Register a SA Forums Account here!
JOINING THE SA FORUMS WILL REMOVE THIS BIG AD, THE ANNOYING UNDERLINED ADS, AND STUPID INTERSTITIAL ADS!!!

You can: log in, read the tech support FAQ, or request your lost password. This dumb message (and those ads) will appear on every screen until you register! Get rid of this crap by registering your own SA Forums Account and joining roughly 150,000 Goons, for the one-time price of $9.95! We charge money because it costs us money per month for bills, and since we don't believe in showing ads to our users, we try to make the money back through forum registrations.
 
  • Locked thread
Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

I'm in need of money and voidmart sounds like a fun place to be an employee .

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

Noice. I've always liked corridors of fur and teeth.

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

The Doppol (1247 words)
(Prompt:Your character works in Voidmart's menagerie, AKA the pet department. Strange, adorable, majestic, and terrifying things abound there, and it's your character's job to keep them fed, groomed, and safe from grabby customers (and vise-versa)

The highest possible starting wage is offered for a two hour a day position at the Menagerie Pet store. The job of sweeping the dung from the mirrored kennel of an unknowable creature known as the Doppol.

I was a bold middle aged man who could no longer afford to sky dive due to the price of my prescribed pain killers. The pet store was my ticket to easy cash, and maybe, a bit of thrill.
I was given blacked out goggles, a breathing mask, a broom with steel bristles, a shovel, and a rolling cart for the feces. These items were given to me by a member of the “Lemming Division” (the workers who dealt with high risk fauna for big money), an elderly woman named Colette. She was in a plastic sheet poncho and had a face conquered by scar tissue. She told me that wearing the “blinders” were essential for cleaning the Doppols cage and staying sane.

She explained the creature in a raspy, sea captain kind of way, that no one knew what the Doppol looked like. It was assumed that looking upon it was disastrous in some way to a person’s mental state or well-being. The previous cleaners had never quit or been fired but had stopped coming to work entirely. It was assumed the creature had a disorienting effect on people. An ad went out every week with a progressively higher pay rate and a medical plan. Those employees who risked it all didn’t collect enough checks to be considered a loss to revenue, so overhead worked itself out in that sense.
The Doppol existed as one of the “Not for Sale” creatures that were present in every pet store. Except instead of a soft-shelled ribbon-beaked hot spring turtle, it was an unknowable aberration. It was kept strictly for promotional purposes.

Newsletter subscribers for other businesses at the Voidmart would get a Menagerie advertisement in the form of a ticket in the mail adorned with question marks. Bored, or interested people would write on a ticket their guess for one prevailing feature of the Doppol. If they were right, the lucky subscriber would get a year’s supply of the pet food of their choice. When they dropped the ticket off, they’d be told:
“Sorry Sir/Mam, but none of those describe it a bit. Trust me!”
They looked through the rest of the store on the way out and couldn’t help but buy something or tell a friend about what exotic creatures they did see. Better yet if they asked for a Menagerie newsletter subscription.
The Doppol was the creature least written about in the store records. From digital libraries, to receipts and manuals, to scrolls of vellum dated across centuries until you had to stop unless you read Aramaic What little was mentioned was,

• its name in the store stock manifest
• a receipt for the cage arriving on a massive barge from France in 1952,
• and a kennel schematic in Mandarin detailing the placement of mirrors in an octagonal formation around a central raised platform with an iron cage around it. Collette thought it was from before communism rose to power in China.

Considering her raspy cadence, and her breathless jamming of all this information into the air while she pointed out where to sign on the insurance waiver, she gave me time for two questions,

“If the Doppol is such a mystery, how do you guys know what it’s features look like? No one has guessed correctly all this time?”

She smiled, or at least I thought she did, it could have easily been a grimace with her chunks of missing cheek.
“We don’t. None of the other employees or managers do either. I’m not sure about the owner… but I don’t think anyone knows at all. Since no one who works at or owns The Menagerie knows what the Doppol looks like we opt that all the guesses are wrong based on our own ignorance.”

