11-22-2013, 02:03 AM
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Todd, you have me engaged. I found some typos and have suggested a few rephrasings:
There were only two seasons in Bramble Point: green and dead. The trees never changed color here. A steady
(Tyler had been planning to spend this last week at his dad, Nick’s, apartment, but Sherry, the lounge waitress girlfriend, had another one of her episodes. this reads oddly) family came up. He remembered his dad's crooked smile. The one he gave whenever he was about to lie to him. What his father had meant to say at that moment was that having sex with Sherry was only a billion times more important than hanging out with him. What he actually said was that he couldn't live with her "migraines". He'd winked, called him sport, and punched him on the shoulder. What the hell did he think this was, <Leave It to Beaver>? Tyler smirked, with Sherry that's probably exactly what he thought. Nick had had his fill of depth when he'd been married to Tyler's mother, Tina.
These days, he had his own troubles with his mom. She made enjoying Halloween difficult. “It’s demonic,” she had said just last Sunday after church<,> reminding him “Pastor Ray does say it’s Satan’s Holiday.” Tyler wasn't sure if he even believed in God, and definitely not Pastor Ray's God. His God yelled a lot, and seemed pissed off at everyone--a lot like Pastor Ray himself. Mom had found God after Dad left, and hoped Tyler would, too. For weeks she’d been dragging him to this church telling him how much fun he’d have at the First Assembly Harvest Festival and Lock-in.
He’d heard about Lock-ins from Toby Sullivan. Toby got stuck going last year. They trick you with pizza and rock-wall climbing, but what they really do is lay on the preaching. Toby said most of the kids were chanting for about two hours, “We Love Jesus. Yes We Do! We Love Jesus. How ‘Bout You?” He said it was like being in jail—and the pizza was Dominoes. Dominoes!
Tyler opened his front door to a burst of hot air. Crossing the room to the air conditioner, he switched it on, and dialed it down to seventy. The noise it made coming on couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t going to stand in this furnace. He noted the old paint-splattered bed sheet stretched under an easel in the living room. His mother had been at it again, trying to paint. Tyler grimaced at the canvas. It had been blank for too long. Her sketch book was open on the arm of the couch, next to a half-eaten tuna sandwich. There were some torn out sheets crumpled on the floor. She was going to be cheery. She had to be home. Tyler stepped carefully around the clutter, angling toward his room. Years of being unnoticed had made him as quiet as a whisper.
He wanted to go as a vampire this year. Michaela Winters thought vampires were sexy ever since <’Midnight’> came out. He put the newly purchased plastic fangs in his mouth and snarled into the closet door mirror<.> He thought about wearing glitter like in the movie, but that was just stupid. Vampires didn’t sparkle, and anyway that’s a recipe for an ass kicking. He brushed his too ordinary brown hair out of his eyes. There wasn’t time to get a haircut. He turned his attention to the closet looking for something black to wear. Hearing footsteps in the hall, he quickly pocketed the fangs.
“Trying to put a costume together?” his mother asked. Without turning Tyler shrugged his shoulders and gave a low,
“Mom!” Tyler started backing away from her. David and Goliath? Great, just another reminder that he didn’t take after Dad—he was barely taller than she was. At least he didn’t inherit her freckles.
“You’re right,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m sure a lot of kids will go as David. I know! What about Phineas? All we need is a spear. I told you about Phineas right? When the Israelites left Egypt, God told them not to be—she struggled for the words—sexually active with the Canaanites...”
“Mom!” Tyler tried to will her to stop talking, stop talking.
“Now, honey, this is important. You’ve just turned fifteen, and I’m sure you’re discovering girls. You need to make the right life choices. I wish my mother had told me these sorts of things,” she said.
“Maybe your mother had the right idea.” Tyler turned away so he didn’t have to look at her. It had been bad enough last year before her conversion. She had placed two condoms on the kitchen table, and then it kept getting worse. He figured she’d read a book somewhere and was checking off items on a list: be responsible, you have urges, someone special. Then she had put one of the condoms on a banana to demonstrate. Tyler shuddered. This year it was fornication, and abstinence, and Phineas will drive a spear through you—like that wasn’t sexual. She was so embarrassing. She didn’t have to worry though, he was abstinent by default—and it wasn’t anything to be happy about.
