thanks, but I think I’ll Stay with the slang.
Short Story / Coach (Analysis)
“So, tell me once again where you were Tuesday night around ten o’clock,” Officer Plymon says to me once more as he stands in the corner of the small, windowless room.
Bringing my hands to my face, I run my fingers through my shortly-cut, brown hair. To the two arrogant, small-town policemen, this is a simple sign that the exhaustion of the interrogation is wearing me down, but these two jackasses haven’t got a clue. I could tolerate this shit for a lot longer than Andy and Barney here can dish it out.
Let me tell ya something about small-town, southern cops. Two types of individuals wear badges around here. First, there is that guy in school that everyone fucked with and no, I’m not talkin’ about the scrawny little band geek that everyone was sure was gay. The guy I’m talkin’ about is that one that was in the scouts from the time that he was old enough to stand on his own and take a piss without his mother coaxing him with a handful of Skittles. The guy who constantly looks for that smile of approval from his father in everything he does. You know the guy.
Second, is the football jock that sat the bench as a walk-on with some third-rate state college and was left with nothing after graduation. You’ve seen him. Walking the halls of high school with that asinine strut that tells everyone around that this guy thinks he’s the baddest mother-fucker to ever grace your school with his presence. His whole miserable existence is football and it takes the sackless pussy half of his college bench-sitting career to realize that he has no future. I think you get the picture.
So here I am, sitting in the room with these two pole-smokers, one of which has decided that he is gonna make up for every beating he ever took by hiding behind his badge as he dishes out the same form of bullying on the citizens of his great town and the other just wants to continue being the big man on campus. Neither of these probable cross-dressers has a clue to what’s going on in my mind.
“Okay, but ya might wanna write it down this time, TJ Hooker, cause I ain’t sayin’ it again,” I respond flatly, resulting in a stern kick to my chair by Officer Garner. Just in case I haven’t told ya yet, this hairy-lipped fuck is the scout.
“Ya better check your attitude, asshole,” he tells me in his best bad-cop voice.
“Sorry, guys. I’m just a little tired is all,” I reply, dropping my arms on the tiny table in mock surrender. “Now, what was the question again?”
“Where were you at around ten o’clock on Tuesday night?” Plymon asks again after allowing a give-me-a-break expression to blow across his pudgy face.
“Sitting in my room and editing my manuscript,” I reply. “My wife was in bed beside me. Just ask her.”
“We’ll get to that later,” Plymon says. “Now, when was the last time you saw Dustin Drain?”
“Tuesday evening around seven-thirty. That’s when my daughter’s softball game ended.”
“Look, Todd, we know that you and Dustin had issues over the softball team and that he went behind your back and informed all of the parents about your probation,” Plymon says as he leans against the other side of the table.
“And we also know about your military background too,” Garner chimes in with a shitty little tone to his squeaky voice and even Plymon appears disgusted by his partner.
“Look, guys, I have no idea where Dustin is,” I say with an aggravated tone. “Do I think that the guy is a chicken-shit little coward that probably lays out on his back while that bitch wife of his gives his asshole a workin’ out with a twelve-inch, black strap-on? Yes, but that doesn’t mean that I did anything to the guy.” I aggressively sit back in the hard, metal chair and focus my gaze on Lymon’s green eyes.
“I’ve been out of the Army for thirteen years and I’m on probation for child support,” I state matter-of-fact like. “There’s no way that I would do something stupid to the guy over a child’s sport. Now, can I have my things back so that I can go, or am I gonna have to sue this chicken-shit department for harassment and abuse?”
Lymon continues to look into my icy stair and he knows that I’m right. No matter how dumb this speed-trap pussy is, he knows that he has to let me go. He knows that they’re reaching here and that his only option is to let me go. That doesn’t mean that he’s gonna take his eyes off of me, but I could really give a rat’s ass. I just need a beer and a smoke.
