I just finished editing this and I would like some feedback on it so I thought I would post it. Its a little long but I'll be really grateful if anyone feels like reading the whole thing and letting me know what they think! Derton Dickson didn't intend to get so drunk tonight. When he woke up next to Olivia this morning, he had every intention of giving her all the hours of his day. In the haze of his hangover one thing about the previous night stuck out clear as glass to him: Olive's sweet voice turning shrill as these words launched angrily like torpedoes out of her mouth: “Fuck you, Dert. You love this stupid bottle of Evan Williams so much? Can it love you back, you fucker? Can it love you back?” He contemplated that question as his eyes fell on his beloved bottle of Evan sitting below him on the floor. It was open and practically empty save for an inch of murky black liquid and a few cigarette butts sitting in the bottom. He caught a whiff of the pungent odor and turned away wincing. “It can't love me back, Olive Branch,” he whispered tenderly. He snuggled against Olive's bare back and imagined the day stretching out in front of him: sex, lunch, afternoon sex, holding her in his arms while he slipped in and out of consciousness during the NASCAR race. He grabbed her breast absently as he contemplated ending the day with a nice bubble bath, sex, and maybe a beer before bed. He suddenly felt the day would not be bad at all. He slipped back into sleep and dreamed of rubbing a loofah over her supple, tight body while they reclined in a tub of running water. One could, when given the benefit of hindsight, theorize that this dream marked the beginning of the day's downward spiral. “Dert?” “Hmm?” Derton woke and buried his head into her hair, trying to swim back to the dream. He rubbed her breast, picturing a loofah full of soapy water caressing the same spot. “Dert!” Her shrieks brought him out of his reverie. “What the fuck, Derton? Why is the fucking bed wet?” She jumped up and grabbed a towel off the floor, rubbing furiously at the dampness on her body. “You just fucking pissed. You pissed all over my new sheets. What the hell is wrong with you?” Dert lifted his head, amazed. “I was dreaming of running water.” “Oh my god,,” Olive yelled, throwing the towel at his face. “You're almost fucking thirty.” The day did not begin with morning sex. They did, however, make it to lunch. Dert practiced his hangdog expression all morning, performing his best sad eyes whenever he felt Olive's angry eyes flash towards him. When he felt his stomach rumble he walked behind Olivia in the kitchen where she was washing last night's whiskey glasses. “I'll let you choose the restaurant if you want to get some lunch with me, babe. My treat,” he offered as he hugged her from behind. “You're a dick,” she snapped, turning and pushing him away. “But if you finish these dishes, I'll think about letting you buy me some pizza at Two Bert's” “Anything for you, Olive Branch,” Dert offered gallantly. “I shouldn't be doing them in the first place.. You're not going to get drunk, are you?” “Of course not, babe. Its our day today.” Dert cheerfully attacked the dishes, whistling a tune while he ran a quick sponge around the rim of the glasses. He looked forward to lunch, pleased with Olivia's choice. Two Bert's was a shabby pizzeria with exactly two things going for it: It had a large selection of beers on tap, and it was in walking distance of their house so he could take full advantage of the tap without the worry of a potential DUI ruining his time. Of course, the latter was a non issue on this particular day. He made a silent declaration that he would enjoy just one beer to ensure enough sobriety to fully relish the pre-Nascar sex. They walked to the restaurant hand in hand. Dert was relieved as he listened to Olivia's animated chatter. Whatever sins he had drunkenly committed the night before seemed to be forgotten. As they sat down at the table, Olivia flashed him a huge grin and leaned over to peck his cheek. “I'll have a Guinness,” Dert told the perky brunette waitress a few moments later, testing his luck and Olivia's good mood. He glanced at his girlfriend beneath his lowered eyelashes and found she was still smiling. Dert felt himself relax. He silently congratulated himself for being on his best behavior and showing Olivia such a good time. Unfortunately, his mellow mood did not last long. Dert sensed he was running into trouble when the first Guinness went down much too smoothly. Derton glanced at Olive's wine glass, which from his vantage point she was downing entirely too slowly. He hoped and prayed she ordered another glass of wine so he could find justification in another beer. The waitress bought the pizza over to their table. “Do y'all need anything else?” she smiled. Derton glanced at his empty beer glass. The first beer had been a perfect hair of the dog, cutting through his toxin-filled body with the efficiency of an ancient alchemist's potion, a poison becoming medicine when used in a small dose to cure the very ailment a large dose would cause. Derton determined there was only one problem with his first Guinness It was only one Guinness To hell with it, thought Dert. “I'll have another Guinness,” he told the waitress as he struggled not to glance at her ample bosom under