Comments For Is

hahaha ok I forgive you

But! I was young and stupid!

Quote:
It’s like you just sat down and said, “Well I am going to make Anna, a random, brooding girl, and she will be the Emo One. Then I will make Gabriel, and he will be the Colgate Total one. And I will make Shirley a husky, huggy and loud woman. Basically I will just label every character who comes into this story specifically,


Actually...yes, I did do that. And obviously it's not working, so I shall have to work on it!

*pats head* I'm sorry for insulting you.

I'm a cat

The kind of people who don’t exist, you mean?

It’s like you just sat down and said, “Well I am going to make Anna, a random, brooding girl, and she will be the Emo One. Then I will make Gabriel, and he will be the Colgate Total one. And I will make Shirley a husky, huggy and loud woman. Basically I will just label every character who comes into this story specifically,

So I am willing to bet that Colgate Total Boy ends up ####### Shirley and Eloise is secretely a drug addict and probably the dog will be demonically possessed.

Mwahahahahaha I am a great pally, it’s true. Also I have a lot of time on my hands.

The grassland looks to me it’s sort of like how they say the universe is- constantly expanding, constantly moving.

Shirley takes her right hand off the steering wheel and maneuvers it around the stickshift, resting it on my knee. It’s worn and cracked and a few of the fingernails are chipped in the corners, making them look sort of like mini-ski jumps.

The ski jumps bother me and I have to fight the desperate urge to wrestle my nail clippers out of my backpack and chop them down to cross-country proportions.

The word ‘darling’ triggers some sort of Hillbilly alert in my brain- which really isn’t fair to Gabriel, but then again…first impressions are everything. And Shirley does not give off a very good first impression herself. Trying to squelch the human urge to pre-sort, pre-package, and pre-label other people is like trying to give a cat a bath. It just doesn’t quite work out.

Clever

Shirley speeds up a little and the grasses fly by the sides of the truck with a soft whir until the road widens and up ahead I can see a house. A house Martha Stewart-types would call ‘quaint’, or ‘charming’; with its cute little veranda and crimson trim against cream wood siding. At the moment, to me it’s about as cute as the Gorgon sisters on ######.

WHY DOES THIS DUMBASS THING DO THAT????? THAT BOTHERS ME. The #### thingies, I mean. Hhahaha…nice description.

Shirley’s window makes a low humming noise as she rolls it down, indicating for the boy to come to her. He complies with a gigantically noticeable confident Zoolander-style swagger in his step.

And of course, he has to end with a hair flick- turning a signature homosexualist move into something that’s as straight as, well…a board.

Hahaha Zoolander…hehehe. Wow. You are having fun putting characters into their own specifically ordained boxes. More on that later.

A laugh? Yes, ‘Shirl’, he’s hilarious.

HAHAHA. Clever, clever…

My jeans are fairly plastered to the backs of my thighs from the three-hour sit-and-stare since the McDonald’s stop in Ogalala, and my fingers are still a little sticky from an incident with a ketchup packet missing the little crimped end- not exactly helping the inevitable fact that I’m going to have to deal with Gabey-Woo and his one-woman fan club until the distant future when my parents become something normal and safe- say librarians, or professional knitters- and don’t have to leave me behind, ever.

Don’t say “fairly.” Much too little house on the prairie. Sit-and-stare=good. Ogalala? Are you serious? Hahahaa. Librarians/knitters=funny

I’m praying there’s someone different, someone who doesn’t fit the College Football Fan/Sandhills Rancher mold in this family, even if it perhaps does turn out to be the dog.

Axe the “does” and add an S to turn. So it is Turns. Even if perhaps it turns out to be the dog.

Gabriel reappears on my side, dragging my cheap blue Walmart-purchased suitcase behind him, one of my backpacks slung over his shoulder. He stops and pulls open the side door, handle landing with a thud when it snaps back.

It’s Wal-Mart, if we’re specifying.

After you, mademoiselle,” he says with a Colgate Total-commercial-worthy smile. I’m going to have to try hard to find something to have to brood about now- he seems to be one of those ‘upbeat’ people, the people you’re not supposed to hate.

The kind of people who don’t exist, you mean?

“Excellent!” he exclaims, looking to be on the verge of hysterics.

I never knew that my name was amusing, but apparently out hturns around again and heads down the hall with me following along, watching with avid fascination as his bare feet leave little traces of foot-shaped dust on the carpet, sort of like in an old Scooby-Doo where the ghost leaves glowing shoe marks behind wherever he walks.

Thanks, Jiggy!

I most certainly will revise that sentence...it sounded awkward to me even as I was writing it.

And...oh dear. I really do have too many 'sort of's. Bad habit, perhaps?

(I have it as two threads just because I find it personally hard to sort through 35 or so pages of comments AND story- obviously, I haven't posted all of the stories that I've got set up like this, but they will eventually be that long. Plus, it's kind of cool to just be able to read it in book-like form, yeah?)

Thanks again (muchly)! I'm especially glad it was funny- I don't pull that off very well in my contemporary stuff. Nay, confusing, long-winded Shakespearean wit's the way for me.

Okay the way you've set it out is confusing...I dont like this two-thread business. But for the beginning of your story I have the following to say:

becoming a rusty blue speck a ten-mile radius of grassy wasteland.

The grassland looks to me it’s sort of like how they say the universe is

This drive is sort of being like sucked into a black hole

thinking, Heck, they’re better off now