That was shady, but I figured they had to get something for holding onto such a dangerous creature.
I also asked,
“Why the mirrors?”

She elaborated,

” Someone translated a bit of the Mandarin back in the sixties. Per the notes left by the translator, the creature obsesses on its reflection and needs constant lighting.”

They had arrived in the stock room, it smelled like cat litter, dry meats, strange fruits and kibble until they came to the very back of the store. It smelled like meat rotting to the point of a chemical miasma.
The kennel resembled an adobe hut in shape, a small circular crater of raised wood sat on a black paneled dome. She pointed out that the lights were changed through little sliding holes built in the crater.

“So no one could sneak a peek. “

She handed me the face mask, I took it gratefully.

“You know the dangers involved and we need someone to do this, hopefully you can last through whatever’s in there. So be careful. You might think you're invincible but the last guy had the blinders too. Keep them on, no matter what."

She added on top of that,
“I’m getting tired of training people for this.”

I felt a bit queasy. I hadn’t expected such foreboding to go with a job like this. I thought I’d be dealing with something like a lion, or a giant insect. I didn’t bitch out though. There was a reason I always wore a YOLO T-shirt.
I put on the goggles and felt for the door latch. I heard my heartbeat get drowned out by the buzzing of bright lights.
------------------------------
Colette dropped some sea mice into an aquarium of Fiji mermaids. Behind her, people walked back and forth with buckets of kibble, a cashier argued with a customer out front about knocking down the price of a three-headed dog that only had two heads. She kept an eye out for the new guy, she was curious if the goggles worked. They didn't work for the last guy. The new guy came rolling through the aisles.

She studied his face. No cuts, no shifting of the eyes, no sweat. He seemed relaxed if not irritated,

"So you think you can do this?"

"Yeah. It’s good money. I can skydive every weekend now.”

"Yeah, you’ll be able to afford painkillers again."

The guy's face went blank, then he relaxed, more irritation in his voice,

"I’ll need to do something, this job’s a lot more boring than I thought it would be."

She sighed, he was a rude one. Surrounded by all these incredible creatures and complaining about a lack of action.

"Do you think it might help if we added ear plugs?"

He looked at her like she was stupid,

"The thing didn’t make a noise; all I could hear was those lights you got in there buzzing."

"Huh. “She continued her feeding.
------------------------------

It chided itself. It didn’t want to get filled up on the man’s front lobe, so the information about the painkillers was new to it. The skin was tight. It had checked to see what wounds it might leave on the skin in front of the mirrors. It left a slash on the belly but it didn’t help. It couldn’t stay in this skin long. It had to get back home to wait for another. If it could get chocolate from the candy store. It was worth it. Even with the terrible diarrhea it gave it.

Jay W. Friks fucked around with this message at 05:46 on Oct 24, 2016

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

newtestleper posted:

Crit of The Doppol by Jay W. Fricks

I did a linecrit in a google doc. It has examples of everything I mention in the summary below.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dBGdIdmIz0NLhghojKw0oRK5PCoumXwyUoct2PLb9R0/edit

The number one thing causing you problems here is your prose. The actual words are clunky, and you have paid no attention to grammar or punctuation or any of those guidelines we use to make stories nice and easy to read.


There are other problems too - the structure doesn’t really work and the twist ending is very bad, but I think that you should TD again this week and just concentrate on your sentences - reading them back, breaking up the parts and putting them together in different orders, using stronger verbs - just to make the story less painful to read.

There’s actually some things here that are really good to see - in particular your protagonist is a somewhat interesting and likeable character, who has a strong motivation - but all this is ruined by the poor prose.


Welcome to the dome, and thanks for sharing your story - We all know how tough it is.