Olive's penetrating gaze. “Another beer?” Olive leaned over and hissed in his ear. “How did you not have enough to drink last night? Its not even one o'clock yet.” “This pizza is going to sop up all the alcohol in my stomach, Olive Branch. I won't have any left in me after I eat this. Besides, studies have shown women can have up to one alcoholic beverage a day with purely beneficial health benefits, and men can have two.” He sat back and offered a self-satisfied grin. Olive glared through green eyes narrowed into slits. “Alcoholics can't have any drinks,” she said evenly. “Babe,babe, its okay. “How is it okay?” Olivia asked, already exasperated. “I'm going to have one more beer then I'm going to take you home and love the hell out of of you before the NASCAR race. So relax. Eat,” he commanded as he placed a slice of pizza on her plate. “Why do you have to be such a redneck sometimes? Fucking NASCAR? Seriously? Like thats supposed to get me ready for whatever plans you have for us?” “Come on, Olive. You know I have my routine on Sundays. NASCAR and naps. If you want to do the things you like to do, its gotta be any day but Sunday.” “Oh yeah. When I have you to myself again, 500 months from now. Can't wait.” Olive was a beautiful girl, with dark waves of hair framing green cat eyes. Generally, Derton really enjoyed looking at her face. However, Dert did not find her beautiful when she glared at him like this, shooting daggers into his brain. He examined the contents of his glass. The Guinness was disappearing much, much too quickly. When the waitress came back to check on them, he suddenly saw no reason why he had to stop at two beers. “Another Guinness, please.” He emphasized the request with a wave of his pointer finger, studying the empty plate in front of him to avoid Olive's eyes. “And on that note, I'm leaving.” Olive's tone was level and as chilled as he anticipated his brand new Guinness would be. . Derton did not engage in afternoon sex, either. Derton felt a twinge of regret as he watched her bottom, clad in short denim shorts that drove him wild, wiggle out the door. However, Dert was not one to waste time on regret. As soon as the waitress set his third beer in front of him, he turned his attention to more important matters. He flashed the waitress a smile and picked up his cell phone, hoping his friends would be free. “Hey man, Mike. I'm down at Two Bert's I'll order a large pizza and a round of Guinness, call everyone else, I'm almost out of minutes.” “Did Olivia leave you there again?” came the voice on the other end of the line. “Man, its not like she left me. I'm right down the street from my house. She wanted to go do her thing, I wanted to stay here and hang out until the race. Are you coming, man?” Mike showed up within half an hour, along with Bustah and Chaz. . Mike and Bustah brought their girlfriends in tow, making Derton tear up a little inside. “Whats wrong, Dert?” Mike's girlfriend Kairo's sassy voice rang out with a hint of amusement in it. “Nothing, 'Ro. I'm just kind of bummed. You're so cool, ya know? You're always just hanging with the guys without being a bitch about it. Olive just gets so upset sometimes because I like to party a little.” Bustah's girlfriend Rosie frowned across the table. “Olive isn't a bitch. You don't like to just party, dude. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you have a p-r-o-b-l-e-m.” “You aren't the one to break it to me.” “Great, as long as you're aware. Lets get a pitcher of beer!” The cheerful group sequestered off a small area of Two Bert's and chatted and laughed and drank for hours. This is why, when Derton finally stumbled home at 6 that night to watch the NASCAR race that came on at 7, he was quite drunk. His six friends came with him, which also explains why they were so loud entering the house. Derton shushed the group as he groped the doorknob with his key. After a few failed attempts he collapsed into Mike's arms and laughed, a loud guffaw streaming from his gut. Bustah shook his head in amusement and gently prodded the key from Dert's hand. As they walked in everyone held their breath, waiting for Olivia to unleash her anger on Dert. “I hope you guys stopped by the liquor store,” Olivia called out, her voice breaking the silence. “Wait, who am I talking to?” She laughed along with the rest of the room. “Derton, pour me a shot. Pour me four, actually. I gotta play catch up.” “Olive Branch, you're too cool sometimes,” Dert proclaimed as he put his girlfriend in a headlock. “Get the fuck off me. You can't even stand still.” “Gotcha.” Derton took several shot glasses down from the cabinet and poured the shots for Olive, She took them in quick succession, letting out a primal scream as she pounded the last empty shot glass on the table. “God, Dert. I was so mad at you, but honestly I see why you drink this shit all the time. I was pissed but its like the alcohol is a liquid numbing solution. I can't feel my anger!” The group cheered loudly in response to this, clicking their glasses together and smiling at the internal glow that comes from drunken fellowship. Dert glanced at the clock and widened his eyes in surprise. “Shit guys! Its time!” . He quickly raced over to the TV and switched it on. The room immediately filled with the guttural sound of engines revving, The other guys