Okay, so I recall in some other thread I posted something about getting an extension on an essay. Well, heh, I'm the world's biggest procrastinator, and only started like two hours ago. I have 750 words so far, and there's quite a bit to go. The thing is, the topic was making up a story of our choice. I did just that, but I'm treading on the edge of the "Keep it school appropriate" line.. Umm, will someone read it and tell me what they think? Mind, it's not finished or proof-read yet, but any commentary would be appreciated.
Jack Durden and the Meaning of Life
Sirens roar in the street below. Children cry, screaming for their parents - most of whom are already dead. Bombs sound, the shrieks of man now only faint noises, muffled by the ear-piercing explosions.The date is September 19th, 2037. The UN has been at war for the last two decades, and the nuclear holocaust is finally upon us. It's literally Hell on Earth, but it seems that someone even more corrupt than Satan, (who else than our once-beloved government?) is pulling the strings. It's every man, woman, and child for himself, with the same mortality rate for all - definite annihilation.
Jack Durden looks out of the cracked window in his run-down Brooklyn apartment. Sighing, but not particularly bothered by the chaos, he walks to his couch and sits down. Television remote in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, Jack flips through the channels mindlessly, thinking about his life. There probably wasn't a more self-loathing man alive. Growing up, Jack was raised by very strict Christian parents, born from a long lineage of doctors and lawyers. Much was expected from him, most of which he wasn't capable of living up to. When he was fifteen, Jack was caught by his parents engaged in homosexual activities. After a long confrontation and several trips to church, he came out as atheist. His parents, clearly appalled, enforced hours of bible study onto Jack, with lectures and religious neighbors around 24/7. Having enough of it, Jack ran away. Scarcely mature enough to pass off as someone who was old enough to drive, Jack was caught, arrested, and tried. His parents were notified, but isolated themselves from their son, who was a 'shame to the family'. Jack spent the next two and a half years of his life in juvie.
Released at eighteen, Jack was through with school and became a cab driver. The next seventeen years of his life were wasted with the same ol' routine: Wake up miserably. Drive posh, annoying tourists around all day. Go home and drink until passed out. When he was thirty-five, Jack joined Alcoholics Anonymous and got over his addiction. He was an aspiring policeman until recently, but angrily gave up his hopes after failing out of the classes he was taking online through the local community college. Life was terrible, and if the suicidal state wasn't so hard to get into, Jack would have probably offed himself ages ago. After all, what's it matter if the world has one less thirty-eight year old, overweight, smoking, loser?
Now drinking again, with the end of the world eminent, Jack closed his eyes and pondered the meaning of life. This wasn't unusual or new to Jack. In fact, at least 90% of the conversations Jack had with himself incorporated origin, purpose, and the supernatural. To him, God was 'thought-crime', and he actually used the 1984 method of 'double-think' to relearn life without this misogynistic and malevolent being. Unfortunately, Jack didn't have the same advantages as Winston Smith, with a brotherhood literally forcing him to erase and alter his thinking style. Thought crime occurred, and there were no threats to Jack to keep it from happening. So, if not a god... what?
The explosions grew louder, and now Jack could feel the heat given off by the a-light adjacent building. "Time to die," Jack said aloud. "Life, my god, you've been terrible to me. At least I wasn't a wuss and stuck it out 'til the end. Mind, I still don't know the point in all this, but I'm glad it's finally--" A bright flash cut Jack off mid-sentence. His head spun, and he fainted. For all Jack knew, he was dead.
"Jack? Jackie-boy? Can you hear me? Jack!"
Jack came to his senses, rubbing his aching head and examining himself. After noticing he was alive, Jack moved on to the stranger question, and that's finding out where he was. Jack was surrounded in a white mist, and couldn't even see the hand he stuck out in front of his face.
"Jackie! Perfect, you've come to. Can you hear me?" Jack nods. "Splendid. I suppose I should explain myself, eh? Jack, I'm your subconscious. I'm that little voice in your head that you've been repressing since you were fifteen. I was at one point your 'common sense', but apparently you decided you didn't need me. Look where that's gotten you!"
"Oh, shut the hell up!" replied Jack. "I don't need your condescending self to patronize me. Just go away!"
Question
Izzy
Okay, so I recall in some other thread I posted something about getting an extension on an essay. Well, heh, I'm the world's biggest procrastinator, and only started like two hours ago. I have 750 words so far, and there's quite a bit to go. The thing is, the topic was making up a story of our choice. I did just that, but I'm treading on the edge of the "Keep it school appropriate" line.. Umm, will someone read it and tell me what they think? Mind, it's not finished or proof-read yet, but any commentary would be appreciated.
Jack Durden and the Meaning of Life
Sirens roar in the street below. Children cry, screaming for their parents - most of whom are already dead. Bombs sound, the shrieks of man now only faint noises, muffled by the ear-piercing explosions.The date is September 19th, 2037. The UN has been at war for the last two decades, and the nuclear holocaust is finally upon us. It's literally Hell on Earth, but it seems that someone even more corrupt than Satan, (who else than our once-beloved government?) is pulling the strings. It's every man, woman, and child for himself, with the same mortality rate for all - definite annihilation.
Jack Durden looks out of the cracked window in his run-down Brooklyn apartment. Sighing, but not particularly bothered by the chaos, he walks to his couch and sits down. Television remote in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, Jack flips through the channels mindlessly, thinking about his life. There probably wasn't a more self-loathing man alive. Growing up, Jack was raised by very strict Christian parents, born from a long lineage of doctors and lawyers. Much was expected from him, most of which he wasn't capable of living up to. When he was fifteen, Jack was caught by his parents engaged in homosexual activities. After a long confrontation and several trips to church, he came out as atheist. His parents, clearly appalled, enforced hours of bible study onto Jack, with lectures and religious neighbors around 24/7. Having enough of it, Jack ran away. Scarcely mature enough to pass off as someone who was old enough to drive, Jack was caught, arrested, and tried. His parents were notified, but isolated themselves from their son, who was a 'shame to the family'. Jack spent the next two and a half years of his life in juvie.
Released at eighteen, Jack was through with school and became a cab driver. The next seventeen years of his life were wasted with the same ol' routine: Wake up miserably. Drive posh, annoying tourists around all day. Go home and drink until passed out. When he was thirty-five, Jack joined Alcoholics Anonymous and got over his addiction. He was an aspiring policeman until recently, but angrily gave up his hopes after failing out of the classes he was taking online through the local community college. Life was terrible, and if the suicidal state wasn't so hard to get into, Jack would have probably offed himself ages ago. After all, what's it matter if the world has one less thirty-eight year old, overweight, smoking, loser?
Now drinking again, with the end of the world eminent, Jack closed his eyes and pondered the meaning of life. This wasn't unusual or new to Jack. In fact, at least 90% of the conversations Jack had with himself incorporated origin, purpose, and the supernatural. To him, God was 'thought-crime', and he actually used the 1984 method of 'double-think' to relearn life without this misogynistic and malevolent being. Unfortunately, Jack didn't have the same advantages as Winston Smith, with a brotherhood literally forcing him to erase and alter his thinking style. Thought crime occurred, and there were no threats to Jack to keep it from happening. So, if not a god... what?
The explosions grew louder, and now Jack could feel the heat given off by the a-light adjacent building. "Time to die," Jack said aloud. "Life, my god, you've been terrible to me. At least I wasn't a wuss and stuck it out 'til the end. Mind, I still don't know the point in all this, but I'm glad it's finally--" A bright flash cut Jack off mid-sentence. His head spun, and he fainted. For all Jack knew, he was dead.
"Jack? Jackie-boy? Can you hear me? Jack!"
Jack came to his senses, rubbing his aching head and examining himself. After noticing he was alive, Jack moved on to the stranger question, and that's finding out where he was. Jack was surrounded in a white mist, and couldn't even see the hand he stuck out in front of his face.
"Jackie! Perfect, you've come to. Can you hear me?" Jack nods. "Splendid. I suppose I should explain myself, eh? Jack, I'm your subconscious. I'm that little voice in your head that you've been repressing since you were fifteen. I was at one point your 'common sense', but apparently you decided you didn't need me. Look where that's gotten you!"
"Oh, shut the hell up!" replied Jack. "I don't need your condescending self to patronize me. Just go away!"
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