When a guy lives in such a small town, he knows everyone. Everyone knows him. Everybody knows him, his brothers, his mother, father, grandparents on both sides... hell, they even knew who his dad was screwing before Dad married Mom.
They also know Melinda. Sweet, luscious Melinda with the to-die-for figure and the big brown eyes. When they see him walking hand-in-hand down the street with her, they'd know she is his girl.
He glanced around for his alarm clock and growled at the realization it was buried under his dirty tee shirts and four Good Times soda pop cups. Angrily brushing aside black bangs still wet from his shower, he shoved the crap off his nightstand and read the time. With a yelp, he dashed to his chest of drawers where his mom stacked his cleaned laundry. Up there it was less likely to get dirtied by his other 'stuff', she said. A quick rifle through the pile of black tee shirts located the one with missing sleeves which he tossed onto the bed while shoving dirty laundry around the floor with his bare foot to locate his jeans. They were his favorite black denims, with the rhinestones outlining an arrow over the zipper fly and with chrome buckles up the outside leg seams. The pants were starting to look a bit battered from repeated wearings; he was pleased. If he was lucky, Melinda would be wearing her super-tight striped knit top and her satin slacks that showed every curve, and maybe people would notice his arms toned from hours of drumming practice. Yeah, he and Melinda would look good together.
His phone rang in his school bag. With another growl of frustration, he whipped his head around the room to find where he'd dropped his books, but the phone stopped ringing before he got to it. The screen said "Mellie", and he looked towards the roof in frustration. Damn, that girl's impatient!
He whipped his hair violently to shake off the extra water before pulling the tee shirt over his head. Two strides brought him to the mirror to make certain all the lettering was still there. Backwards he read "UNITED ROCKERS". The skull was just as dark front or back. Quickly he put on some wool socks and his dad's old Desert Storm Army boots, tying the laces tightly before covering it all with the over-long pant cuffs. Rummaging through the top dresser drawer, he found his three-inch wide leather wrist band, the one earring with a cross and a skull, and a simple silver nose ring. He donned these and checked the mirror one last time. He stared for nearly a minute and suddenly tore the collar of his tee shirt, rending it straight down three inches.
Good.
Okay.
Now to call the Sweet Mellie back. Gaughth was ready to go out.
This was an exercise of the Writing Adventure Group. The criteria for the exercise is listed above. The info about the group and how to participate is below.
Writing Adventure Group
This is an open, online writers’ group. Anyone may participate. It’s helpful if you have a blog, but if you don’t have one, you can always get a free blog from wordpress.com.
Our purpose is to build a community of writers who help and support each other, and to hone our observational and writing skills by interacting with each other and the world around us.
Here’s how it works:
- Adventures should take you 5-10 minutes to complete! We’re going for short and easy. This should not be like having a part time job. You may post your results as a few lines, or a few paragraphs. This does not have to be polished, but is an exercise only! See previous WAG posts here.
- You will typically have one week to do the assignment and post the results on your blog. Deadline given at the bottom of the instruction post.
- After you post your results, email THE LINK TO YOUR POST (not just your blog) to NixyValentine AT gmail DOT com. This way I can link back to you in the next post! Please include the word WAG in your subject heading. Please include the title of the post (if any) and your name as you want it to appear on the listing. If you do not do this, I will use the name as it appears on your email.
- To get more people involved, please use Twitter, FB status, myspace, your blog, etc to tell your writer friends about the group and talk about your own writing adventure!
Rules
Well, there really aren’t any. This is an experience, not a classroom. There is no wrong way to do this!
To get the most out of this, I would suggest visiting the other participants’ blogs and linking to them from yours to build the writing community.
If you have an idea for an adventure or have questions or comments about the group, write to nixyvalentine AT gmail DOT com.
Hi-
ReplyDeleteLOVED this- *smile* could see and even smell this one. But then, I had teenagers-
Great job!
Very good, Sue. Great description that pulls in all of the senses. I see this boy (and probably Mellie too) every time I pick up my daughter at high school. Excellent piece.
ReplyDelete~jon
I live in an area of cowboy boots and migrant farm hands, so it was very strange to see a Goth couple walking down the road. I must say they were a very cute couple, although not quite as extreme as I painted him AND the guy I saw in town wasn't wearing his girlfriend like an accessory. :-)
ReplyDeleteI saw the picture you painted perfectly. Loved the guys name. Is this part of a larger story?
ReplyDeleteCheers.
Chris, thanks for stopping by. Yanno, it wasn't part of a larger story - just this guy I saw on my way back home from the library just before I got home and in a panic realized I needed a character for the WAG. Now that you mention it, I could write a short tale about a goth in a cow-town. What a strange setting indeed!
ReplyDeleteFantastic description! He sounded a strange combination of scary and cute!
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed reading this post after my long crazy week.
ReplyDeleteBrenda M from wag (sort of a newbie)
Isn't it funny that no matter if the current local fad is emo, goth, preppy, etc., teenagers are still the same? :)
ReplyDeleteI really liked that, despite his quirky looks, that's what came out. A genuine teenager whose Mom probably smiles at the memories of her little boy after sighing with exasperation.