One other thing to you and all the newbies - please don't be afraid to wade in and critique someone elses story, even if it's just a few sentences on what you didn't like. You being new to the dome is actually an advantage - your bringing new ideas about what you like and don't like and we want to take advantage of them!

Thanks buddy.

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

In. I'll regurgitate onto the paper instead of into the mouth of the baby bird.

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

Ciacco

(Prompt: Birds. 244 words)

"Do you smell that?"

He inhaled, a deep drought of hot animal fat, a nostalgic smell if there ever was one. He imagined corn dogs, fried chicken, deep fried Twinkies. Pleasant lard entered his veins with every bit of chewed up extravagance tumbling down his throat. He licked his lips. She murmured into his ears, her feathers brushed against his raw hide.

"You're not cured. You still think of the poison. I will change that."

Hot oil upturned his ragged flesh. He struggled to scream against the gag in his mouth. Her cold palm found his fleshless stomach.

"You’re sick. That’s why you’re here.”

He’d been “here” before. His aneurysm had taken him strange places, but this one was all too familiar. The area shifted around him. His restrained body was now in between a mesh maze of chicken wire. Greasy, foul smelling birds clawed and flapped inside the wall of cages. Never at a complete stop due to an insatiable hunger.

"They are the remains of disease I have pulled from others. "

A chute opened above him. A long stream of grain fell onto him. It stuck to every pore and ground into him as he struggled. The seed gave them strength to escape. He howled in painful understanding. She flew down from a great height of observation,

"Regret is the key. Hold onto it and you can be changed. This place is here to rehabilitate you, since life never could."

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

In.

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

Prompt: https://youtu.be/aZuI3ZkCHfs

(594 words)

Transfer Request

Dear Executive Dartboard Operator,

I work as the secondary assistant P.R consultant of The Glass Tunnel Salt Mining Company.
I’m a good employee, I turn off all the phones when I clock in on the abacus.
"If you don't have a way to listen, you won’t have to listen!" Mr. Ditch, my retired mentor from the old office, gave me this solid advice every morning.
He would usually be sitting behind me, mumbling and drooling, and typing a one page book about the clemency of the salt-of-the-earth middle class,
or some last-rites poo poo appropriate for men his age-I don't know.

As you know, when half of the staff decides to shoot themselves in the head, those packs of big eyed puppies pass to my end of the office.
They swarm in from some godforsaken, affordable part of ancient history, and they-ohfuck it’s one of them now!

Anyway. I follow company procedure for dealing with delicate issues like this. In keeping with precedent, I put on a burn victim mask and hide underneath my desk.
Ditch is senile so he’s got automatic immunity from questioning. The same stupid kid (or his sister) would come in asking about dead mother’s desiccated blah blah blah, or missing father’s ashes in the hot dog cart salt shaker- you know the drill.

If those little petition paper-boat hat wearing nags see me playing dead, I follow code red protocol and play techno music on the radio.
If that doesn’t work, I smash said radio on the floor shouting, “I'm sorry! The radios busted! I can't help you right now! Try the door on the left, take a step without looking, and you’ll find your way out."
I follow these parameters to a tee. The company standard for excluding boredom from the accounting office is in my Bible footnotes. I tell you this, because obviously, I follow these rules.

I deserve a transfer.

As you guys know, Ditch scarfed down way too much government funded PEZ and it put him in untimely catatonia. Somehow this made you shift me to an office right next to the front doors. Let me tell you about the front doors. I got my name on a door and I thank you for that (thanks for the Speed in the water cooler too), but now,
no one will leave me alone. Dry-skinned workers wanting retirement keep banging on my stairwell. It’s annoying! I can’t help them because I can’t tell who is old from who is crippled.

