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Wait, what? What the hell is a short story?

Sid.

By Sid.
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Sid. Newbie

Sid.

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I woke up this morning at around 12. Felt messed up, like I drank last night and partied till my eyes bled. Normal wake - up routine, get up, brush teeth, take a shower, get out, get on the 360, play with friends till nature calls again. Most of the time i find that the constant laughing and insults that make us friends can be a tad bit obnoxious, but again, its something that proves who we are while we breathe and speak gibberish into that plastic piece of sheet. Even though insults and memes make us who we are, we tend to lose ourselves once in a lifetime.

 

At around 2 30 pm, my dad came home screaming. His loud voice pierced my flabs of petrified skin that i call my ears, and his constant madness set an awkward feeling in the car ride to the golf course. I had golf practice as a begginer freshman at Safari Golf Course at 4 pm. Considering we left at 2 30, i felt a bit aggrivated. When i get in cars i tend to get tired, and I try to go to sleep, this time i got tired in the first 3 - 4 min, and i didnt notice that we were parking into the pavement driveway into a malenourished house in Little Turtle Way. My cousins house. I always disliked going there, but everytime i left, i left with a feeling of joy, as if a clown had just died.

 

While we got out of the steel plated - very heated black acura, i told my dad that i didnt like coming here, and that i needed to get to my golf match. He bellowed and his voice suddenly rose like an earthquake, saying

"DO YOU WANT ME TO DROP YOU OFF AT HOME?"

I suddenly got scared and angry at the same time, so immediately i stepped back and backed off of my dad. I hate when he gets angry at me.

 

We were there for two reasons and two reasons only. We had to drop off 1 watermelon and 2 cantaloupes. As my dad picked up the watermelon, he said in an oddly soft voice,

"Grab the cantaloupes, please."

As i picked up a single plastic shopping bag filled with 2 moderately sized balls of crap, i closed the steaming metal trunk door down, and walked into the house. The house had a distinct smell of pee and beef, something any normal house would never even consider having. I tripped on the mold on the carpet, and nearly fell on the cantaloupes. Maybe it would have been better if I did.

 

I put them on the lemon polished pine table, and my cousins down syndrome little brother came up to me and hugged me. He also had a distinct smell of pee, but you cant deny the hug of a disabled child, you cant. I picked him up and swung him around, as if he was something i had been missing for a long long time. I then proceeded across the shoe withered wooden floor with my shoes on, scuffing all the places where my foot would be. I was approaching my grandmother and snoring grandfather. My grandmother, as usual, jumps off the bed saying in urdu,

"Oh, who is this? Is this my prince? Yes it is, its my prince!"

I always disliked the attention she always gives me, treating me like im sort of royalty. Even though some people would like to be treated like that, i'd rather not. She walked over to me while i walked over to her, shaking my hand and giving me dry hugs.

 

I said hi, then went down the stairs into the basement. I turned on the lights, lighting the dead and lifeless basement where the most activity happens in the house. My cousin was lying there in his bed without a shirt, on his computer. He was astonished to see me, thinking why im not in school or on the 360 or something. You could see the surprise on his face, and the embarrasment while he got up and put his shirt back on.

"Its funking hot in here man, thats why im not wearing a shirt! Hahaha!"

I grinned and waited for him to get up off of his ass. Then i walked silently, gliding over the makeup, pizza sauce, honey stained floor, as if i were a dementor, cold to the touch.

 

I then told him to get off of his arse and go say happy birthday to my dad, seeing as it was his birthday. He then proceeded to get up and walk away, disgruntled and bedridden. I went up with him, and my dad was saying goodbye to everyone. I then did the same thing, except my aunt heard the rumble of my empty stomach. She always likes to give me food, and i dislike that as well. She then went over to the canteloupe and proceeded to cut it, using the sharp knife, cutting through an empty shell, juice stained and cutting ever so easily.

 

I then got up at the sight of this and said i didnt want any, a good many times. She didnt care, and was still jabbing a small blade into a lifeless head. She said

"Please, just eat two slices. Please."

I refused again. She continued to plead, as if she was a mother who'd lost her son. She has already lost 4 to the horrors of education. I felt sorry, so i picked up one slice. She said

"Please, take another."

While i was reaching for the second thin oozing slice, my dad said

"One is enough. Lets go."

I felt ashamed, but at the same time, relieved. I wasnt hungry at all, and canteloupe is one of my least favorite fruits. While we were leaving the house i took a bite out of the slice, and the watery juice went down my mouth and dripped on my shirt, and i cursed. I went into the car, and felt the heat in an instance. It felt as if there was a mini sun in the car, and i immediately dried one of my hands with my shirt while holding the oozing canteloupe slice, and turned on the ac. My dad then got in the car, and again yelled.

"WHY ARE YOU NOT USING A NAPKIN? GO INSIDE AND GET ONE! OR EAT IT NOW!"

I got out of the car, mad and angry. I threw the canteloupe into my mouth, and canteloupe juice got onto my shirt. I went into the bathroom, washed my face and my shirt, and dried them with a wet towel. I walked out of the house, slammed the door. It made a whooshing and crashing sound, and my shoes skid across the pavement. I got into the car, slammed the door.

 

I then looked straight into my dad's eyes and said

"Happy birthday dad."

 

 

Uggh, i've typed enough for today.

I'll finish the story tommorow, but

 

Please, someone say "Cool story bro". I just need my daily dose.

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Sid. Newbie

Sid.

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lol. Sid's going to start the short story invasion? We just got over the poetry phase XD

 

Meh. I don't like "everyday" stories....I suffered tl;dr by the time I got to the golf course.

 

Honestly, i didnt even think it was good anyways.

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Infinitus Newbie

Infinitus

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It sucks.

 

It's pretty obvious you have a thick, and rich vocabulary, and if not you obviously put even more time into it then I thought. You have put every bit of the time that you DO have out of your busy life to make this story. Most people would stop here and never finish, but you have decided to keep going. You have done very well, and you have put in detail how much life can suck. Yet, the child lives, saying that "Hey! Sometimes life sucks, but I garauntee your heart will still be beating at the end of it!".

 

However, I am not one for everyday life stories, yet I do admire how much work you put into it.

 

[spoiler=OMGAKITTY version]

Good Job

 

 

Just kidding, OMG, but this is a good read. It is a good start and you should write more stories. Be sure to try more topics than just everyday life.

 

My two cents.

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Sid. Newbie

Sid.

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So wait' date=' your saying it sucks then saying its a good read? :S

Meh, thanks either way ;D

[/quote']

 

When I cross something out, I don't mean it. Obviously. Because then I would've uncrossed it, or uncrossed my big paragraph.

 

My bad ;D

 

So wait' date=' your saying it sucks then saying its a good read? :S

Meh, thanks either way ;D

[/quote']

 

He's saying it sucks because there are no DURAGUNZZ!!!!11

 

:P

 

NOOOO UUUUUU

 

"Mature subject matter" or I request that you depart.

 

Pfft. Dun edit, i liked the first one better.

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