Monday, November 18, 2013

Please, Laugh at My Expense

I want to share something awful with you guys today. Don't worry, it's not a disease. It's a really awful novella I wrote when I was a teenager. You see how much I love you? I give you bad teenager writing I scrounged out of closet. It's a little long, but totally worth it, I promise.

Here's the run-down. It's the second in a trilogy I planned about three brothers (gee, I must have a thing for brothers). The first novella is missing, so I'm grasping at straws here, but apparently there was a war and the brothers were heroes. Their names are Stylus (I guarantee I did not know what a stylus was in, let's say 1996), Thyne, and Tristan (shut up, those don't sound anything like Wystan, Eban, and Tell...okay, maybe a little). Sty's wife either died before the war, or during it, or...something. One of them had a horse, I remember there being a painting of it on the wall. They all live together because their houses were destroyed in the war, or something. They're from Texas because I was a little bit obsessed with that state when I was in HS after my parents talked about vacationing there and then it never happened. Here's the crap-tastic blurb. Please enjoy Death Trap II: Invasion at my expense. My current thoughts are in red and parentheses.

The 23rd century, the year is 2225, two years since the death of Drake Night (insert groan here) and the army, Dark Knights ('kay, I was really into the Dark Knight show on Sy-Fy. Shut up). Things had been pretty normal for the Hope brothers (another groan. Really? Hope? C'mon). Until a week after the two year anniversary of Drake Night's death (repetitive much?). Then, a superior race of superhumans, who called themselves the Droins (rhymes with groins, teehee—actually, I think I tried to pass that off as Droy-ans), wants to take over the earth. Thyne, Sty, and Tristan know they must stop the Droins (wait for their reaction in the story...it's brilliant!). But perhaps the Droins will be unstoppable...

Part 1: The Invasion
Thyne Hope groaned. The sun poured into his eyes. He put the sheet over his head, but it was useless. He sighed and got up from his bed. He dug out a clean t-shirt (good to know they're still wearing t-shirts in the future) and a pair of jeans. His socks were dirty, but he left them on. He picked up his boots. I need a new pair of boots, he thought as he looked at the worn soles. He'd had them for three or four years (presumably when the war started. IDK). He put them on anyway. He went to the bathroom (realism, people! Sometimes you gotta pee) that was next to his room. He looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his comb through his hair. His blue eyes shined (*headdesk*). Up the hall he heard Sty going outside to get the morning paper. He didn't hear Tristan yet. He knew Tristan wouldn't be up for a while yet. Not until nine at least. He looked a this watch and saw it was 8:30. He'd slept late. In reality, he hated his job. He worked on computers (doing what?). Sty was a TV anchorman (why is he home at 8:30 in the morning?). Tristan, who very rarely ever left the house, was a journalist. (Apparently he does a lot of phone interviews?)

