| General Fiction posted April 18, 2014 |
  |
Contest Entry-The First Page
I Swear It's The Truth
by michaelcahill
The First Page Contest Winner
"Stink? You've never smelled anything like it. You could put death and rotten eggs in a blender with your granny's unwashed drawers and it would smell like petunias in comparison. Well, Truthful Jones ain't one to shirk. I chased it clear across the frozen tundra. It was fast too, like a gazelle chased by starving hyenas. But, Truthful Jones has that third gear, then fourth. You know I made the Olympic team. The boycotted year. I told President Carter there was no other way. He wanted to go. "NO!" I said, "we have to stand up for the world. I don't care about a few gold medals when human dignity is involved". Anyway, I chased it for miles, until the ice cracked. The last I saw, he was drifting north. You could still smell him long after."
"Give him a drink, Chester."
"Yeah, Chester, hook him up. He's earned it. That's a helluva tale."
"One of you gonna pay for it? I gotta answer to the owner. I ain't in no position to be complimenting beverages." Chester had extremely short arms. He couldn't reach things on the top shelf. But, he had a step stool that he kicked along the sticky floor with his foot. He'd step up on it and get whatever he needed. In spite of his handicap, he managed to do his job without any problems.
The sudden influx of cops into the dark, musty air of Sonny's Bar and Grill came as a great surprise to those gathered there. The drawn service revolvers added a sense of excitement to their entrance.
"No one moves or breaths. Put your hands on top of your heads and face that wall over there." He gestured towards the wall with the signed poster of Oscar De La Hoya. "Bartender, hands on your head. Step from behind the bar, and join them."
"I'm not here to play games. I want to know who saw what and when they saw it. I want to know who knows what and what they know. I want to know it right now. There's a family of six in a Silver Airstream Mobile Home slaughtered in the alley, right out that back door. The only thing living is a hungry, orange tabby-cat. I don't know if it goes with the alley, or those unfortunate people. I want some answers and I want them now."
Truthful Jones dropped his arms to his side, turned and faced the officer. "Well, sir, it's an interesting story. That's the very cat from the Purina commercials. Now they'd finished the commercials, I was the writer of course, and no one wanted to take that cat home. I don't know if you realize this, but it is unusual for a cat to not use a litter box, it being a natural, instinctual inclination and all. It's a rare mental affiliation. Prozac isn't only efficacious for humans. See the full liter box in the corner? Now, any other questions, officer?"
"Stink? You've never smelled anything like it. You could put death and rotten eggs in a blender with your granny's unwashed drawers and it would smell like petunias in comparison. Well, Truthful Jones ain't one to shirk. I chased it clear across the frozen tundra. It was fast too, like a gazelle chased by starving hyenas. But, Truthful Jones has that third gear, then fourth. You know I made the Olympic team. The boycotted year. I told President Carter there was no other way. He wanted to go. "NO!" I said, "we have to stand up for the world. I don't care about a few gold medals when human dignity is involved". Anyway, I chased it for miles, until the ice cracked. The last I saw, he was drifting north. You could still smell him long after."
"Give him a drink, Chester."
"Yeah, Chester, hook him up. He's earned it. That's a helluva tale."
"One of you gonna pay for it? I gotta answer to the owner. I ain't in no position to be complimenting beverages." Chester had extremely short arms. He couldn't reach things on the top shelf. But, he had a step stool that he kicked along the sticky floor with his foot. He'd step up on it and get whatever he needed. In spite of his handicap, he managed to do his job without any problems.
The sudden influx of cops into the dark, musty air of Sonny's Bar and Grill came as a great surprise to those gathered there. The drawn service revolvers added a sense of excitement to their entrance.
"No one moves or breaths. Put your hands on top of your heads and face that wall over there." He gestured towards the wall with the signed poster of Oscar De La Hoya. "Bartender, hands on your head. Step from behind the bar, and join them."
"I'm not here to play games. I want to know who saw what and when they saw it. I want to know who knows what and what they know. I want to know it right now. There's a family of six in a Silver Airstream Mobile Home slaughtered in the alley, right out that back door. The only thing living is a hungry, orange tabby-cat. I don't know if it goes with the alley, or those unfortunate people. I want some answers and I want them now."
Truthful Jones dropped his arms to his side, turned and faced the officer. "Well, sir, it's an interesting story. That's the very cat from the Purina commercials. Now they'd finished the commercials, I was the writer of course, and no one wanted to take that cat home. I don't know if you realize this, but it is unusual for a cat to not use a litter box, it being a natural, instinctual inclination and all. It's a rare mental affiliation. Prozac isn't only efficacious for humans. See the full liter box in the corner? Now, any other questions, officer?"
"Give him a drink, Chester."
"Yeah, Chester, hook him up. He's earned it. That's a helluva tale."
"One of you gonna pay for it? I gotta answer to the owner. I ain't in no position to be complimenting beverages." Chester had extremely short arms. He couldn't reach things on the top shelf. But, he had a step stool that he kicked along the sticky floor with his foot. He'd step up on it and get whatever he needed. In spite of his handicap, he managed to do his job without any problems.
The sudden influx of cops into the dark, musty air of Sonny's Bar and Grill came as a great surprise to those gathered there. The drawn service revolvers added a sense of excitement to their entrance.
"No one moves or breaths. Put your hands on top of your heads and face that wall over there." He gestured towards the wall with the signed poster of Oscar De La Hoya. "Bartender, hands on your head. Step from behind the bar, and join them."
"I'm not here to play games. I want to know who saw what and when they saw it. I want to know who knows what and what they know. I want to know it right now. There's a family of six in a Silver Airstream Mobile Home slaughtered in the alley, right out that back door. The only thing living is a hungry, orange tabby-cat. I don't know if it goes with the alley, or those unfortunate people. I want some answers and I want them now."
Truthful Jones dropped his arms to his side, turned and faced the officer. "Well, sir, it's an interesting story. That's the very cat from the Purina commercials. Now they'd finished the commercials, I was the writer of course, and no one wanted to take that cat home. I don't know if you realize this, but it is unusual for a cat to not use a litter box, it being a natural, instinctual inclination and all. It's a rare mental affiliation. Prozac isn't only efficacious for humans. See the full liter box in the corner? Now, any other questions, officer?"
|
Writing Prompt If you decided to start writing a novel, what would the first pages look like ? Details in the announcement. |
The First Page Contest Winner |
What would the first page of your novel look like, in no more than 500 words. This piece uses 498.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. michaelcahill All rights reserved. Registered copyright with FanStory.
michaelcahill has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
