Darkly, a Solution

Darkly, a solution:
Run. Take nothing with you. Have yourself one of those all-American road trip, because soon you'll have... Responsibilities.

So you burst out of there in a car older than you are and you drive forever, fueled on energy drinks, until your old relic of a car, to which you've grown tremendously attached, sputters out on Highway 68 in Who-Gives-a-Fuck Kentucky; and soon you're huddled at a payphone calling Mom and Dad, a veritable prodigal son, and they're mad,sure, but they pay for your flight home to that cozy Connecticut 'burb in which your dreams withered in the first place.

Eff that. You're too proud for that ill-fated road trip. A different escape, then; for you that flickering, mysterious underworld, a world of street-corners, back rooms and back alleys, a world of new poeple and new secrets. You start small; a toke here, a pill there, but even when you started you knew how sticky this web was, and before you know it the sly spider of that underworld is eating off your head in some drimy storeroom under PJ's Fish Taco place.
"Addict," sniggers you psyche.

No? Too much a prude for the drug scene? For you, then, this lame escape.
You sit hunched over a notebook, scribbling. A boy takes off on a road trip; oh the adventure of it! Then a new notebook, a girl: she drowns slowly in a disease-ridden but oh-so-compelling drug underworld. You've got talent. Words suit you. But sitting there, slowly developing carpal tunnel, your spirit whispers: "Coward. Prude. Yuppie."
This is the only escape you deserve.

Iiiii approve. Dark, bitter, mature. The choppy beginning is the perfect lure to the second paragraph where you take your time to pick apart some stupid fantasy like a bad teacher spitting at the class clown.

Just a quick note.

...sniggers you psyche.

"...sniggers your psyche" I imagine you mean.

Did you actually mean to call PJ's Fish Tacos "drimy"? Because who cares if it's not a word? The style of the prose lends itself to the ability to make up words as long as the context lets us figure it out. If it's a typo, though, then make that "grimy."

It's short, so there's not much to critique. Also, not much I dislike about it, so even less. Bravo.

Haha, that's awesome.

The whole thing is quite bitter. You've bluntly insulted your reader, and done it in a way that's so brilliant you can get away with it; I love it!

I don't really understand what "Darkly, a solution" means, but that's what drew me in to the piece in the first place, so I guess it works.

If you can keep the same wit and spark in a longer piece, you're well on your way
-Ten

I took it more as amusing than dark, but I have quite a cynical sense of humor. I especially love that you wrote this in second person, because it's hard to do for many people. So good job. The only critique I have is your sentence structure. In your second paragraph you managed to fit the whole paragraph into one sentence when it could have been at least two sentences. I know semi-colons can kind of act like periods, but since you're introducing a relatively new idea, I personally think that a period would have been better. The punctuation throughout the whole thing would be something to revise in my opinion. As for the story and the writing itself, I have no critique. It was wonderful and well depicted. Nice job.

Comments in red.

carelessaussie13 wrote:Darkly, a solution:
Run. Take nothing with you. Have yourself one of those all-American road trisp, because soon you'll have... responsibilities. Ick. Ellipsis for dramatic effect is a no-no. And in this case it doesn't work. I'm also not too sure about your breaking the fourth wall, but never mind. I'll let it pass.

So you burst out of there in a car older than you are and you drive forever, fueled on energy drinks until your old relic of a car, to which you've grown tremendously attached, sputters out on Highway 68 in Who-Gives-a-Fuck Kentucky; Ah, this is a second-person story. Hm. So far so good. and soon you're huddled at a payphone calling Mom and Dad, a veritable prodigal son, and sure they're mad but they pay for your flight home to that cozy Connecticut 'burb where your dreams withered in the first place. The last line is a little long and hard to get through. Chop it up.

Eff that. You're too proud for that ill-fated road trip. A different escape, then; for you that flickering, mysterious underworld, a world of street-corners, back rooms and back alleys, a world of new poeple and new secrets. Let me be clear: I like the way you put the whole bad choice thing. But I don't like the way the sentence is structured grammatically because it's wrong. You start small; a toke here, a pill there, but even when you started you knew how sticky this web was, and before you know it the sly spider of that underworld is eating off your head in some grimy storeroom under PJ's Fish Taco place. So far, I'm liking this.

"Addict," sniggers you psyche. You psyche? Are you trying to say your psyche?

No? Too much a prude for the drug scene? For you, then, this lame escape.
You sit hunched over a notebook, scribbling. A boy takes off on a road trip; oh the adventure of it! Then a new notebook, a girl: she drowns slowly in a disease-ridden but oh-so-compelling drug underworld. You've got talent. Words suit you. But sitting there, slowly developing carpal tunnel, your spirit whispers: "Coward. Prude. Yuppie."
This is the only escape you deserve.

Pretty good, IMO.

More of a drabble, not really a short story I think. It's the only nitpick I have.

Sincerely,

Kara