Whole mobs of little lawyer children hit me up for lawsuits now, due to my proximity to-ick-sunlight. I wear designer glasses so--NEWSFLASH--I can’t do anything about small boring font or Mandarin legalese. Finally, because I’m sitting rear end pointed out, every salt shaker salesman is rear-ending me with offers of THE NEW HOT PINK SALTSHAKERS, For girls, and boys who want to be girls. Or so says their pretzel cartoon mascot with his pedophilic smirk. Also, I can't stand this new throne; it doesn’t flush as good as the other one.

Bottomline:

I heard security has a position open where you can beat the poo poo out of someone with a crowbar. If I understand that correctly: I can get into scuffles with those accused of stealing another employee’s lunch. I’d love to bathe in blood, and beat skulls in. I’ll take the pay cut if I get cutbacks in the micro-aggression budget. I’ll do anything to not take another letter from another sweaty Jane Fonda lookalike, whining about no handicap parking.



Kisses,

J.R Ditch Jr.

01/01/SALT

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

sebmojo posted:

three more crits going - :toxx: to do them within 48 hours

May I have a crit on this one?

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

In
with a flash rule please.

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

Thank you for the crits Chili.

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

Flash Rule: middle Manager of all he surveys
(1132 words)

Deadline Imminent-Please Open Immediately

Dear Jacob Henderson,

I have left this packet taped to your front door, though the envelope says otherwise you have not been given a final notice on your electric bill. I wanted your attention.

I am the man who ran down your daughter outside of this house. It has been approximately two years, thirty-two days since then. I apologize if this has shocked you, and made you unable to continue reading my confession. I implore to at least fill out the tax exemption forms and look at the map of your property I have included in this packet.

If you decided to keep reading, then you should know that asking for your forgiveness in not the intention of this letter. I have left a box wedged in the firewood pile near the backdoor.

I did it when you were away visiting your wife. It contains twenty million dollars in hundred dollar bills. The box is heavy, so please lift with your legs. I have gifted this money to you. The paperwork included with this letter should help expedite any IRS intervention.

I know you are confused and angry, I do not expect the money to be a replacement for the life of your daughter.

The potential she had growing under a liberally minded family, in a middle-class neighborhood, with several close associates wiling to be involved in her life, is proof enough of her guaranteed worth. I was not drunk. I never drink. I was, however, distracted.

(please continue reading, I explain why your daughter is dead in the following tangent)

I heard that there was an opening for a managerial position at the accounting firm I worked for.

I wanted to apply for it, but I knew I needed to ready myself. I have a fog that takes up my mind and sends it drifting at inopportune times.

The used to call it ADD when I was younger, I have been told in my adult years, that is more akin to Autism. It made tasks that other people learn quickly and demonstrate quickly, very difficult to remember. Mathematics was my one viable contribution to society.

I did good work per my boss, who was a very nice woman. I started taking medication that I had previously turned down due to its digestive effects. However, as I saw other employees talking and laughing, going places in carpools, and getting invited to wedding and funerals, I knew I wanted what they had. I wanted to be able to talk, and make people laugh, and laugh as well. The manager position would group me around them, I saw it as an advantageous position.

I had to grow as a human being first though. I started to talk to people on the way back from the bathroom.
I took criticism quietly. I kept my temper when people got tired of repeating themselves. The meds helped sometimes.
I still needed to walk far away from the building occasionally, and argue with myself, loudly and furiously on why I should come back.

I learned that a carpool driver was needed in a passing conversation.

I saw it as good opportunity to get close to my peers while I got ready to become manager. I have a driver’s license but I drive infrequently due to my mistrust of my ailment.

I don’t remember the day I got the license. I know my mother died on that day. I was sad, that’s what I do remember.
Somehow, through that fog, I aced the driving test, defying expectations. When it came time to renew, I always re-tested on the anniversary of her death.

Her absence is enough to sober me for the few times I get behind the wheel. I think that’s how I did it. A wonderful person died so another could succeed.

I offered to take them home one day.

I knew I had to be responsible despite my excitement, I decided to only listen but not chat. I paid attention, I tried to.