Thyne worked his way into the kitchen where Sty sat at the table reading the paper like he did every morning.
“You're up late,” Sty said. He didn't look up from the paper.
“Yeah, I know. I had to stay up late last night fixing another stupid computer.” (My own hatred of electronics comes through in this story, doesn't it?)
“Hmm. Well, perhaps you'd like to read this article in the newspaper about Drake Night,” Sty said.
Thyne looked up with interest. “Oh yeah, let me see.”
Sty handed him the article. Thyne read through it and began to laugh.
“'Thanks to our beloved, yet unknown heroes, and may they reveal themselves soon.'” (Must be an opinion piece.)
“Yeah, that's sappy, isn't it?” Sty asked.
“You bet. Not once did I ever consider myself a hero. Reckon if Cole's (IDK who Cole is. Sorry) paper says anything like this in it?” Thyne said. He shook his head at the article. He didn't mentionto Sty that last night he'd had another nightmare about Drake Night. Or, maybe Sty already knew, because Thyne vaguely remembered someone talking to him. But he hadn't been listening. Or not very closely anyway.
“What's for breakfast?” Thyne asked.
“Whatever you want to fix,” Sty said. (Ha! Classic Sty!) Then they heard familiar footsteps in the hallway.
“There's Tristan,” Sty said. (How's that for originality?)
“Yup (shut up, Tell says yep, not yup). Say, what were your plans for today?”
“Not a whole lot. Actually, we need some groceries and I'd like to go into town. Why? What are your plans?”
“I need new boots. I thought I would go find a new pair, if I can find some I like” Thyne said.
(Bear with me, it gets better. Um...better might be subjective...just hang in there.)
“A trip to town then,” Sty said.
Tristan came in and sat between Sty and Thyne. He looked tired. (All that journalizing must be exhausting.)
“Tired?” Sty asked.
“Well, between my article (that I never leave the house to get quotes for) and Thyne's yelling and tossing, I didn't get much sleep,” he said.
“Thyne, did you have another nightmare?” Sty asked. (No, I thought yelling and tossing would be a good nighttime activity!)
“Yes. He did,” Tristan said before Thyne could open hismouth.
“Yes. I did,” Thyne muttered. He didn't want to talk about it, plus this wasn't the first time he'd had nightmares like this. After he'd come home from the war, they'd been bad too.
“Maybe you need some--”
“No. Don't even go there (retro saying alert!). I don't need help. I'll get over it eventually,” Thyne said.
Sty looked doubtful.
“What are you doing today, Tris?” Sty asked.
“I don't know.”
“Want to come with us? We're going to town,” Thyne said.
Tristan shook his head. He hated going anywhere because of his face and he limped. Three scars marred his face. One over the bridge of his nose, one on his chin, and one down his face (his nose and chin must not be on his face). And he limped because of his knee (I think he broke it or something, but I can't remember). Tristan wasn't bitter about the way he looked, but was very self-conscious (he's probably vain because he used to be hot). Thyne had a two-inch cut under his eye, but he didn't care. And Sty had one above his eyebrow, but he didn't care either (nor do I care about this paragraph).
“No. I'm staying here,” Tristan said.
“Tris, live a little (because going to town to buy new boots is the most exciting thing these three have done in two years). A few scars shouldn't stop you,” Thyne said. He fingered his own scar.
“Well. They do,” Tristan said. He crossed his arms.
Thyne sighed. “We can't make you if you don't want to.”
“Darn right (I wasn't allow to write swear words in my teenage years. House rules).” Tristan snapped.
Sty sighed and stood up from his chair.
“Let's go Thyne,” he said.
Thyne shook his head. Tristan had always been kind of whiny, but after the explosion, he'd changed a lot (this MS needs to be part of an explosion. SMH).

Six days later, Sty was reading the morning paper (instead of going to work again) when he spotted an article about one of the colonies on the moon. About how they had been taken over by men who were blue. Sty laughed hard about that (I'm seriously wondering if these guys have a substance abuse problem) and pointed it out to his brothers who also thought it was funny. But there seemed to be a bit of truth to it. Why else would it be in the paper? (Yes, Tristan, tell us, why else is it in the paper? You don't actually do anything, do you?)

The next day, the three of them were watching TV when the program was interrupted by a man who was blue (gasp!).
“What in the world?” Sty said.
“We are a superior race called the Droins. We have come to your planet to take over. We will take over very soon (in case you missed the first announcement). Our spacecrafts carry up to 2,200 men, women, and children (oh, good. Now we know how many we have to kill per ship to reclaim Earth). It is no use to run. Soon we will take over all of the world (in case you missed that first bit, they're taking over, people! BTW, it gets good here. Wait for it...)
“Oh no. No! No!” Thyne cried.
“Oh, this can't be happening. It's not possible!” Tristan said.
“Why do people want to take over our planet?” Sty demanded.
Thyne seemed to be in shock. Tristan was fuming, and fearful. Sty was very angry. (*headdesk, headdesk, headdesk*)
“This is ridiculous! This has to be a hoax (if only)!” Sty said.
He did not believe people who were blue (what have you got against blue people, buddy?) were going to take over the world. He could not believe this. People were just now recovering from the damage Drake Night has done. They couldn't stand up to this. Now now. Thyne was staring at the TV, a scared look on his face. H remembered Drake Night. He wasn't sure he could stand up to this. Suddenly (dun, dun, dun) the telephone rang. Sty picked it up.
“Sty, are you seeing this?” It was Cole Harrison (whoever that is).
“Yes. I am. I'm not pleased. This can't be real.”
“It is. They landed at the Federal Space Center about ten hours ago,” Cole replied.
(And the award for most dramatic reaction to bad news goes to...)
“No! It can't be. We'll have no choice. We can't take this. We'll have to be slaves,” Sty said.
“Yes. We will (way to stay positive, Cole). Unless there's some way to get rid of them.” (Hmm...)
“No. I'm not doing this. We got rid of Drake Night. It's someone else's turn now. We saved the world once,” Sty argued.
Cole sighed. “Yes. It is someone else's turn.” (Ralph, it's your turn to save the world this time! Don't argue with me!) They both hung up the phone.
“It was Cole,” Sty said.
Thyne looked at him.
“What did he want?” Tristan asked. (To borrow a cup of sugar. For God's sake...)
“He asked if I was watching this. I told him that we were,” Sty said. (Oh, dear sweet and fluffy lord. Why?!)
“What did you say about being slaves?” Thyne asked. (“Whips and chains excite me.”)
“You heard the TV (it said zero things about slaves). That Droin said we were going to become slaves,” Sty said as if it was no big deal. (Um, you guys watching a different program than the rest of us? There was no mention of slaves. None.)
“Not me,” Thyne said. “I have no intention of being anyone's slave.”
“That's stupid. How are you going to avoid it?” Tristan snapped. (Whips and chains, yay!)
“I don't know. I'll think of something.”
“Yeah. Right,” Sty scoffed.
“Are we just going to sit around until the Droins come?” Thyne asked.
“Well, what do you want to do?” Sty asked.
“I don't know,” Thyne said.
“Let's go see a movie,” Tristan said sarcastically.
(And the award for best earnest reaction to a sarcastic remark goes to...)
“Actually, that's a good idea,” Sty said. (War has clearly damaged him.)
(And the award for best earnest reaction to an earnest reaction to a sarcastic remark goes to...)
“Nah. I don't want to. Nothing good is playing,” Thyne said.

I'll leave off there. There's more. Sadly, a lot more of this terrible drivel. I spent an entire summer writing this thing. Their reactions to becoming slaves were just too much. I'm pretty sure Tristan was all for it. In the next scene, Sty flips out about not saving the world some more while complaining about his dead wife, who then starts talking to him. Drug problem, I'm telling you. They exchange some more witty dialogue, get rounded up by aliens (“No slaves here.” Actual dialogue, I kid you not), Thyne takes a beating from a whip (much to Tristan's disappointment), Tristan is devastated when a Droin calls him ugly, and they met up with the mysterious Cole at a slave auction. He figures out how to destroy the Droins and they all take a super-fun road trip to New York City. One of my favorite things about this is how the aliens slipped into all the human jobs with ease. They were running Earth just like the humans, but they needed some slaves, I guess. Also, I mention embalming and it's clear I had no idea what that actually entailed. Ah, innocence.

Editing matters. So if you're an aspiring writer, just remember, this is where I started out. I got better. It's a lesson. You can too. Also, interesting point in fact, there is no romance in this story unless you count the dead wife, who kind of turns into a cow when she feels like Sty has let her down. One can only wonder what she must have been like as a living person. Or...one shakes one's head and tries to forget this because the world is a better place without it.





3 comments:

  1. Oh, that's awesome. I wish I could find some of my adolescent efforts now so I could laugh at how bad they were.

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    1. My favorite is the part about the movies. I laughed almost all the way through this. So awful. Just so bad.

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  2. This is hysterical!!! I laughed with you especially toward the end. I can so relate. I'm not sure I'm as brave. My first novel written between 17 and 19 and there are so many M'Ladys you'll want to eat the pages.

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