Friday, February 23, 2007
Bar Talk
So, people when they meet me often ask, “How does one become the guy who removes people’s kidneys for sale on the black market?” and I shrug and I tell them, “Hell, I’m a product of my generation, that’s all,” or I say, “Hey, you know what? Maybe there were just too many mosquito eggs in the pond behind where we used to live. Too many reckless dives off the dock and they got backed up my nose and built up in the grey stuff in my head. Right, maybe that’s it.” They hear I swiped an organ or two out of some horny college kid who went to the wrong party last Saturday and they look at me like they don’t approve or something. They look at me like I’m one of those goddamned West African penis-shrinkers. You wanna hear some really weird shit, try having a conversation with one of those guys. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather lose a kidney than a few inches where it matters. Naw, I won’t mess with your corn dog. That’s not my style. Nobody ever comes in a hurry for an impromptu penile transplant at the last minute. Me, I’m just an honest, hardworking American who’s got an axe to grind with the prices of our beautiful nation’s health insurance. People need kidneys in this day and age, and sometimes you gotta go about getting them the hard kinda way. It’s a shame we live in a society where not just anybody can get the body parts they need, but hey, that’s where I come in. The great equalizer. Besides, there’s nothing quite like opening up somebody’s backside and getting right in there with your own two hands, all shiny and Latexed-up. You take one look at those beautiful bean-shaped sacks sitting in there and all you can see are big dollar signs on ‘em. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not greedy or nothing. I’m just after your kidneys, that’s all. I know fellas who’ll go after anything in there. Livers, colons, spleens, adrenal glands, you name it. Anything. Naw, I stick strictly to the pee processors, myself. I’ve got nothing but the utmost respect for my targets. Efficiency and Consideration, that’s the motto I live by. I always make sure he’s sitting on plenty of ice before I go, preferably in the bath if there’s one handy. And I always leave a note for when he wakes in the morning, thanking him kindly for his time and offering the number of a good health care provider in the area. What’s that you say? Oh yes, it’s always a him. I got a group of regular college girls I work with. Right beauties they are. Faces like angels, those ones. Weekends get pretty lucrative, I tell ya. You wouldn’t imagine the number of fellas willing to hop in the ride of a gaggle of giggling Barbie Dolls on a Friday night. So yeah, just about all the warm bodies they bring in are of the male persuasion. And as for the rest of my patients, well, not that many girls hang around bars in these parts. *BRAAAHP!* What are you having tonight, anyway, sailor? Alabama Slammers? No? Jäger Bombs? Ah, fine choice. The drink of a proud, hardworking American. Bartender, get this man another Jäger Bomber. This one’s on me. A couple more shots in ya and I reckon we could become right friends by the end of the evenin’.
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3 comments:
Quick nit-pick: you've got the word 'people' twice in the beginning of your opening sentence, and it weakens it a little. That being said, I thought your story was awesome, really funny... you had me laughing out loud in a couple of places (and cringing, too!) You've created a really strong character here in a short space- I get that he's rough and dark, all that. It also flows really nice; as an ex-theatre geek, I can tell you this would absolutely work as a monologue for stage performance. Nice job.
Bar Talk
So, people when they meet me often ask, “How does one become the guy who removes people’s kidneys for sale on the black market?” and I shrug and I tell them, “Hell, I’m a product of my generation, that’s all,” or I say, “Hey, you know what? Maybe there were just too many mosquito eggs in the pond behind where we used to live. Too many reckless dives off the dock and they got backed up my nose and built up in the grey stuff in my head. Right, maybe that’s it.” [take out the “right”?—overdoes the irony] They hear I swiped an organ or two out of some horny college kid who went to the wrong party last Saturday and they look at me like they don’t approve or something. They look at me like I’m one of those goddamned West African penis-shrinkers. [!!!!] You wanna hear some really weird shit, try having a conversation with one of those guys. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather lose a kidney than a few inches where it matters. Naw, I won’t mess with your corn dog. [funny] That’s not my style. Nobody ever comes in a hurry for an impromptu penile transplant at the last minute. Me, I’m just an honest, hardworking American who’s got an axe to grind with the prices of our beautiful nation’s health insurance. People need kidneys in this day and age, and sometimes you gotta go about getting them the hard kinda way. [not so sure about all the gotta, kinda, stuff. Maybe overdoing the vernacular. Makes the protagonist too obviously less than the reader and author, and I think that should come about through what he says instead of how he says it] It’s a shame we live in a society where not just anybody can get the body parts they need, but hey, that’s where I come in. The great equalizer. Besides, there’s nothing quite like opening up somebody’s backside and getting right in there with your own two hands, all shiny and Latexed-up. You take one look at those beautiful bean-shaped sacks sitting in there and all you can see are big dollar signs on ‘em. [here, the vernacular is working better] Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not greedy or nothing. [or nothing is probably too much] I’m just after your kidneys, that’s all. I know fellas who’ll go after anything in there. [fellas is too much] Livers, colons, spleens, adrenal glands, you name it. Anything. Naw, I stick strictly to the pee processors, myself. I’ve got nothing but the utmost respect for my targets. Efficiency and Consideration, that’s the motto I live by. I always make sure he’s sitting on plenty of ice before I go, preferably in the bath if there’s one handy. And I always leave a note for when he wakes in the morning, thanking him kindly for his time and offering the number of a good health care provider in the area. What’s that you say? Oh yes, it’s always a him. I got a group of regular college girls I work with. Right beauties they are. Faces like angels, those ones. Weekends get pretty lucrative, I tell ya. [I tell ya is too much] You wouldn’t imagine the number of fellas willing to hop in the ride of a gaggle of giggling Barbie Dolls on a Friday night. So yeah, just about all the warm bodies they bring in are of the male persuasion. And as for the rest of my patients, well, not that many girls hang around bars in these parts. *BRAAAHP!* [the burp is way too much] What are you having tonight, anyway, sailor? Alabama Slammers? No? Jäger Bombs? Ah, fine choice. The drink of a proud, hardworking American. Bartender, get this man another Jäger Bomber. This one’s on me. A couple more shots in ya and I reckon we could become right friends by the end of the evenin’. [last sentence is too much vernacular diction]
[I like it, it’s well written, the attitude works well, and the end-twist is okay, though maybe a bit expected. It seems very much the O. Henry pattern of surprise ending, and it’s plot instead of character based, which worries me. I’d like it better if you could resolve the story somehow by making this villain human to us….
Best, Tony]
This is great, Mike.
Putting yourself in the mindset of a black market organ stealer is pretty nutty, I must say so myself. And, although I've never stolen any kidneys, I am convinced that this is what an organ-stealer would think.
I was a little confused at the end when you were talking about the college girls that ride around with you. Are they bait for the to-be doners? If so, I think you could describe some interaction between the doomed men and attractive women.
Maybe you could add in a little history of the character, too. Saying, "And you wouldn't believe this, but one time..." and revealing something horrendous or sweet or funny... just to develop the character a little more. Not that I think he's lacking character -- I just think everyone could use a little more.
Also, as much as I hate to disagree with professors, I think that the burping scene in the middle of the dialogue is good times. It takes the reader back to the scene -- a shady little bar where organ stealers hang out. I also enjoyed the Yeger (I know that's spelled incorrectly) bombs being referred to as a good American drink. Little things like that really spiced up your story.
So, good job. I really enjoye reading it. Your sense of humor is great.
With love,
Kelly
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