looked at each other and shook their heads, disappearing down the hallway. They returned with guitars in hand. “We gotta drown this shit out, you redneck,” Chaz said affectionately as he begin plucking at the worn out guitar he was carrying. Bustah and Mike quickly joined in, ignoring the television as Dert plopped himself two inches away from the screen and watched like an eager kid during Saturday morning cartoons. Olive twirled around the room with Rosie and Kairo. She smiled as she lost herself in the beat, seeming not to notice Derton drinking at 100 miles an hour past the town of Wasted and into Belligerent Territory. The night carried on like this, with Olive focused on music and Derton not really focused on anything. In fact, Derton was so unfocused that when he got up to use the bathroom, he somehow confused Mike's guitar case with the toilet. This mistake was first noticed by none other than Mike himself, who promptly grabbed Dert by the throat and punched him in the forehead. “What the hell, man? Why are you pissing in my guitar case?” Mike did not raise his voice often, so when he did it attracted attention. The room went deadly silent for a couple of beats. Then Olive let out an exasperated scream as she noticed the yellow liquid seeping out of the guitar case. Mike shot her a look of pity and turned to the drunk man struggling for balance in front of him. . “Jesus, man. You've got a great girl. You're a creative genius. You could do anything you want, do you realize that? You could do anything in the world and it seems like all you want to do is piss where you aren't supposed to.” As Mike spoke, the anger left his voice and he sounded only sad for his friend. Derton's head tilted towards the floor, looking appropriately ashamed but also way too cock-eyed to understand what was going on. “Just buy me a new guitar case, man. Throw that one out. Sorry Olive,” Mike said, touching her arm as he opened the front door. The rest of the group followed suit, smiling tenderly and apologetically at Olive, their sad cat-eyed friend, as they shuffled through the door. “Ah, fuck. I'm the dumb girl that stays with him,” she responded by way of goodbye. When the group left, Dert stumbled over to Olive and tried to hug her. “Olive Branch. Don't be mad at me,” he slurred. “No! Get the fuck off me!” she screamed as she pushed Dert away, a day's worth of fury exploding from her small frame in one thrust of the arms. Dert stumbled and tried to catch himself, but his extreme blood-alcohol level rendered him unable to coordinate his limbs.. One leg went in front of the other as he stumbled across the room, reaching for and missing every possible object that could save his balance. At last, his left foot failed to go in front of his right and instead got caught up somehow on his right calf, and he toppled to the floor like a wounded animal. As he landed, Dert found himself covered in a very familiar substance. As coldness crept through his body, he felt his vision come into focus and realized he was lying inside Mike's wet and acrid-smelling guitar case. Derton Dickson started his day out with such high hopes, but various life lessons had taught Dert a thing or two about the best laid plans of men. And so Dert's day did not end with a bubble bath and sex.
A few specific comments before I get into my general thoughts: Bustah?? "The day did not begin with morning sex" Could be worded a bit better; you have the quirky Mark Twain thing going on, and this line blandly stands out Olive glared through green eyes narrowed into slits. “Alcoholics can't have any drinks,” she said evenly. It might be better if you put evenly before the line; as a reader, I took it to be much more angrily delivered at first, and when that happens it tends to take the reader out of the story a bit. “God, Dert. I was so mad at you, but honestly I see why you drink this shit all the time. I was pissed but its like the alcohol is a liquid numbing solution. I can't feel my anger!” Doesn't sound realistic; I would suggest rewording it more subtly. As the Robot-Devil once said, "You can't just have your characters announce how they feel. That makes me so angry!" And finally: I really enjoyed the story a lot. It was very unpredictable (except for the foreshadowed parts) and original. There were a lot of parts in the beginning that intrigued me, made me ask questions, that were quickly answered them -- great for hooking. (Such as why he was cheery after a seemingly shitty morning) The characters were very well written and the dialogue seemed really realistic, especially Dert and Olivia's. The narration is what came through and really made the story work great though. I really would describe it as a feminine Mark Twain (with less, but equally strong wit). But I do think you should space it out more if you hope others to read it =P
thank you duck! you always give great critique...I think i'm blushing at the mark twain compliment I'll take everything you said into account when I edit it again oh, and as for Bustah...I'm still working on the names. Derton Dickson's name is a play on the name of my friend that I based the story on, and Bustah, who I plan to feature as a main character in another story, is also kind of a play on the person he is based on, but I'm still playing around with all the names except Dert's.
