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Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER
Hey Thunderdome, I'd very much like to be in the next round. But you're already full, right? So I'll have to wait and watch until someone drops out? I figure the more people there are, the more likely a dropout. Please let me into your assless chaps wearing fight club.

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Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER

crabrock posted:

sign up is open, just the word count won't go down anymore. it's not usually this difficult; i'm just an rear end in a top hat.

That's great to hear. I enjoy a nice minimalist exercise. Let me return the rear end in a top hat Favour and give you one more story to read. 30 go in, 29 or so come out!
How often does a big rush of writers like this happen? I haven't been watching that close.

Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Okay, so our stories control the price of Bitcoin.

Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER


For good luck, I did 666 words to the letter.


'90s Kids

“He said if I didn’t wear this shirt, I’d wear a closed casket. I did something to my boss and he wants me to suffer. That’s my story.” Lester tried to glare and his brows pleaded instead. “Don’t read my shirt. Don’t believe it. I don’t mean any of it.”

A kid listened with wide eyes. Lester’s boss leaned on his car and smoked behind him. The car speakers’ music attracted bystanders. Each arrival made him flinch.

A young woman touched her chest. “Interesting story. I feel for you. Couldn’t you have done it without stealing his car?”

“I can’t regret it.” A group glanced at the music, saw his shirt and stopped. One’s mouth dropped. Another shook her head. “I don’t think I did anything wrong. I’ve never been threatened like this. I’ve never been terrified of normal people like you.”

He pictured other places he could be, the bar his friends manned, alone with coffee and video games.

“Seriously?” A girl in space tights smirked. “That is the most ironic thing I’ve seen today.”

She laughed at him. Lester’s gag reflex bucked.

The kid frowned at her. “He’s mocking what defines us. Don’t say that. He looks down on us.”

“Listen, I took his car and blasted that music he’s playing, yes. I was proving a point. I gave the car back. It hurts to hear it now.”

Boots thumped the urban concrete. Lester took a step back from the approaching skinhead. They looked into each other. Those deep, human eyes and soft skin calmed Lester. The skinhead spat in his face and left.

For the first time, Lester understood the song playing. It’s just one of those days when you don’t wanna wake up. Everything is hosed, everybody sucks.

The boss grinned and yelled smoke. “Who has bad taste now? I still like Limp Bizkit. You want to make fun of me? You make fun of everyone who ever liked them. I hope they lynch you!”

The last sentence screamed out and Lester cringed. Beside him, the nightclub’s obnoxious pinks and oranges swept the footpath and imitated the sunset. A round clock in the window read 7:06. One hour until ‘90s night began, the trendiest place in the trendy suburb. 21 hours since he tore past, waving to the youngsters from his boss’s car. Lester hung his throbbing head.

The club doors opened. Bean thin, dressed in hemp and restaurant aprons and animal rights shirts, they filed toward him in a long line.
The little crowd spotted them and went quiet. They stepped away, slow. Someone whispered, “Vegans.”

They made their own thick semicircle around Lester. Each wore a different emotion. The bald man in the middle sighed, “So this is him.”

Lester balled his fists and kept his eyes on theirs. He couldn’t show weakness now. “They say you’re the most serious people here.”

Another nodded at the shirt. “I’m a ‘90s kid. I get it. But he died in 2009.”

“Very edgy.” Another stepped into his face. “Killing your gods, huh?”

His stare fell for half a blink. One or three fell on him. Their meek slaps covered him and they patted at first then scratched then ached. They gripped his shirt, the movie star’s autopsy photo in stockings, wig and noose. Written overtop: Only ‘90s Kids Will Get This. Ten tugged, 15 managed to tear it away and heaven’s cool air opened over his bare shoulders. He curled over the cold footpath and a girl called “Stop it!”

Tiny hands, rainbow striped stockings. She might’ve been 12 or 25. The vegans shrank away.

“You’re meant to be pacifists!”

She stood tall with her back to Lester. The girl crouched and held him.

Lester squinted. “How old are you?”

“14. Your shirt’s kinda funny. You really have balls.”

“You were born in 1999.”

His boss stared, mouth open, cigarette at his feet. He shied back into his car.

“You’re okay now. I get you.” She bared her teeth at the vegans.

Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER

quote:

Oof, laddy. This was a clunker. You've got all these random people talking, only the vaguest nod to setting, and I'm still not entirely sure what's going on. Best I can get is that Lester hosed with his boss and now has to stand around blaring Limp Bizkit and wearing a shirt with (I assume?) David Carradine's autopsy photo?

As an aside, much like bro fiction, hipster-mocking fiction is starting to become a real Thing here around the 'dome. But the thing about satire is that it has to be universal; it has to lampoon a specific thing in a general enough way that it's accessible to people who aren't necessarily within/proximate to the group/thing you're satiring.

Wow, you guys have helped the hell out of me. Thing is, I've been working in the media for years, so the only feedback I get is either "Wow this amazing, I agree with you" or "I disagree with you, please drink some petrol." I don't get anything technical. Any solid advice is a treasure. Also, we're meant to use tiny sentences designed for three-second attention spans, which don't translate so well into fiction.

Another thing I feel was that I tried to fit too much into a small space, which gave the clarity another blow. Again, perk of journalism.

I'm going to toss myself into the match after the current one, find all the differences between what previous winners and I do, then learn from you all. Until I give you something really decent, I mean to keep the fancy new title I'm guessing I receive.
Is it too early to sign up for next week?

Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER

Sitting Here posted:


Fodder for the Blood God:


I cast myself into this list! Add my name to the town prescriptions and let the thugs come. I am stoked about this round, my only regret being that we probably don't get to see sebmojo do an outlaw story.

Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER
Amber Skald (751 words)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/11xfTagqw8omuacjM8zAjlKLVsnn6P3HrwTvdmMNeksA


Judges, you've given me so much advice already, though could you tell me if I've improved since losing the last round? I wrote this one with a main focus on clarity and neatness.

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Dirty Communist
Apr 29, 2010

THUNDERDOME LOSER

crabrock posted:

Dirty Communist, your story needs to be opened up to guest viewing.

Done. Sorry about the hold-up, I'm still learning how to Google Drive.

That link again.

Dirty Communist fucked around with this message at 10:03 on Oct 30, 2013

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