Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Shameless self promotion

Hello, sexies.

I had a very grumpy day yesterday, probably due to my 3 hours of sleep, devil-pms, and hate of studying. I'm also pretty positive that I might be an awful writer with no hope of a career. But then MortalCombat fed me cookies, Spaz used the expression "brazen retard" to describe a cocky classmate, and I managed to get 5 hours of sleep last night, so I feel better. A little.

So! Here is an example of the shit I do now. This is one of the many assignments I handed in last week. We were supposed to go out into the city and observe a person, setting, or both. And then write about it descriptively. I decided to write about the cab ride home from the bar last Friday. You know what's hard to read the next day? The notes you write for yourself when it's 2:30am and you've been drinking double gins since 7pm. I woke up the next morning to find a fleet of post-it notes stuck to my desk with phrases like "teh fogs was sexyyy. USER IT!!!' written across them in illegible scrawl.

The Ride Home

Several sets of high heels snap along through the dark street. Their owners are invisible through the warm fog sensually curling its fingers over the downtown Market.

It is 2am. Tiny droplets of dew, barely illuminated by the dull streetlights, form on the hoods of the empty cabs lined up on George Street. A row of glowing cigarette butts bobs alongside the outside of the McDonalds.

“Ok, yes. Hold on,” says a gruff French voice from behind one of the butts. A stocky man emerges from the lineup. He balances a coffee cup on the roof of his Honda and opens the door. “Where to?”

“I been driving a cab in Ottawa for on about 39 years,” says the man as he eases the car through a green light. His white hair sticks up in a fine fringe around his ears and tickles the collar of his plaid shirt. “I live in Lac Phillipe. ‘Ave you been? It’s beautiful.” He lights another cigarette and turns his head to look at the back seat. “You mind?” The corners of his thin mouth turn into a smile. “Thanks.”

The acrid smoke thickens the air, which now matches the white, swirling haze outside the windows. The man could be driving into an abyss for all that is visible, yet his voice is as still as the world outside. “You like jokes?” He laughs hoarsely, his rough face beaming with pleasure as he delivers the lewd punch line. He takes a last drag and flicks his cigarette out the window.

“12 dollar 47 cents,” says the man as he stops outside the white apartment building. The skin on his hand feels rough and callused as he slowly takes his money. “See you again soon, eh?” He drives away. The mist licks over the car, slowly drawing it back into the night. The rear lights fade, shrink, and are swallowed.

Would you say I ended with fog in a sexual way?



weeone said...

no shameless self promotion was necessary for this chicky :)

i heart your writing. xox

Anonymous said...

Did your prof end up reading out your notes in front of the class?

Cleavage said...

Wait, I know this one...that was...a closed question at the end, right? I can only answer with 'yes' or 'no' (or possibly 'maybe'). So my answer is 'yes', you ended with fog in a (deliciously) sexual way. I enjoy...moar!!

Amy said...

I really, really like the last line. And everything else.

Sonya said...

That fog just turned me on. Nice work.