Great continuity, smooth enjoyable read, good dialogue, I was interested in the characters throughout. My only advice/criticism is the ending seemed a bit abrupt and superficial. It kinda felt like you weren't entirely sure how you wanted to finish the story. I'd dump the last two sentences and really get inside Dert's head as he's lying there in his own piss... or even extend his realizations to later, when he's sobered up but still in the depths of despair. Does Dert really feel the weight of his actions or is he too far gone? Really great work Meliai, keep it up! ZW
thanks! I'm working on a short story serial about derton dickson so i'll probably post another story soon. thank you! I've edited it a little since I posted this so the ending is a little different but I do like your idea about exploring whether or not Dert feels the weight of his actions. I might have to tweak the ending a little more
I thought I would post this again after some editing, and also space it out a little for easier reading haha. My dog actually chewed up the power cord to the laptop that the newest version is on, so I can't access that, but this is pretty much the same except the ending is a little less fleshed out in this. Derton Dickson didn't intend to get so drunk tonight. When he woke up next to Olivia this morning, he had every intention of giving her all the hours of his day. In the haze of his hangover one thing about the previous night stuck out clear as glass to him: Olive's sweet voice turning shrill as these words launched angrily like torpedoes out of her mouth: “Fuck you, Dert. You love this stupid bottle of Evan Williams so much? Can it love you back, you dick? Answer me! Can it love you back?” He contemplated that question as his eyes fell on his beloved bottle of Evan sitting below him on the floor. It was open and practically empty save for an inch of murky black liquid and a few cigarette butts sitting in the bottom. He caught a whiff of the pungent odor and rolled over wincing. “It can't love me back, Olive Branch,” he whispered tenderly. He snuggled against Olive's bare back and imagined the day stretching out in front of him: sex, lunch, afternoon sex, holding her in his arms while he slipped in and out of consciousness during the NASCAR race. He wrapped his arm around her as he contemplated ending the day with a nice bubble bath, sex, and maybe a beer before bed. He suddenly felt the day would not be bad at all. He slipped back into sleep and dreamed of rubbing a loofah over her supple, tight body while they reclined in a tub of hot, bubbling water. One could, when given the benefit of hindsight, theorize that this dream marked the beginning of the day's downward spiral. “Dert?” “Hmm?” Derton woke and buried his head into her hair, trying to swim back to the dream. He rubbed her stomach absently and pictured rubbing a loofah over the same spot. “Dert!” Her shrieks brought him out of his reverie. “What the fuck, Derton? Why is the fucking bed wet?” She jumped up and grabbed a towel off the floor, rubbing furiously at the dampness on her body. “You just fucking pissed. You pissed all over my new sheets. What the hell is wrong with you?” Dert lifted his head, amazed. “I was dreaming of running water.” “Oh my god,,” Olive yelled, throwing the towel at his face. “You're almost fucking thirty.” *** The reality of Dert's morning did not live up to his expectations. He curled away from the wetness in the bed and helplessly watched his morning leak wash his dreams away. By lunchtime Dert managed to salvage his plan like a raft made out of a shipwreck. He diligently practiced his hangdog expression all morning, performing his best dejected expression whenever he felt Olive's angry eyes flash towards him. When he felt his stomach rumble he hunched his shoulders, fixed a wide eyed, dejected look on his face, and trudged towards the kitchen where Olivia was washing last night's bourbon glasses. “I'll let you choose the restaurant if you want to get some lunch with me, babe. My treat,” he offered as he hugged her from behind. “You're a dick,” she snapped, turning and pushing him away. Dert slowly ambled out of the kitchen, pausing at the threshold. He waited a beat and it came as expected. “But if you finish these dishes, I'll think about letting you buy me some pizza at Two Bert's” “Anything for you, Olive Branch,” Dert offered gallantly as he sauntered back to Olivia and pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “I shouldn't be doing them in the first place.. You're not going to get drunk, are you?” She wriggled out of his embrace and slapped a wet sponge in his hands. . “Of course not, babe. Its our day today.” Dert cheerfully attacked the dishes, whistling a tune while he ran a quick sponge around the rim of the glasses. He looked forward to lunch, pleased with Olivia's choice. Two Bert's was a shabby pizzeria with exactly two things going for it: It had a large selection of beers on tap, and it was in walking distance of their house. This meant Dert could take full advantage of well-crafted beer without the worry of a potential DUI. . Of course, the latter was a non issue on this particular day. He made a silent declaration that he would enjoy just one beer. This would ensure enough sobriety to fully enjoy his girlfriend before the Nascar race. As they walked to the restaurant with steps made jaunty by cool, crisp air, Olivia slipped her hand into Dert's. . Dert emitted a breath of relief as he listened to Olivia's animated chatter. Whatever sins he had drunkenly committed the previous night seemed to have risen with the morning fog and evaporated in the brilliant October sun. As they sat down at the table, Olivia flashed him a huge grin and leaned over to peck his cheek. “I wish I could stay mad at you, Dert. For some reason I just love you, my retard.” “I love you too, Olive. I'm really glad-” Dert paused as his peripheral vision caught movement. “I'll have a Guinness,” Dert told the perky brunette waitress a few moments later, testing his luck and Olivia's good mood. He glanced at his girlfriend beneath his lowered eyelashes and found she was still smiling. “Um, I'll have a glass of Pinot Grigio and then we want to get the white pizza,” she ordered next, turning her smile back on her boyfriend as the waitress nodded and walked away. Dert felt himself relax. He silently congratulated himself for bestowing upon Olivia the gift of a boyfriend who made time for his girlfriend, who walked hand in hand with her on sunny days, treated her to pizza and wine, and kept his own drinking to a respectable and moderate level. He knew Olivia deserved at least that, at least. He swallowed her small hand with his and turned his face to the sun, smiling with pleasure. Unfortunately, his mellow mood did not last long. Dert sensed he was running into trouble when the first Guinness went down much too smoothly. Derton glanced at Olive's wine glass, which from his vantage point she was downing entirely too slow. He silently crossed his fingers under the table, willing her to order another glass of wine. Two glasses of wine before one o'clock certainly justified ordering another frothy, heady Guinness The waitress bought the pizza over to their table. “Do y'all need anything else?” she smiled. Derton glanced at his empty beer glass. The first beer had been a perfect hair of the dog, cutting through his toxin-filled body with the efficiency of an ancient alchemist's potion, a poison becoming medicine when used in a small dose to cure the very ailment a large dose would cause. Derton very quickly determined there was only one problem with his first Guinness. It was only one Guinness To hell with it, thought Dert. “I'll have another Guinness,” he told the waitress as he struggled not to glance at her ample bosom under Olive's penetrating gaze. “Another beer?” Olive leaned over and hissed in his ear, her smile now wiped completely clean from her face. “How did you not have enough to drink last night? Its not even one o'clock yet.” “This pizza is going to sop up all the alcohol in my stomach, Olive Branch,” Dert ventured. “I won't have any left in me after I eat this.” His eyes fluttered to meet hers and found hard granite. He swallowed and bravely continued, “Besides, studies have shown women can have up to one alcoholic beverage a day with purely beneficial health benefits, and men can have two.” He sat back and offered a wobbly yet self-satisfied grin. Olive glared through green eyes narrowed into slits. “Alcoholics can't have any drinks,” she said evenly. “Babe,babe, its okay. “How is it okay?” The words escaped Olivia's mouth in exasperation. “I'm going to have one more beer then I'm going to take you home and love the hell out of of you before the NASCAR race. So relax. Eat,” he commanded as he placed a slice of pizza on her plate. “Why do you have to be such a redneck sometimes?” Olivia demanded. “Fucking NASCAR? Seriously? Like thats supposed to get me ready for these apparent romantic plans you have for us?” “Come on, Olive. You know I have my routine on Sundays. NASCAR and naps. If you want to do the things you like to do, its gotta be any day but Sunday.” “All I want to do is hang out with you one full day without you getting piss drunk. I don't care about Nascar, but nothing good is going to happen before or after that ridiculous race because you're going to sit here and keep drinking and you're going to get drunk.” Olive was a beautiful girl, with dark waves of hair framing wide, tilted green eyes. Generally, Derton really enjoyed looking at her face. However, Dert did not find her beautiful when she glared at him like this, shooting daggers into his brain. Dert