Sitting on the front porch of my house, I gently sip my beer and smile as the police car slowly cruises down the street. It’s been two days since I sat in that little square room and allowed those two idiots to clumsily pick at my brain, but they still continue to let their presence be known. Do I care? Fuck no. My life continues on as usual. I just get a nice little police escort everywhere I go. My wife is a bit annoyed by it, but my kids think that it is kinda cool.
I remove my feet from the railing of the porch and rise to my feet. With a deep inhale of the mild, country air, I turn and walk back into the house. After tossing the empty bottle into the trash and replacing it with a fresh one from the frig, I wander down the hall and wrap on my daughter’s door with my knuckles.
“Thirty minutes, honey,” I yell through the wooden barrier.
I then casually make my way through the kitchen and out the back door. Stopping at the edge of the patio, I kneel over to pick up a rubber dog toy and hurl it across the yard before continuing on to the shop. I Walk through the side entrance and over to a tool shelf that I easily slide to the side after depressing a nail under one of the lower shelves. Behind the shelf, rests a door to a stairway that leads to a lower room under the shop. The Army may not have paid worth a shit, but the books that I write about it sure as hell do, affording me nice little playthings like this.
At the bottom of the stairs, I flip a switch to activate a series a fluorescent lights and walk to the back of the room. I smile broadly at the man chained to the wall as he struggles with his vision under the sudden and painful glare of the lighting. The bruises on his face have turned a nice shade of black now and the blood has crusted nicely, forming some thick, pussy scabs over some of the more serious lacerations. What can I say? When I have fun, I have fun.
After finally regaining his focus, the man stairs back at me with confusion and fear in his reddened brown eyes. I love this shit. The poor fucker really is scared shitless. Taking my eyes away from his, I walk over and check the intravenous fluid drip that is connected to his arm. I still have a lot more fun planned for my cowardly little friend. I can’t have him dyeing on me now.
“How ya hangin’ in there, Dustin?” I ask, rubbing him playfully on the head. He begins to breathe heavily and flinches at the action. “Relax, buddy, I’m not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna show ya that it’s smart to consider just exactly who you’re dealing with when you start fucking with people.” I reach into the cargo pocket of my shorts and retrieve a pack of Camels, lighting a smoke before I continue.
“Take me for instance. You thought that all of your pre-law schooling made you smarter than me and that you could just go say whatever you wanted to try and keep me away from YOUR team. You never took into consideration just how stupid that might be.” I rub him on the head once more. “Always research your target, Dustin.” I turn and walk back to the base of the stairs, turning to look back.
“Well, I gotta go, man. Have a game to coach,” I say, flipping off the light and slowly climbing the stairs. “I’ll let ya know how it goes.”
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FrakKevin reviewed Version 1 -
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I liked this plot, but not the main character. He just seemed a little bitter and was putting everyone who wasnt him. I thought this was cool though I wished you would continue with it. I liked your description of the cops…you went back and pointed out people in high school that I forgot existed. So it was cool pairing up them with people I actually know. You know to switch up his insults thought…it was like gay joke after gay joke. Grammar wise this would cool and I enjoyed it.
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jakuper reviewed Version 1 -
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“Bringing my hands to my face, I run my fingers through my shortly-cut, brown hair. “—but your hair is on your head, not your face.
“Second, is the football jock that sat the bench “—should be “Second, is the football jock that sat on the bench ”.
(,) means adding a comma:
“has decided that he is gonna make up for every beating he ever took(,) by hiding behind his badge(,) as he dishes out the same form of bullying on the citizens of his great town(,) and the other…”
I waited for something more dramatic in the end. But yours is good enough.
The story is nice, but to heavy on slang for me.
ameliaamuso reviewed Version 1 -
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“Let me tell ya something about small-town, southern cops..” -> Let me tell YOU something about.. don’t use slang, even if it is to emphasise a accent. And it could be reworded slightly, perhaps ‘I’ll tell you something about..’ Just a suggestion.
