Daylee's Dating Licensing

“Fail,” I muttered, stepping out of the piece of junk Michael called a car.
“Fail?!” he said, as if not expecting it. He scrambled out of his car, his half combed sandy blonde hair swishing across his face. “Fail?! Why did I fail? I can’t fail!”
“Yes, you did. And horribly, I might add.”
“What did I do wrong?”
I glanced at his vehicle, sending him the message.
“That’s it?! You can’t fail me because of how the car looks!”
“Michael, that’s not a car,” I said flatly. “Besides, that wasn’t your only mess up. Face it! You won’t be getting your dating license this time either!”
I stormed off down his driveway, reaching my beautiful sleek black Pagani Zonda F. I climbed in, shut the door, and lighted the ignition. Just as I reached for the gas, Michael’s face flattened against my passenger window.
“Wuo can’t do wis! Hlease gi’me anotha chance, Bwigit!" he pleaded.
"Oh yes I can," I smiled evilly and pressed on the gas peddal. “What a loser!” I laughed, speeding away.
Michael had done this test a countless number of times, and he still hadn’t given up. ‘He must really be in love’ I thought. I was the best employee of “Daylee’s Dating Licensing” where adolescents were tested on their dating skills. After so many years of dates gone wrong, the government decided it was time to get matters to hand. Many people agreed with the change. I was one of them. I had gone on so many crappy dates that I didn't even date anymore! Now, I was the head officer of the job I loved, which consisted in going on a pretend date and examine the boy's class. If they passed the test, they'd get their license. (It looked just like a Driver's License but, obviously, Driver's was changed to Dating) No couple could go out together unless the boy had a license. The license proves that the person knows exactly what their doing and how to make the date memorable – not in the bad way.
I didn't drive far to reach Daylee's; Michael's house was rather close to the mile long skyscraper. I entered through the double sliding glass doors and was greeted by May, my secretary.
"So, how'd he do?" she asked, carrying a notebook with red, brown, and tan lines on the cover. Her strawberry blond hair was wrapped into a classy bun and her nails, shining bright pink, had just been manicured.
"As usual, he failed," I answered, smelling nail polish mixed with her everyday La Coursae perfume, which she wore way too much of. I struggled not to cough.
"As usual," May agreed, scribbling in her notebook. "By the way, Mrs. Daylee wants to see you."
"Why?" I asked curiously.
She shrugged. I nodded and made my way to Mrs. Daylee's office. Once I reached it, a chestnut haired boy with cutely placed freckles and an expectant look hovered outside the door.
"Excuse me," I smiled politely.
He gave me an apologetic look and moved to the side, allowing me to pass through. There were way too many boys around here that thought getting this license was easy.
"Brigit Hampton!" a ladies voice exclaimed as soon as I had closed the door behind me. I fake smiled at her.
"Mrs. Daylee!" I exclaimed back, embracing her with a hug.
"Now, you know you're my best worker," she began. *Oh, great...this is going to be one of her long speeches!* "But," she said, frowning. "I have been getting a couple of nasty complaints about you."
"E-excuse me?"
"Well," she said, picking up a piece of paper. "This Michael Lukose kid just seems to have a problem with you. He says you're an incompetent fool and that you're at too young an age to be doing this. He also says - oh! I better not say that!"
"HE WHAT!"
"Yes. And, knowing you as well as I do, I'm sure that's not true."
"Thank you!"
"But, you are going to go through a 'training' I've just come up with!"
My mouth fell open and I stared at her with confused eyes. "But, you just told me you didn't believe him!"
"That's true. But if you're as good as you say you are, a little test won't hurt. Will it?" she asked, eyeing my suspiciously.
"O-of course i-it w-won't!" I stammered. "Bring it on! What do I have to do?"
"Max! Please come in!"
The door to the office swung open, revealing the most handsome guy I'd ever seen. He was around eighteen years old, exactly my age. His dark brown bangs hung just above his steady cobalt eyes which were surrounded by a flawless face. His body was that of an athlete, making it, well, perfect. He quickly flashed a smile at me. Amazingly, I managed to keep my composed and professional look.
"This is my son," Mrs. Delaynee continued. "Your test is simple, Brigit. You'll be going on a pretend date with him. If you pass, you keep your job. If you don't..." she glanced at her son. "Well, let's not think about that."
"Wait! Me?! On a date?! With your son?!" I shouted. He was good looking and all, but I had made a promise to myself to never date again! And anyway, what kind of test was this?!
"It's not a date," Max responded. "It's a pretend date."
Well, he might have had great looks, but maturity was quite questionable.
"Do it to keep your job," he continued. "Don't worry, I'm an easy grader."
Clearing her throat, Mrs. Delaynee nodded us towards the door. I hesitantly exited, Max standing inches behind me.
"You look nervous," he smirked.
I spun around, glaring into those wonderful eyes of his. "Look, boy, I promised myself I would never date again years ago. I'm not excited about this at all!"
"First of all," he noted. "I'm older than you, so don't call me boy. Second, I'm surprised you haven't dated in so long. You're really hot."
"How old are you?" I growled, getting quite irritated and ignoring his second comment.
"Eighteen," he smirked. "But I was born in July. Months before December."
"How do you know that?! Tell me!" I commanded, grabbing his shoulder.
He looked down at my hand and smiled,"Nice black polish."
Removing my hand, I repeated my question.
"You don't need to know."
"Yes I do! Answer me!"
"Your really cute when you're mad," he smirked.
"Can you do anything else besides smirk?" I shouted angrily.
"Well, I'm an awesome kisser."
At that moment I realized we where being watched. Looking around I saw employees, maintenance workers, secretaries, and even the younger boy who I had spoken to earlier was staring at us.
"Let's go," I muttered, grabbing his wrist.

******

"So...this is you're idea of an ideal date?" Max asked, looking around.
I sighed, looking at the sunset. We were sitting right in the middle of the park, eating ice cream. "Yes," I answered quietly. I had never given much thought to how I'd look or where I'd go on a date. Not after the many screwed up dates I had gone on. And the fact was, it had been with the same guy too!
"How boring!" Max complained. "Can't we go to a club or something?!"
"I don't like clubs," I lied.
"I can't believe you're my mom's best employee! You're so boring!"
"How much did she pay you?" I asked.
With a smirk he answered, "A couple hundred bucks. Why?"
"Figured it out a while ago. You're the boy that graduated with the highest score ever at Delaynee's. Or am I mistaken?"
"No, you're correct. And I've got to say your score will be so low that you be the one with the lowest score at Delaynee's!" He continued to smirk at me. "Unless..."
I jammed my ice cream cone into his face. "I DON'T want to hear the 'unless' part! Go ahead and fire me, if you want! I'm not someone who can be bought or pushed around!"
I practically dashed out of the park, holding my arms tightly around my chest. *I don't even want to THINK about what he might've said!*
Suddenly, a familiar piece of junk drove up to me.
"Need a ride?" Michael asked with his puppy-ish smile.
I rolled my eyes, looking straight at my house which was only one block away. I decided to go with him anyway - I didn't feel like walking. "Yes, thanks. I do."
So I heard you got fired," he said as I clicked my seat belt into place.
His engine roared as his car started up and I answered, "Yes. I did." *What's with everyone finding out about my private life?*
"Too bad."
I looked at his torn expression.
"Uh, why?! Now you'll get someone else to test you and you'll have a better chance of passing!"
His car screeched to a stop in front of my house.
"You mean, you've been failing me on purpose?"
"N-no! It's just that...that...." I scrambled for something in my brain that could help me. *Yes! I found it!* "I've known you for so long and I've had my experiences with your dates."
"Yeah..." he sighed.
I let out e breath and unbuckled my seat belt. As I reached for the door handle, Michael spoke softly.
"I'll miss you."
I froze and blinked.
"I can't keep this from you anymore!" he shouted, grabbing my hand in his. "I failed all those tests on purpose! I failed because I wanted to spend time with you. When I sent in complaints, I never expected for it to end up firing you! I'm sorry!"
I blinked a few more times before turning to meet his pleading eyes. With a smile, I pried my hand out from in between his and stepped out of the...vehicle.
The situation reminded me of the first time he'd asked me out. It was exactly like this. Minus the me losing my job and going on a ridiculous date with my ex-boss's son, that is.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I giggled. "Just like the first time."
"Ok," he answered. "Just like the very first time."

