Second Chances never Last

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm Knight Hardy here on a mission to ensure that all works on YWS has at least two reviews. You will probably never see this but....Imma do this anyway.

First Impression: Well this was a pretty cool story. There was some really great description, a fun little cliffhanger and the humor that runs through the whole thing with the narrator is amazing. The start kind of had a little bit of weirdness to it that I haven't quite figured out but it is mysterious and the rest of it is just amazing.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Look I know you don’t care and never will, if I died you wouldn’t care and when I actually died inside you pretended to care. I smile at that the liars are praised for truth and the truth tellers are shut up and dusted away as common courtesy. I cannot stand it, yet life itself cannot be replaced so once you have lost it, it is sad to say that you, my dear chapling, are screwed.

The old man of a train huffed and puffed his way into Holly’s Brooke station, the black smog blended with the irreplaceable local one and made such a stench that even the locals were not used to it. You see Holly’s Brooke was a station that was near no Brooke and if it was there was certainly no girl named Holly or any growing around it. If there was any holly it would be killed by the stench and we wouldn’t want that would we? Well, what if there was a girl named Holly who lived in let’s say Utah who fell into a Brooke and her sick brother, lets call him Fred, moved near here and decided to call the area Holly’s Brooke because he was a sick old man who lived alone in a one room house. Well no matter let us get back to the description of the cruddy part of town shall we? Mainly men filed out in their dusty overcoats while few had dawned ties and suits, their grim demeanor matching the unpleasant weather of today’s perfectly grey clouds with a side of dry smog. Well if it was clouds or smog, not even the locals knew really.

The men scattered to their own separate routes of the unknown and business like nature, a certain plump man with a red baby face made it to the nearest coffee stand ordering the Largest of everything with extra whip cream on, well everything. He snatched the bag from the poor woman with a huff of unpleasant air, and walked out of the train station, his royal-ness wallowed out the exit and across the street, making a few morning drivers pissed as hell you see but he kept walking a sipping his large Espresso truffle. He eventually made his way to the tall building that looked like any other corporate building and strutted his fat self across the long tiled floor, he reached out reveling his sweaty armpit which could have woken your dead auntie and might have actually rivaled the stench outside, he clicked down although he was on the first floor and waited impatiently making the hall echo with his exaggerated sighs.

Stepping in the bowling ball of a man pressed the button under all of the buttons and sipped his espresso again, making the droplets scatter to the rims of his mouth as fleeing refugees. The elevator dinged finally as the man stepped out to floor thirteen and motioned to the secretary at her post.

“Don’t call me that,” she flicked her blond pony back and didn’t look up to meet the fat man’s glare, “Oh and by the way the boss came to see you Chuck,”

Chuck became rigid and dropped his bag of sweet delicacies; they spread across the floor with separate little thumps.

Chuck lept through the door way at a pace you thought he would never move.

“Mr. Satano!” Chuck tried to lighten the mood to only flash a bleak smile, “You look better than ever!”

“Isn’t it obvious? This person wants a second chance at life!” with this Satano bit the air.

The old man of a train huffed and puffed his way into Holly’s Brooke station

(does this mean that the train was old? I would rework the sentence a little

but if thats what you meant I like the idea of what you're trying to do her.

Just needs to be a little more clear.)

You see Holly’s Brooke was a station that was near no Brooke and if it was

there was certainly no girl named Holly or any growing around it. (Again, a

little hard to chew but I really like where you're going with this line. Just

make it a little less wordy.)

“Don’t call me that,” she flicked her blond pony back and didn’t look up to meet the fat man’s glare, “Oh and by the way the boss came to see you Chuck,” (just change it to a period at the end)

“don’t be an idiot Chuck,” (capitalize the 'D')

I like what you're doing with this. With the grand exaggerations and random tangents used throughout the introduction you have a funny and clever story begginging here. Keep writing!