Obviously the slang was widespread throughout that peice, but other than that it was a good read.
rollingbolus reviewed Version 1 -
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Hi there, if you work on the dialogue and concentrate on showing rather than telling you could have a pretty good piece here. It’s a believable scene with believable characters and a good ending.
here’s a few things I found:
exhaustion of the interrogation is wearing me down --- take out ‘the’
great town and the other just --- comma between town and and
Sitting in my room and editing my manuscript --- take out ‘and’
And we also know about your military background too --- uso ‘also’ or ‘too’ not both
you often tell the reader how the protagonist feels rather than just showing them, like these:
I say with an aggravated tone— you can tell from the dialogue he’s aggravated
I aggressively sit back --- how do you do this? slam your back into the chair? build the tension in other ways, try to avoid too many adverbs
I state matter-of-fact like --- again, here you’re telling
my icy stair --- stare
With a deep inhale of the mild --- inhalation, or, ‘taking a deep breath of…’
frig --- fridge?
wrap --- rap
I then casually make my way --- take out ‘casually’
I kneel over to pick up --- kneel down? bend down? lean over?
dyeing --- dying
flinches at the action --- take out ‘at the action’ as we already know why he’s flinching
good luck with this
wisedec4u reviewed Version 1 -
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This was excellent. You are certainly talented writer. There was only one typo that stood out that—”I [W]alk through the side entrance..” should be lower case w. I also didn’t think the word pussy was really necessary in this sentence…”forming some thick, [pussy] scabs over some the more serious lacerations.” Love the way you led the reader to believe the narrator was just some innocent family being harrassed. Great characterization of the two cops doing the interrogations. The way you described their personalities put vivid picture in my head. The best part was how you built the suspense at the end at his made his way to his shop and the underground room where he was holding the coach prisoner. I have absolutely nothing bad to say about this piece. You hit every mark on the head as far as I’m concerned and I hope to read a more expansive work by you in the future.
knelson reviewed Version 1 -
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really criptic and dark. nice job focusing on details like hairy lip and green eyes and the lighting in rooms.
Jelissa_Jones reviewed Version 1 -
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I know this was just venting, but there doesn’t seem to be much to connect the reader to the plot. There needs to be more details. Even though we don’t know that the Coach has the guy in the begining you can tell more of the story through conversation with the cops. Let the guy flashback to conversations with the missing guy or have the cops ask specific questions. Also how does the military background tie in? A lot of people have military back grounds, but that wouldn’t be a point the cops would bring up unless there was something specific in the background. Also the whole part of knowcking on his daughter’s door doesn’t seem to have much importance.
JDCLytle11 reviewed Version 1 -
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i love your characters.the main character amuses me.
oknapp reviewed Version 1 -
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I like the Andy and Barney line. Maybe you should say but this ain’t Mayberry just to refresh them in case some don’t know who they are.
“to look into my icy stair.” Do you mean stare?
“remove my feet from the railing of the porch and rise to my feet.” I remove my feet from the railing, stand up and inhale a breath of fresh country air. Now you an start a new sentence. Yiu have feet twice. This might make it smoother.
I” can’t have him dyeing” Dying.Very nicely done. What might have added to it is showing the argument that you had with the guy. People could have seen why you were angry, then you could have built up to how you captured him. I liked the ending it came as bit of a shock. Good work, Sandi
gemglitter reviewed Version 1 -
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Comments: You left me wanting more, so bravo! I love your tag lines, the way they just add to the piece naturally, and not the boring “he said, she said.” I also like how you have the story in present tense. The ending, one word, awesome!
Suggestions: Just three, first your description part you have after you have the character knock on his daughter’s door is a bit dragging I would shorten it a bit. Also you have “confusion and fear” I don’t get a mental image of this, how does Dustin look up. Do his eyes dart up then some grimace? Show the fear. Finally, I would have more of a reason of why he was angry in the end. I know you have how Dustin told people about the suspension and how he wanted to coach but that just seems a little blah. I didn’t feel the anger in the story about it. Maybe, Dustin was the high school baseball captain, who couldn’t really play well but whose daddy bought the position and the main character was the one who should have been captain??
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