I understand it's choppy in some areas but I had to make this short and I was having a hard time with that...hope it's not too awful! I believe it's weird, though (and crappy...)






“Fail,” I muttered, stepping out of the piece of junk Michael calledDo you mean a car or is something actually called car? It should read:


stepping out of the piece of junk Michael called a car.

“Fail?!” he said, as if not expecting it. He scrambled out of his car, his half combed hair swishing around violently. “Fail?! Why did I fail?! I can’t fail!”

“Yes, you did. And horribly, I might add.”

“What did I do wrong?”

I glanced at his vehicle, sending him the message.

“That’s it?! You can’t fail me because of how the car looks!”

“Michael, that’s not a car,” I said flatly. “Besides, that wasn’t your only mess up. Face it! You won’t be getting your dating license this time either!”

I stormed off down his driveway, reaching my beautiful sleek black Pagani Zonda F. I climbed in, shut the door, and lighted the ignition. Just as I reached for the gas, Michael’s face flattened against my passenger window.

“Wuo can’t do wis! Hlease gi’me anotha chance, Bwigit!" he pleaded.

With an evil grin I shook my head and pressed on the gas peddle.

“What a loser!” I laughed, speeding away.

Michael had done this test a countless number of times, and he still hadn’t given up. ‘He must really be in love’ I thought. I was the best employee of “Daylee’s Dating Licensing” where adolescents were tested on their dating skills. After so many years of dates gone wrong, the government decided it was time to get matters to hand.Okay, we want more information. Why did the government want adolescents to become better daters? We need more information which we have not yet been provided with. Many people agreed with the change. I was one of them.Why were you one of them? We need more information again. I had gone on so many crappy dates that I didn't even date anymore! Now, I was the head officer of the job I loved, which consisted in going on a pretend date and examine the boy's class. If they passed the test, they'd get their license. (It looked just like a Driver's License but, obviously, Driver's was changed to Dating) No couple could go out together unless the boy had a license. The license proves that the person knows exactly what their doing and how to make the date memorable – not in the bad way.That sentence is a tad awkward. I'd replace it with

How to make the date memorable - in a good way.

I didn't drive far to reach Daylee's; Michael's house was rather close to the mile long skyscraper. I entered through the double sliding glass doors and was greeted by May, my secretary.

"So, how'd he do?" she asked, carrying a notebook with red, brown, and tan lines on the cover. Her strawberry blonde hair was wrapped intoIt is not technically placed inside a classy bun so I'd ust have:

She asked, carrying a notebook with red, brown, and tan lines on the cover. Her strawberry blonde hair was wrapped in a classy bun. a classy bun and her nails, shining bright pink, had just been manicured.

"As usual, he failed," I answered, smelling nail polish mixed with her everyday La Coursae perfume, which she wore way too much of. I struggled not to cough.

"As usual," May agreed, scribbling in her notebook. "By the way, Mrs. Daylee wants to see you."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

She shrugged. I nodded and made my way to Mrs. Daylee's office. Once I reached it, an adolescentHm, that's kind of stating the obvious, evidently if this place is for adolescents then it will be an adolescent boy that hovers outside the door, maybe just have a boy boy with an expectant look hovered outside the door.

"Excuse me," I smiled politely.

He gave me an apologetic look and moved to the side, allowing me to pass through. There were way too many boys around here that thought getting this license was easy.

"Brigit Hampton!" a ladies voice exclaimed as soon as I had closed the door behind me. I fake smiled at her.

"Mrs. Daylee!" I exclaimed back, embracing her with a hug.

"Now, you know you're memy best worker," she began. *Oh, great...this is going to be one of her long speeches!* "But," she said, frowning. "I have been getting a couple of nasty complaints about you."

"E-excuse me?"

"Well," she said, picking up a piece of paper. "This Michael Lukose kid just seems to have a problem with you. He says you're an incompetent fool and that you're at too young an age to be doing this. He also says - oh! I better not say that!"

"HE WHAT?!"

"Yes. And, knowing you as well as I do, I'm sure that's not true."

"Thank you!"

"But, you are going to go through a 'training' I've just come up with!"

My mouth fell open and I stared at her with confused eyes. "But, you just told me you didn't believe him!"

"That's true. But if you're as good as you say you are, a little test won't hurt. Will it?" she asked, eyeing my suspiciously.

"O-of course i-it w-won't!" I stammered. "Bring it on! What do I have to do?"

"Max! Please come in!"

The door to the office swung open, revealing the most handsome guy I'd ever seen. He was around eighteen years old, exactly my age. His dark brown bangs hung just above his deep sea blue eyesSea blue eyes are too boring. How about azure, cobalt, cornflower, cyan.... which were surrounded by a flawless face. His body was that of an athlete, making it, well, perfect. He quickly flashed a smile at me. Amazingly, I managed to keep my composed and professional look.How does she know? Was there a mirror nearby?

"This is my son," Mrs. Delaynee continued. "Your test is simple, Brigit. You'll be going on a pretend date with him. If you pass, you keep your job. If you don't..." she glanced at her son. "Well, let's not think about that."

"Wait! Me?! On a date?! With your son?!" I shouted. He was good looking and all, but I had made a promise to myself to never date again! And anyway, what kind of test was this?!

"It's not a date," Max responded. "It's a pretend date."

Well, he might have had great looks, but maturity was quite questionable.

"Do it to keep your job," he continued. "Don't worry, I'm an easy grader."

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Delaynee nodded us towards the door. I hesitantly exited, Max standing inches behind me.

"You look nervous," he smirked.

I spun around, glaring into those wonderful eyes of his. "Look, boy, I promised myself I would never date again years ago. I'm not excited about this at all!"

"First of all," he noted. "I'm older than you, so don't call me boy. Second, I'm surprised you haven't dated in so long. You're really hot."

"How old are you?" I growled, getting quite irritated and ignoring his second comment.

"Eighteen," he smirked. "But I was born in July. Months before December."

"How do you know that?! Tell me!" I commanded, grabbing his shoulder.

He looked down at my hand and smiled,"Nice black polish."

Removing my hand, I repeated my question.

"You don't need to know."

"Yes I do! Answer me!"

"Your really cute when you're mad," he smirked.

"Can you do anything else besides smirk?" I shouted angrily.

"Well, I'm an awesome kisser."

At that moment I realized we where being watched. Looking around I saw employees, maintenance workers, secretaries, and even the younger boy who I had spoken to earlier was staring at us.

"Let's go," I muttered, grabbing his wrist.


******


"So...this is you're idea of an ideal date?" Max asked, looking around.

I sighed, looking at the sunset. We were sitting right in the middle of the park, eating ice cream. "Yes," I answered quietly. I had never given much thought to how I'd look or where I'd go on a date. Not after the many screwed up dates I had gone on. And the fact was, it had been with the same guy too!

"How boring!" Max complained. "Can't we go to a club or something?!"

"I don't like clubs," I lied.

"I can't believe you're my mom's best employee! You're so boring!"

"How much did she pay you?" I asked.

With a smirk he answered, "A couple hundred bucks. Why?"

"Figured it out a while ago. YourYou're not your the boy that graduated with the highest score ever at Delaynee's. Or am I mistaken?"

"No, you're correct. And I've got to say your score will be so low that you be the one with the lowest score at Delaynee's!" He continued to smirk at me. "Unless..."

I jammed my ice cream cone into his face. "I DON'T want to hear the 'unless' part! Go ahead and fire me, if you want! I'm not someone who can be bought or pushed around!"

I practically dashed out of the park, holding my arms tightly around my chest. *I don't even want to THINK about what he might've said!*

Suddenly, a familiar piece of junk drove up to me.

"Need a ride?" Michael asked with his puppy-ish smile.

I rolled my eyes, looking straight at my house which was only one block away. I decided to go with him anyway - I didn't feel like walking. "Yes, thanks. I do."

So I heard you got fired," he said as I clicked my seat belt into place.

His engine roared as his car started up and I answered, "Yes. I did." *What with everyone finding out about my private life?*

"Too bad."

I looked at his torn expression.

"Uh, why?! Now you'll get someone else to test you and you'll have a better chance of passing!"

His car screeched to a stop in front of my house.

"You mean, you've been failing me on purpose?"

"N-no! It's just that...that...." I scrambled for something in my brain that could help me. *Yes! I found it!* "I've known you for so long and I've had my experiences with you'reYour not you're dates."

"Yeah..." he sighed.

I let out ea not e breath and unbuckled my seat belt. As I reached for the door handle, Michael spoke softly.

"I'll miss you."

I froze and blinked.

"I can't keep this from you anymore!" he shouted, grabbing my hand in his. "I failed all those tests on purpose! I failed because I wanted to spend time with you. When I sent in complaints, I never expected for it to end up firing you! I'm sorry!"

I blinked a few more times before turning to meet his pleading eyes. With a smile, I pried my hand out from in between his and stepped out of the...vehicle.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I giggled. "Just like the first time."

"Ok," he answered. "Just like the very first time."

Okay; some of it was good. But a lot of it needs revising. You noticed that yourself, but don't be too harsh, it was good. We need some more information in parts, why did the government want this dating licensce? Why did she believe it was a good idea? Why? If you include more aspects like this it will make your characters more believable . You need some more character development and plot development. Go to the knowledge base and you'll find a lot of helpful tips Some parts were good though, keep up the good stuff and good luck
-Kirsten xxx
_________________

It is edited!!!

Hi there!

This is a really cute story. I just happened to glance over it, then decided to read the whole thing. It makes for a nice short story. You're right, it definitely needs work, but you have all the potential here. Just needs polishing.

Overall suggestions:
- Avoid melodrama (being overdramatic) and hyperbole (being over-the-top).
- Eliminate unnecessary dialogue descriptions.
- Keep it simple!

A few examples:

“Fail?!” he said, as if not expecting it. He scrambled out of his car, his half combed hair swishing around violently. “Fail?! Why did I fail?! I can’t fail!”

What you're trying to get across here is good, but you're trying too hard. Double punctuation is a little much. And stuff doesn't usually swish violently. I'd change it to this:

"Fail?" he cried, shocked. He scrambled out of the car, previously neat hair now ruffled. "Fail? How could I fail? I can't fail!"

I glanced at his vehicle, sending him the message.

"Looked pointedly" might be better. I mean, it's kind of a dumb adverb, but "sending him the message" is so bulky...

“Michael, that’s not a car,” I said flatly. “Besides, that wasn’t your only mess up. Face it! You won’t be getting your dating license this time either!”

Too many exclamation points! When you use it too many times, your characters just sound excited! Overenthusiastic! Rather than severe! Which is what I think you were going for here!

“Wuo can’t do wis! Hlease gi’me anotha chance, Bwigit!" he pleaded.
With an evil grin I shook my head and pressed on the gas peddle.
“What a loser!” I laughed, speeding away.

Sooo over-the-top. She could have run over his foot! And it's pedal, not peddle.

She shrugged. I nodded and made my way to Mrs. Daylee's office. Once I reached it, a chestnut haired boy with cutely placed freckles and an expectant look hovered outside the door.
"Excuse me," I smiled politely.

I get what you're trying to say, but "cutely placed"? It's too much.

"HE WHAT?!"

Double punctuation strikes again! And the capitalized stuff makes me think she's shrieking, which makes me think she's a spaz. I'd just settle for some nice italics on the 'what' and leave it at a question mark.

"Wait! Me?! On a date?! With your son?!" I shouted. He was good looking and all, but I had made a promise to myself to never date again! And anyway, what kind of test was this?!

Hokay, check it out:

"Wait! Me? On date? With your son?"

You can still tell she's upset/disoriented, but it's not quite so much.

So yes! Those are just a couple of examples, but you can apply my main gripes to the whole piece. Keep editing; I think this could be a really fun story when it's all finished.

(Not a review.)
This story is made of awesome. I was too enraptured to try finding fault with it. If I could, I would vote this to win the unlikely contest, hands down. It has everything! Dynamic set-up, interestingly exaggerated characters, and, of course, a fast-paced writing style not bogged down by useless description.

I like. I like muchly.