I read a story by John Gardiner a little (or long depending on when you read this) while ago, and decided I should try to write another one. My first one ended up like ?an Ovaltine commercial... but a funny one.? Bear in mind, I am not going to plan out any of this and write as I go along, so it may not be what you might call traditionally ?good.? And so, the story begins...
::Based on fictional events that indeed never happened but where fathomed up in the great...ly spacious mind of Smitty-boy::
?What?s with those damn hippos?? Jake thought to himself. He followed up his original thought by wondering why it is that after $15 to get in here just to see the hippos, and after coming countless times, they never seem do anything. ?How am I going to write a book about hippos if all I can write is ?Hippos love to sit, and do nothing.??
?Fucking move already!? is what he yelled aloud, making a few nearby children cry, old ladies gasp, and security escort him off of zoo property.
Just like that, his dream to write a book about hippos came crashing down. He put his hands in his pocket and went to his favorite coffee shop to decide what he should write about next. All he knew, is that it wasn?t going to involve hippos.
3 months later his hopes of writing a book ended when he died an ironic death when he fell into the hippos area. It was mating season and he was killed in a very embarrassing and probably very painful death from bleeding to death.
Rob, a salesman at the zoo Jake?s rape-death, and although disturbed and slightly traumatized by witnessing it, wrote a best selling book about the experience.
In one week he went from peanut salesman to millionaire author. He sold the rights he had to the book and a movie was made about that fateful day at the zoo. It was a hit, and Rob made even more money. Being Nuevo-riche, he spent all his money carelessly, married a super-model, and bought a mansion in San Francisco.
One day he was moving a bookshelf, but because he was lazy, he didn't take any of the books off their respected shelves. The bookcase was too heavy and it tipped over, crushing him. One of the books was impaled into his skull, ?The wonderful world of hippos.?
?That?s your story??, screamed the producer.
The writer, James, just hung his head and mumbled a few words under his breathe. He was a kindly and gentle person with no spine at all. He wanted to tell Mr. Green that he didn?t have enough time to think of something remotely good, but even if he could work up the courage to say something he wouldn?t have been able to get a word in through all the yelling.
He was fired, and on his way out everyone gave a look that said ?Sorry, we all heard. We?ll miss you.?
James went outside to find he received a parking ticket, and his radio was stolen. He drove home in silence. No thoughts, except of those of his girlfriend, went through his head. All he wanted to do was be with her. That was the only thing that mattered to him right now. He knew she?d help him through this, like she has before.
He arrived home to an empty house. He knew it was relatively early, so she might not be home for an hour or two, depending on how traffic is. He called her apartment every hour, but no body picked up. He waited there, watching TV, eating chips. He kept waiting for hours, calling at random times, until the phone rang.
He prayed it was his girlfriend, and it was. ?Well at least she?s OK.? he thought.
She had called to say she was thinking about breaking up. She went to his office to bring him lunch, and that?s when she heard he was fired. ?I can?t be with a man who can?t support me. You can never hold a job for more than 2 months. If we?re going to get married then you need a steady job, and you can?t have a job as a writer for magazines.? She said goodbye and hung up.
He tried calling back, but she didn?t pick up. Finally, he went to her place and
found a note on her door. It said ?I?m going away for a while to think about things. I?m sorry, I don?t know if I?ll be coming back. If I do, I don?t want to see you.?
He was crushed. His thoughts varied between homicide, suicide, or both. He
eventually gave up and accepted the fact his life was in shambles. On the drive home he tried to rationalize everything, he could get a new job, pay the ticket, meet someone new. His life wasn?t that bad. He never listened to the radio much anyways.
When he turned the corner to his street he saw flashing lights, and fire. ?Son of a bitch!? he said aloud. Thankfully it wasn?t his house on fire, but his neighbors. He stood in the street watching his neighbors house burn in awe.
?Well, at least my house isn?t on fire.? he thought to himself as he consoled his neighbor who was currently watching all his worldly possessions burn themselves into nothingness.
His neighbor had no insurance for his house, furniture, etc. He had no money in his bank account, and had been unemployed for a month. He didn?t wimp out on his
homicidal or suicidal urges and hostily took control of a bank. After killing two tellers upon entering, a seven hour standoff began between himself and the police. James was in the bank at the time and tried to talk his former neighbor down. He was about to be shot by him when police snipers took action and killed him. James witnessed 3 people die that day.
Oddly, he felt no pity for any of them. This might be because he went clinically
insane, though. ?They say it was from all of the stress. I say it was from the aliens, but I have yet to obtain proof of any kind that the aliens actually exist. The gnomes agree with me, but they always agree with me so I stopped listening to them, except when they tell me to kill.? That was the answer he gave as to why he is the way he is. He now resides in a padded room with a nice view of the park.
Wow, that was pretty bad. Sorry about the gnomes thing, but they said they wanted to be in my story. I always listen to them, they?ve never steered me wrong, except that one time. Who knew a few fires would get people so angry. I feel kind of bad I drove James? neighbor to madness, but it was really the gnomes fault. Really, it was.
The end... again.
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