There was a knock on the door. His mother let go of the sheet and turned to answer it. Tyler could hear her voice retreating down the hallway, “Okay, okay, I’ll let you come up with your own ideas. Hormones have sure gotten you touchy.”
“It’s not hormones!” Tyler threw the sheet into the closet. He was stupid to think he could put a costume together at home. Maybe he could go as the Devil; he was in the bible—Tyler snorted, like his mom would go for that. He could just imagine sneaking away from the Lock-in and crashing Michaela’s party dressed as David.
Random Jerk: What’s that in your hand loser? Is that a jockstrap?
Me: It’s a sling.
Random Jerk: [Laughter] Looks small enough for you.
“Ally’s here,” his mom yelled from the living room. He could hear them speaking, Ally’s voice rising over his mother’s.
“No thanks, Ms. Maltz, I had something to eat at home. Okay, Tina. No, no, really don’t go to any trouble. Um, I mean, yes, a cookie would be nice. Thank you.” Ally walked into Tyler’s room shaking her head slightly, holding two chocolate chip cookies. “Your mother said to give you one.” She handed him both cookies. His mother always thought Ally was too thin. So every time Ally visited, she had to run the gauntlet of offered sandwiches, potato salads, and whatever else his mom had in the fridge. It wasn’t that she didn’t eat; she was just always in motion. Her body had a hard time containing its own energy.
She sat cross-legged on his bed facing him, her blond hair peeking out beneath a baggy, green hoodie. Her smile was sympathetic. “Your mom still giving you a hard time about Halloween?”
Tyler shrugged, “It isn’t really about Halloween. It’s about my dad” He bit a cookie. “Sherry moved in with him last week.”
“They’re living together? I thought he said, he didn’t want to be in a relationship,” Ally said, unconsciously pulling on the hoodie’s strings.
“Yeah, I guess he just didn’t want to be in a relationship with us,” Tyler said, brushing cookie crumbs off the bedspread onto the floor. “I think this church thing is a reaction. Mom’s trying to change—be someone else. She’s manic.”
Ally was < absent mindedly> batting the model of the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln with her right hand. It had hung from Tyler’s ceiling since they first built it together when they were eight. The guns were crooked and the landing deck off-center. “Anyone might be manic when their marriage ends—anyway, all parents are manic.”
He told Ally about David and Goliath. “I need your help tomorrow.”
There's a great sense of realism and believable dialog herein Todd! Nice./Chris
Todd, you have me engaged. I found some typos and have suggested a few rephrasings:
There were only two seasons in Bramble Point: green and dead. The trees never changed color here. A steady
These days, he had his own troubles with his mom. She made enjoying Halloween difficult. “It’s demonic,” she had said just last Sunday after church<,> reminding him “Pastor Ray does say it’s Satan’s Holiday.” Tyler wasn't sure if he even believed in God, and definitely not Pastor Ray's God. His God yelled a lot, and seemed pissed off at everyone--a lot like Pastor Ray himself. Mom had found God after Dad left, and hoped Tyler would, too. For weeks she’d been dragging him to this church telling him how much fun he’d have at the First Assembly Harvest Festival and Lock-in.
He’d heard about Lock-ins from Toby Sullivan. Toby got stuck going last year. They trick you with pizza and rock-wall climbing, but what they really do is lay on the preaching. Toby said most of the kids were chanting for about two hours, “We Love Jesus. Yes We Do! We Love Jesus. How ‘Bout You?” He said it was like being in jail—and the pizza was Dominoes. Dominoes!
Tyler opened his front door to a burst of hot air. Crossing the room to the air conditioner, he switched it on, and dialed it down to seventy. The noise it made coming on couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t going to stand in this furnace. He noted the old paint-splattered bed sheet stretched under an easel in the living room. His mother had been at it again, trying to paint. Tyler grimaced at the canvas. It had been blank for too long. Her sketch book was open on the arm of the couch, next to a half-eaten tuna sandwich. There were some torn out sheets crumpled on the floor. She was going to be cheery. She had to be home. Tyler stepped carefully around the clutter, angling toward his room. Years of being unnoticed had made him as quiet as a whisper.
He wanted to go as a vampire this year. Michaela Winters thought vampires were sexy ever since <’Midnight’> came out. He put the newly purchased plastic fangs in his mouth and snarled into the closet door mirror<.> He thought about wearing glitter like in the movie, but that was just stupid. Vampires didn’t sparkle, and anyway that’s a recipe for an ass kicking. He brushed his too ordinary brown hair out of his eyes. There wasn’t time to get a haircut. He turned his attention to the closet looking for something black to wear. Hearing footsteps in the hall, he quickly pocketed the fangs.
“Trying to put a costume together?” his mother asked. Without turning Tyler shrugged his shoulders and gave a low,
“Mom!” Tyler started backing away from her. David and Goliath? Great, just another reminder that he didn’t take after Dad—he was barely taller than she was. At least he didn’t inherit her freckles.
“You’re right,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m sure a lot of kids will go as David. I know! What about Phineas? All we need is a spear. I told you about Phineas right? When the Israelites left Egypt, God told them not to be—she struggled for the words—sexually active with the Canaanites...”
“Mom!” Tyler tried to will her to stop talking, stop talking.
“Now, honey, this is important. You’ve just turned fifteen, and I’m sure you’re discovering girls. You need to make the right life choices. I wish my mother had told me these sorts of things,” she said.
“Maybe your mother had the right idea.” Tyler turned away so he didn’t have to look at her. It had been bad enough last year before her conversion. She had placed two condoms on the kitchen table, and then it kept getting worse. He figured she’d read a book somewhere and was checking off items on a list: be responsible, you have urges, someone special. Then she had put one of the condoms on a banana to demonstrate. Tyler shuddered. This year it was fornication, and abstinence, and Phineas will drive a spear through you—like that wasn’t sexual. She was so embarrassing. She didn’t have to worry though, he was abstinent by default—and it wasn’t anything to be happy about.
There was a knock on the door. His mother let go of the sheet and turned to answer it. Tyler could hear her voice retreating down the hallway, “Okay, okay, I’ll let you come up with your own ideas. Hormones have sure gotten you touchy.”
“It’s not hormones!” Tyler threw the sheet into the closet. He was stupid to think he could put a costume together at home. Maybe he could go as the Devil; he was in the bible—Tyler snorted, like his mom would go for that. He could just imagine sneaking away from the Lock-in and crashing Michaela’s party dressed as David.
Random Jerk: What’s that in your hand loser? Is that a jockstrap?
Me: It’s a sling.
Random Jerk: [Laughter] Looks small enough for you.
“Ally’s here,” his mom yelled from the living room. He could hear them speaking, Ally’s voice rising over his mother’s.
“No thanks, Ms. Maltz, I had something to eat at home. Okay, Tina. No, no, really don’t go to any trouble. Um, I mean, yes, a cookie would be nice. Thank you.” Ally walked into Tyler’s room shaking her head slightly, holding two chocolate chip cookies. “Your mother said to give you one.” She handed him both cookies. His mother always thought Ally was too thin. So every time Ally visited, she had to run the gauntlet of offered sandwiches, potato salads, and whatever else his mom had in the fridge. It wasn’t that she didn’t eat; she was just always in motion. Her body had a hard time containing its own energy.
She sat cross-legged on his bed facing him, her blond hair peeking out beneath a baggy, green hoodie. Her smile was sympathetic. “Your mom still giving you a hard time about Halloween?”
Tyler shrugged, “It isn’t really about Halloween. It’s about my dad” He bit a cookie. “Sherry moved in with him last week.”
“They’re living together? I thought he said, he didn’t want to be in a relationship,” Ally said, unconsciously pulling on the hoodie’s strings.
“Yeah, I guess he just didn’t want to be in a relationship with us,” Tyler said, brushing cookie crumbs off the bedspread onto the floor. “I think this church thing is a reaction. Mom’s trying to change—be someone else. She’s manic.”
Ally was < absent mindedly> batting the model of the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln with her right hand. It had hung from Tyler’s ceiling since they first built it together when they were eight. The guns were crooked and the landing deck off-center. “Anyone might be manic when their marriage ends—anyway, all parents are manic.”
He told Ally about David and Goliath. “I need your help tomorrow.”
There's a great sense of realism and believable dialog herein Todd! Nice./Chris
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris