Thursday, November 11, 2010

FCA #6: Separate Ways

Dear Globlets,

For this assignment, I was to take to lines of eavesdropped dialogue and incorporate it into a story. I had a lot of fun going out and eavesdropping on people and some of the eavesdroppings I got are ones I might use for future short stories. I love taking one thing - a piece of dialogue, an image, an object - and using it as a starting point, something to base the rest of the material off. I don't need much detail, but if I have something like that, writing comes really easy to me and it's very handy when you're out of ideas/brain-dead.

I've put the eavesdroppings in bold. This was supposed to be 2-3 pages but it turned out to be 7 when double-spaced. Actually, it might be 1.5-spaced. It's 3 pages-ish PER character. So there. I got the highest grade out of all my assignments for this one which I'm really happy about; the grade is indicated at the end of the piece.

Separate Ways

Now that Mike’s gone, this is my week to do my thing,” Sylvia told her friend on the phone, who laughed in response. “I can make it at that time. Relaxxx? The club? I’ll be there soon.” She hung up the phone and threw it on her bed. “Shit,” she said. “What am I going to wear?” Sylvia walked to her closet and flung the doors open. She began searching through her dresses and blouses; none were quite what she was looking for. “I have nothing to wear. I never have anything to wear!” She flailed her arms in the air. She grabbed several coat hangers full of eveningwear and threw them on her bed. She removed her jeans and sweater and tossed them both on the floor.

The first dress she picked was a plain black cocktail dress, cut slightly above the knee. She decided she wanted something a little sexier, something with more cleavage. The next dress was navy blue with gold buttons that were not meant to keep anything closed. Once she tried it on, she looked down at her breasts and decided that the dress was sufficiently low-cut. Picking shoes wasn’t going to be a problem; her black pumps made her long legs look amazing and they went with absolutely everything. She picked up her jewellery box from her nightstand and found a chunky gold necklace with matching earrings to wear. She walked over to her mirror to put them on. She looked at herself up and down, turned sideways, flattened her dress along her abdomen, looked at her legs and sighed. “I’m going to be cold. Fashion wins again.”


Mike got out of his friend’s green Dodge Durango and slammed the door behind him. He inhaled the crisp, fresh, forest air deeply and let out a sigh. “I can’t believe her sometimes, honestly.”

“Are you going to bitch about her all weekend long? I thought that’s why we came up here: to get away from nagging women,” said Mike’s best friend, Bill, as he closed his door.

“You’re right. Sorry, man. This was a good idea. Pass me a beer?”

“You’re drinking already? Whatever. I’m down.” Bill took out a red cooler from the trunk and set it on the pine needle-covered ground. He took out two beers and passed one to Mike. They opened their beers simultaneously and some foam erupted from the cans, but they managed to salvage it in time by quickly bringing the cans up to their mouths to slurp up the bitter micro-bubbles before they dripped down their hands. God forbid they would waste any. They took their duffle bags from the trunk and made their way to the log cabin in front of them.

“You know, we haven’t had sex in over two weeks,” said Mike.

Bill groaned and smacked his forehead with his free hand and asked, “What? How do you survive?” He dumped his duffle bag on the floor near the old brown couch in the small living room.

“This is serious. I have a woman that I never get to see naked, which is just stupid.” Mike chucked his bag on top of the couch.

“This is your week off from her, right? Why don’t we drive into town and visit the strip club? You’re missing titties, so we’ll get you some titties.”

“I miss getting laid.”

“We’ll work on it.”

The two men took several long sips of their beer as they stood around an old wooden coffee table that was stained with dark rings due to the absence of coasters in the cabin.

“You know what the worst part is?” Mike asked.

“What’s that?” said Bill.

“I might actually love her.”

“You need more beer.”


Sylvia was moving to the pulsing techno music among an ocean of young drunk people. Her long blonde hair swayed in all directions as she moved her hips back and forth. Her vision was compromised after having had numerous shots and a couple of ciders, but she was still able to pick out good-looking men to dance with. One got especially friendly with her later in the night; they danced and drank and laughed until two in the morning. Their dancing became progressively more intimate and they eventually found themselves making out against a wall in the club. His hands ran all over her body and through her hair. She pulled him close and finally he asked her if she would like to stay at his place for the night. Her head was spinning but she stared at him and smiled.
“Let’s go,” she said and they left the club.


“How does she even do that?” exclaimed Mike, gesturing to the mostly-naked woman who was hanging by her legs upside-down on a vertical brass pole on the stage in front of him.

“Who cares, man? Just look… Oh man,” said Bill. The two men stared and grinned while the stripper performed her erotic acrobatics for them. She slid down the pole elegantly, got on her hands and knees and began crawling like an animal towards Mike and Bill. Her bare hips swayed one way as her exposed breasts swayed the other. They began shouting and cheering her on, and she stopped to rub her hands all over her body. The stripper then crawled to the other side of the stage to please some of the other men in the club. Mike and Bill finished the last of their third round of beer.

Two women, a blonde and a brunette, approached the friends. “Would you boys be interested in drinking a couple of shots with us, by any chance?” one of them asked. They didn’t have to think about it for long; they said yes.

Sylvia walked up a set of steps behind the handsome stranger she had met at Relaxxx. He dropped his keys while attempting to insert one in the keyhole. Both he and Sylvia laughed and nearly fell back down the stairs but they regained their balance in time. He tried the key again and finally managed to unlock the door. They stumbled in. He pressed her against the wall and they began kissing once again, hands running all over each other’s bodies. Jackets, shoes, pants and underwear came off one at a time as they made their way to the bedroom. They left a trail of clothes that began at the entrance and went down the hall like Hansel and Gretel’s trail of breadcrumbs in the forest. The house was soon filled with sounds of sex: laughs and squeals and grunts and moans. The windows in the bedroom fogged up and the alarm clock and books fell from the nightstand due to the shaking of the bed and misplacement of legs. The pulsing beat of the techno music was replaced with the pulsing beat of the headboard banging against the wall.


Mike dove with his mouth for the shot that was secured between the breasts of the brunette. They, along with Bill and the blonde, laughed hysterically as he gulped down the shot. Another one was placed between the woman’s breasts but this time Mike was unable to grab it in his mouth properly and he spilled it on her. He began licking and kissing the brunette’s chest, trying to slurp up as much of the liquor as he could, although he was paying more attention to the breasts than he was to the alcohol. She laughed and yanked his head back by his hair in a rough-love sort of way and kissed him. He grabbed her and they began kissing.

“Can we go back to your place?” she asked.

Mike turned to his friend who had started kissing the blonde and he tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. “Do you think I could bring this fine, foxy lady back to our cabin?”

“Are you kidding? We can’t drive. We can hardly stand up straight!” replied Bill.

“Right. I’m sorry babe,” he turned back to face the brunette. “Do you have any room at your place?”

“We’ll go to a motel,” she said.

“I’m going home with… sorry love, what’s your name again?” Bill said to the blonde.

“Candy,” she told him for the third time.

“I’m going home with Candy. I’ll see you later.” Bill made a shooting-gun motion with his hand and winked at his friend goodbye.


The next morning, Sylvia woke up with a headache and a sick stomach. She got out of bed slowly, just in case moving quickly would trigger an unwanted reaction and cause stomach acid to spew out of her mouth. She put her hand up to her head as if to try and stop the uncontrollable spinning she was feeling. She did not recognize the room. She saw a naked man next to her underneath the blanket and he definitely was not Mike. She looked at him and pressed her eyebrows together in confusion. A cool draft blew against her skin and she realized she was naked too; she decided to put on one of the white robes that were hanging on the closet door. Her stomach rumbled and she got up to find a bathroom, grasping her waist. After wrapping herself in the robe, she found a bathroom and the moment she saw the toilet, she ran to it, opened the lid and threw up. The naked man heard this, woke up and promptly put some pants on. He came over to see if Sylvia was okay and when he saw that she wasn’t, he went over to her and held her hair up so it would not get dirty. He rubbed her back in an attempt to settle her stomach. There was a break in Sylvia’s purging and he grabbed a nearby glass and filled it with water from the tap to give to her. Her hands were shaking, so he told her not to take it and he brought the glass up to her lips for her. Sylvia’s vomiting did not seem to faze the man very much and instead of being repulsed as she would have expected, he was helping her. She drank the water and her blue eyes started to water as she stared up at him. He took his free hand and wiped the first falling tear from her face.


Mike opened his eyes and was faced with a white empty pillow and a black radio clock that said 11:27AM. Without moving, he looked around the unfamiliar motel room but found no one else was there. He threw his arm to the other side of the bed and thought about the times he woke up to his beautiful Sylvia. He sighed and, thinking he was feeling well enough to stand up, he thrust himself up from the bed, turned, and sat with his legs off one side. His head throbbed and the room spun uncontrollably. He grasped his head in his hands to try and steady the spinning. Finally, he looked up and had a vague memory of an attractive brunette. She had been there with him. He got up slowly, and walked around the bed and then into the bathroom. He found no trace of a female anywhere. He sighed and searched for his pants. He picked up his jeans from the floor and, knowing he would have trouble balancing if he put them on standing up, he sat down to do it. Next, he put his shirt on but did not bother to button it up. He got up again, in search of his keys and wallet. He found his wallet but it felt lighter than usual. He opened it up. His credit cards and all the cash he had was missing, and he knew there should have been more than a few nickels and dimes left over from last night. He shoved his hands in his pockets in search of more cash but found nothing but a condom wrapper in one of them.

“That girl must have taken my shit! Goddamn it.” Mike grabbed the nearby phone and dialled Bill’s cell phone number. Luckily, this town was civilized enough to have half-decent reception, although there was a persistent crackle on the line. It rang four times and went to voicemail. Mike hung up and called Bill again. This time, Bill answered, mumbling a “Hello.”

“Check your wallet. That girl stole my shit,” said Mike.


“I just woke up. She’s gone now; she left this morning.

“Man, I’m sorry. Let me check to see.” Bill set the phone down and Mike could hear fumbling and groaning coming from Bill’s end. Bill shouted in frustration and picked up the phone again. “She’s got mine too. Son-of-a-bitch.”

“Do you have your keys? We’ll sort this out,” Mike said.

“So much for a week of fun. Sorry, man,” said Bill.

“Not your fault. I’ll meet you in town in an hour,” Mike said.

Mark: 9/10

No comments: