drink she did, multiple times a week. She'd get Kathrin Metzger, her closest friend outside of the family, to babysit the kids while she was out drinking her failed marriage into the depths of her memory. Pushing it so far away that the only thing that knew how hard she was trying to forget was her liver, which coincidently also had a failed marriage, however no offspring, but not for the lack of trying. Additionally, the liver was begining to feel like it would divorce itself from the inside of Mother's body if she didn't stop neglecting it, and sometimes when nobody is around, he thought she called it a "jerk", but that is merely heresay. Liver heresay, and we know that is normally about as believeable as anything our forty-third president has ever said.

When She wasn't working, cleaning, cooking, smoking, or sleeping, she was normally disciplining my brother and I for violating basically any rule that could be broken. We had a lot more rules than other kids our age, because my mother took pride in raising us "right", (which I appreciate a lot more now than I did back then) we had to keep our room spotless, and notice the lack "room" in the plural form, that is because we lived in that small apartment I mentioned earlier. Two boys and a lot of figurines and such didn't equal a very clean room as often as I would have liked. Sometimes I'd start a battle between my G.I. Joe and Ninja Turtle toys and before I knew it, I was getting raised by my arm and my *** tanned with a thick leather belt for not keeping my room tidy. This seemed a bit harsh then, but seeing my fellow comrades grow of age has shown the importance of *** stripes as a adolescent. It isn't a fool proof plan, obviously, of giving your child the old "one-two" double *** stripe for not paying attention to small rules, or the near death expirence that was staying at a friend's house without asking, but I fear for those who got to do whatever they pleased when they were younger. Almost one-hundred percent of the time spanking has turned out the only factor I can see between veering from the beaten path into the land of drugs, adultery, and basic morals in general. Actually more like ninety-six percent, but that is neither here nor there. My friends now, that were spanked and disciplined back then, are fairly honest and trustworthy comrades. But all of my friends that were, to my knowledge, never spanked, have adopted the most comprehensive list of wrong-doings I've ever seen, or heard of.

Its sickening to watch a friend traverse the road to absolute failure. Especially when they all seem to do such a damn good job at it. If those few comrades of mine were as determined at any specific general good thing in this world, as they were at ****ing everything up. Today, if they hadn't screwed it all off, any of them could've mastered anything masterable, instead of a frown whenever somebody mentions their name. After my best friend and blood brother, which I will get to later, departed, and blood brother by means of cutting one's hand until you got a good palm full of DNA and then pressed it firmly against the other guy's hand kind of way, was the reason I had to find a new close friend to fill all those empty spaces that used to be slots of mischief with the former friend.

I met him at school in the hallway. I only meant to inquire about the girl I spotted him mingling with at lunch time, but ended up hitting it off quite well, which was better than my predicted outcome, in which he shouts something about the girl belonging to him and getting a swift kick in the dick. I recall hanging out during lunch and a class we had together now that we were aquainted. Then the big deal as a middleschooler, was to stay over at somebody else's house. We mostly hung out at his house, because my mother was strongly opposed to having company over. I thought she was just being a stabbing pain in my tit, but I think now it was mostly because she would get in a fight with her next husband, that I have conveniently skipped over and must inform you of here anytime. They would get in the most ridiculous fights about stuff I was too negligent to take note of, and we always ended up moving out for a week or two. By always moving out, was as certain as some titmouse swerving into your lane thereby cutting you off from whatever you were attached to, with her impossibly massive sport utility vehicle, and not only dashing all hopes of not being cut off, but also of seeing anything but the *** end of the largest rollable collection of metal imaginable. Thats how dependable Mother was when moving out was the primary focus. So basically I fathom now that she didn't want to risk the public embarassment of seeing one of my friend's parents in the grocery store after taking him home in the A.M. because we had to move to a different state unexpectedly. That, or she just didn't take kindly to the idea of an extra ****, four ****s altogether, running around and audibly having a 'good time', instead of maybe catching a late afternoon nap, or tanning my *** because of something I have done wrong in an attempt to dispell the metric tons of boredom I regularly happened upon.
So I was at his house a lot, playing Nintendo and trying my best to tame my creativity with something so pointless that you could spend days digging away at some game and when you are finished, nothing close to a twenty dollar bill pops out of a secret slot, nor do you win a free trip or some kind of recognition outside the people that watched you play, for killing the evil king, saving the princess, and never blinking. After some time of that, we would coax his mom into rustling us up some meal with as many courses as a bachelor's degree, then we would be pleasantly ungrateful for the cuisine as we went right back to ****ing our lives away virtually. He was a good guy though, he had never been in any trouble before I met him, nor had he ever talked of a grand scheme to **** up his promising future.
Another comrade we met along the way, Tom, would help us form a completely self-contained iron ****ing triangle. It was a bond that most people with dentures hope to achieve when they spread adhesive across the part of their dentures where the plastic meets their toothless gums. We had a hell of a time and don't worry I'm sure I'll let you in on a few of the countless notable events we lived through. It wasn't much of a surprise to Tom, or myself, since we grew closer as Camron distanced himself from sensibility, that he started drinking before we knew of its benefits and limits. He, which was an Iron Triangle violation, decided to jump into the unknown by having a few brewskies with a person we all knew, but came to a consensus that "Iron Square" sounded a bit off, and was reason enough not to have anybody but ourselves to rely on. Fishing around for words, Camron tried to explain all of this reasons for drinking. I for one, wasn't about to touch beer and likely become uncontrollable or risk arrest at such a young age. I knew so little about all of the benefits beer would provide me with, even without reguard for limitations. But he did what he did, and the Iron Triangle was on a fairly visible path to becoming just an iron stick.

We let him know that what he did was against anything he had claimed to ever stand for, and that each and everyone of us had a duo of alcoholic parents to defy by not ever drinking. Ever. Apparently he didn't know the word, or have a dictionary, because 'ever' for Cam' was not even a year after fourteen. Tom and I found it fit to alienate Camron and cut our losses before they drug us down. Funny that his next discovery, was to drug himself down with any number of pills or herbs he could ingest and or inhale.
"Taylor! I ****ed up man" he informed me, with a wimper in his tone.
"What now Cam? What's going on?" I asked him with a bit of concern, but mostly out of tired repetition.
"I was trying to scare my dad, so I took a bottle of Tylenol, some diet pills, and another full bottle of caffein pills" He said with a bit of pride.
"Tylenol PM, or fast relief soft-gels?" I wanted to ask out of spite. But I probably said something like "Where are you? Why did you do that?"
"I was only trying to scare my dad" He said, starting to sound a bit scared.
"Maybe use different tactics next time, but you need to call him and an nine one one before all those pills dissolve in your stomach" I commanded
"Maaan, maan I don't know, dad is going to be ****ed" He said, ignorantly wasting valuable seconds until he cures a myriad of common aches, pains, loses twenty pounds, and stays awake for a solid week, perhaps week and two days.
"Well he should be ****ed, even though you were going for scared, I think you start crabwalking upsidedown, covered in blood, down your stairs when your dad is in the general area. Instead of putting your health in jeopardy" I suggested, with a hint of sarcasm.
I think it was that pill hungry incident that landed Camron firmly in his father's grasp for more than just a couple weekends a month like before. I'm certain Camron wished there were a prescription to get him out of this mess.

[end unfinished chapter]