Something needled me like it always does, a smell, a voice, the coworkers laughing loudly after a moment of silence, the traffic changing too quickly, me worrying I was being too slow, the possibility of being lost, missing a drop off, and on and on. (I’m sorry for venting, I’ll get to the point Jacob.)

After I dropped off Terry, who I think was pretending not to be relieved to get out of the car. I drove, and got lost. My mind did the same thing. I thought I should drive off a dock and sink into the water.

I was thinking that would be an end society could benefit from and feel no guilt for. Trying not to think and trying to let go never works for me. It just rolls up more fog.

I didn't notice the dog running across your neighbor’s lawn and I didn’t notice your daughter go after it.

I worked diligently to increase my savings. I kept tabs on you by searching on the internet and following emails on your home computer. I became reclusive in my anxious need to recompense, somehow. Prison wouldn’t help anyone like me.

A stay at a mental hospital would be fitting. I knew that If I went into a hospital, I would forget what I have done, through drugs and prescribed relaxation.

I would stop paying attention to the screams I heard on the road behind me. I know I could just let go of your daughter’s death even now, I could take meds again to calm myself. I could pretend to understand other people, and finally ask my boss out on a date.

I won’t. I have become what people like me become in society. This nation was kind enough to develop mercy and I am the result of that. I should have stayed in the hospital when I was younger, I should have payed attention to what people saw me as.

I know now, that I could never bring anything into this world that will equalize the absence left by your daughter.

Jessica Henderson, a spelling bee champion, a wannabe veterinarian, a big fan of huskies. I am the one who should die, not her. This money is the finished product of my place in society. I have left my job, and I thought you and your wife could use the remains of it better than I could.

As you read this, I have sunk me and my car into a deep river. I’ve kept it for this day when I reached the breaking point within my office. I will repeat a mantra while I sink. “Have mercy on them, not me. Please.”

From: The Man in the blue Volvo

Jay W. Friks fucked around with this message at 03:30 on Nov 14, 2016

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

In with an A Bao A Qu

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%81_Bao_A_Qu

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

Hello all. I'll be subbing for Twist for THUNDERTOME for the next few weeks. With that in mind, if anybody still wants to speak about BURNING CHROME, the previous book to discuss, do so, perhaps when it comes time to discuss the book I have chosen for digestion from now till JAN, 6th, 2017: BARDO99 by Cecile Pineda.

I have already read the book and will provide a link to the amazon page for those who want to purchase or study it beforehand.

https://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/0930324838/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

It is a thin book and reads quickly. It is in the realm of surrealism, which you can guess from the synopsis, "Depicting the 20th century as a character, this novel explores what happens when that character, dying, passes through a Bardo state—an intermediate state of the soul between death and rebirth."

Come JAN, 6th, 2017, I will be in THUNDERTOME IRC to participate in a discussion of the book and any thoughts derived from it.

Be seeing you!

Adbot
ADBOT LOVES YOU

Jay W. Friks
Oct 4, 2016


Got Out.


Grimey Drawer

Jay W. Friks posted:

Hello all. I'll be subbing for Twist for THUNDERTOME for the next few weeks. With that in mind, if anybody still wants to speak about BURNING CHROME, the previous book to discuss, do so, perhaps when it comes time to discuss the book I have chosen for digestion from now till JAN, 6th, 2017: BARDO99 by Cecile Pineda.

I have already read the book and will provide a link to the amazon page for those who want to purchase or study it beforehand.

https://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/0930324838/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

It is a thin book and reads quickly. It is in the realm of surrealism, which you can guess from the synopsis, "Depicting the 20th century as a character, this novel explores what happens when that character, dying, passes through a Bardo state—an intermediate state of the soul between death and rebirth."

Come JAN, 6th, 2017, I will be in THUNDERTOME IRC to participate in a discussion of the book and any thoughts derived from it.

Be seeing you!



A REMINDER OF THINGS TO COME!

  • Locked thread