avoided eye contact with her as he shoved a piece of pizza into his mouth and washed it down with several large gulps of beer. He examined the contents of his glass. The Guinness was disappearing much too quickly again. When the waitress came back to check on them, he suddenly saw no reason why he should stop at two beers. The very notion seemed ridiculous. “Another Guinness, please.” He emphasized the request with a wave of his pointer finger, studying the empty plate in front of him to avoid Olive's eyes. “And on that note, I'm leaving.” Olive's tone was level and as chilled as he anticipated his brand new Guinness would be. *** Derton realized his plans were derailing again but he felt powerless to fight the inertia of a locomotive. “Olivia, I was going to stop at two beers, but you're already mad at me because you based your feelings on an assumption. If I was going to stop at two beers to avoid your anger and your assumption led to anger anyways, why the hell wouldn't I order another beer? What kind of idiot would that make me? Come on, please sit down.” “I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to watch you kill yourself today.” A twinge of regret pierced Derton's guts as he watched her bottom, clad in short denim shorts that drove him wild, wiggle out the door. However, not being one to waste time on regret he turned his mind to other matters. Flashing the waitress a smile as she set another beer in front of him, he picked up his cell phone in hopes that his friends were free. “Hey man, Mike. Listen to me, buddy. I'm down at Two Bert's, alright? Now, here is what I want you to do. Call everyone else. No minutes on my phone. Get on down here and keep your friend Derton company. Can you do that for me?.” “Did Olivia leave you there again?” came a voice and a laugh from the other end of the line. “She didn't leave me here, dude. I'm a free man. I made a choice to stay here because that is my right as afforded by the United States Constitution and given power by the sovereignty of the United States of America.” “Dude, you got left,” Mike snorted as he hung up. Mike showed up within half an hour, along with Bustah and Chaz. . Mike and Bustah brought their girlfriends in tow, making Derton tear up a little inside. “Whats wrong, Dert?” Mike's girlfriend Kairo's sassy voice rang out, a hint of amusement peppering her tones. “Nothing, 'Ro. I'm just kind of bummed. You're here, you know? You're pretty cool. Olive just gets so upset sometimes because I like to party a little. I just wish she would hang out and not be a bitch..” “I knew she left you, man.” Mike snickered. Bustah's girlfriend Rosie frowned across the table. “Olive isn't a bitch. You don't like to just party there, guy. I hate to be the one to break this to you, but you have a p-r-o-b-l-e-m.” “You aren't the one to break it to me.” “Great, as long as you are aware, my friend. Lets get a pitcher of beer!” The cheerful group sequestered off a small area of Two Bert's and chatted and laughed and drank for hours. This is why, when Derton finally stumbled home at 6 that night to watch the NASCAR race that came on at 7, he was quite drunk. His six friends came with him, which also explains why they were so loud entering the house. Derton shushed the group as he groped the doorknob with his key. After a few failed attempts he collapsed into Mike's arms and laughed, a loud guffaw streaming from somewhere deep inside. Bustah shook his head in amusement and gently prodded the key from Dert's hand. As they walked in everyone held their breath, waiting for Olivia to unleash her anger on Dert. “I hope you guys stopped by the liquor store,” Olivia's voice broke through the silence, sounding surprisingly sweet and cheerful. “Wait, who am I talking to?” She laughed along with the rest of the room. “Derton, pour me a shot. Pour me four, actually. I gotta play catch up.” “Olive Branch, you're too cool sometimes,” Dert proclaimed as he put his girlfriend in a headlock. “Get the fuck off me. You can't even stand still.” “Gotcha.” Derton took several shot glasses down from the cabinet and poured the shots for Olive, She took them in quick succession, letting out a primal scream as she pounded the last empty shot glass on the table. “Damn, I really gotta drink to deal with you, Dert. Thank the lord you guys finally brought me some alcohol. This stuff is awesome sometimes.” The group cheered loudly in response to this, clicking their glasses together and smiling at the internal glow that comes from drunken fellowship. Dert glanced at the clock and widened his eyes in surprise. “Shit guys! Its time!” . He quickly raced over to the TV and switched it on. The room immediately filled with the guttural sound of engines revving, The other guys looked at each other and shook their heads, disappearing through the door that led to the bedrooms and the spare room filled with countless broken bongs and the group's musical instruments. They returned with guitars in hand. “We gotta drown this shit out, you redneck,” Chaz said affectionately as he begin plucking at the worn out guitar he was carrying. Bustah and Mike quickly joined in, ignoring the television as Dert plopped himself two inches away from the screen and watched like an eager kid during Saturday morning cartoons. Olive twirled around the room with Rosie and Kairo, smiling as she lost herself in her friends' music. She did not appear to notice Derton drinking at 100 miles an hour past the town of Wasted and into Belligerent Territory. The night carried on like this, with Olive focused on music and Derton not really focused on anything. In fact, Derton was so unfocused that when he got up to use the bathroom, he somehow confused Mike's guitar case with the toilet. This mistake was first noticed by none other than Mike himself, who promptly grabbed Dert by the neck of his Ratt tour '88 t-shirt and punched him in the forehead. “What the hell, man? Why are you pissing in my guitar case?” Mike did not raise his voice often, so when he did it attracted attention. The room went deadly silent for a couple of beats. Olive pierced the silence with an exasperated shriek as she noticed the yellow liquid seeping out of the guitar case. “Damnit, Dert!” Mike shot her a look of pity and turned to the drunk man struggling for balance in front of him. “Jesus, man. You've got a great girl. You're a creative genius. You could do anything you want, do you realize that? You could do anything in the world and it seems like all you want to do is piss where you aren't supposed to.” As Mike spoke, the anger bellowed then fell flat as melancholy and worry overtook his voice. Derton's head tilted towards the floor, looking appropriately ashamed but also way too cock-eyed to understand exactly what was happening. “Just buy me a new guitar case, man. Throw that one out. Sorry Olive,” Mike said, touching her arm as he opened the front door. The rest of the group followed suit, smiling tenderly and apologetically at Olive, their sad cat-eyed friend, as they shuffled through the door. “Ah, fuck. I'm the dumb girl that stays with him,” she responded by way of goodbye. When the group left, Dert stumbled over to Olive and tried to wrap his unsteady arms around her. “Olive Branch. Don't be mad at me,” he slurred. “No! Get the fuck off me!” she screamed as she pushed Dert away, a day's worth of fury exploding from her small frame in one thrust of her arm muscles. Dert stumbled and tried to catch himself, but the high alcohol content flowing through his veins in a slow takeover of his entire circulatory system rendered him unable to coordinate his limbs. One leg went in front of the other as he stumbled across the room, reaching for and missing every possible object that could potentially save his balance. He stumbled the distance of the room until, during one fateful step, his left foot failed to go in front of his right. Instead it found itself caught up somehow on his right calf and he toppled to the floor like a rather big-boned toddler. Dert found himself surrounded by a very familiar substance as his body crashed to the floor with a reverberating thud. .As coldness crept through his body, his vision slowly came back into focus and he realized he was lying inside Mike's wet and acrid-smelling guitar case. *** Derton Dickson started his day out with such high hopes, but he had learned a thing or two about the best laid plans of men in his 29 years of pissing where he was not supposed to piss. He slowly lifted himself out of Mike's guitar case, grimacing as his hand touched wetness when he tried to balance himself. He stood up and walked woodenly towards the back door where he would remove his clothes and wash himself off with the icy cold water from their garden hose, a ritual in which he was not entirely unfamiliar. “I'll make it up to you, Olives,” he mumbled with his head down as he slipped out the door. “Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you will,” Olivia murmured tonelessly as she picked up Mike's guitar case and chucked it outside, splashing the remaining contents of the case on Dert's skinny, pale naked body.
That was great. I actually felt awkward as fuck and embarrassed just reading the part with Olivia and Dert in the pizza shop. Really great dialogue, it read very naturally and realistic. You really got the small parts of the situation, such as Dert's behaviour and his thought process when it came to his drinking. It felt very real. It really added to the awkwardness when you could tell what his agenda really was. My favorite line was, "By lunchtime Dert managed to salvage his plan like a raft made out of a shipwreck." It's very Bob Dylanesque. Great story
