Post by succubusdream on Nov 25, 2010 16:41:51 GMT -8
This was an assignment where I was given only the first sentence and was told to work with it. So here is the result.
The blind date was proving to be a horribly bad idea. It wasn’t only the stupid self-centered comments that annoyed her. It wasn’t only the nasty racial slur. It wasn’t the vague odor of smoke and sweat that seemed to surround him. She might have been able overlook all these. But no, it was more. The tatters he passed off as clothes were wretched and unsightly. He didn’t bother to shave for what looked like weeks, the grim on the visible parts of his skin indicated that he really didn’t care for this engagement and couldn’t manage to stop by the bathroom to wash up a little. He used a chair to rest his muddy boots on, the dirt staining the white cloth of the diner cushions. By the time they ordered lunch, he had filled my ears with words like porch monkey, popular science, sand kisser, and savage. There was no end to this guys growing fowl mouth, and his manners were atrocious. It was so bad she couldn’t even regard him as a man. All he talked about was himself, how hard it was to work in construction day after day just to come home to an empty house, and to make his own dinner. How great it was to walk straight to the fridge and grab a beer after work. He went on to describe how he couldn’t stop after having one beer, leading to a night of drunken ramblings and stumbling around the house, forgetting the frozen dinner platter in the microwave. This left food wasted and a messy house to go home to. His bathroom probably was beyond disgusting.
She sat through the endless ramble of his problems and how he needed a woman to set him straight. What he really wanted was a maid. Finally they got their food, a BLT for Mr. Grizzly Adams and a clam chowder for her. She thought the food in front of him was going to shut him up for at least a few moments, but she was wrong. The construction primate talked with his mouth full and pieces of his sandwich kept falling out of his trap. It amazed her how much food he could stuff in his mouth while still being able to masticate and talk at the same time. If it was an Olympic event, this guy would surely win gold. She tried to keep from staring, but her eyes seem to be glue to the grotesque Neanderthal ritual he practiced. Finally she had enough. With half her chowder ingested, she excused herself to the ladies room. The response, “Take your time darlin’.” followed her dismissal. She made her way to the bathroom and asked the waitress that came out where the back door was. Instead of instructing her of the location, the waitress smiled and said, “That bad, huh?”, then showed her out. Her only regret was that she didn’t order more.
The blind date was proving to be a horribly bad idea. It wasn’t only the stupid self-centered comments that annoyed her. It wasn’t only the nasty racial slur. It wasn’t the vague odor of smoke and sweat that seemed to surround him. She might have been able overlook all these. But no, it was more. The tatters he passed off as clothes were wretched and unsightly. He didn’t bother to shave for what looked like weeks, the grim on the visible parts of his skin indicated that he really didn’t care for this engagement and couldn’t manage to stop by the bathroom to wash up a little. He used a chair to rest his muddy boots on, the dirt staining the white cloth of the diner cushions. By the time they ordered lunch, he had filled my ears with words like porch monkey, popular science, sand kisser, and savage. There was no end to this guys growing fowl mouth, and his manners were atrocious. It was so bad she couldn’t even regard him as a man. All he talked about was himself, how hard it was to work in construction day after day just to come home to an empty house, and to make his own dinner. How great it was to walk straight to the fridge and grab a beer after work. He went on to describe how he couldn’t stop after having one beer, leading to a night of drunken ramblings and stumbling around the house, forgetting the frozen dinner platter in the microwave. This left food wasted and a messy house to go home to. His bathroom probably was beyond disgusting.
She sat through the endless ramble of his problems and how he needed a woman to set him straight. What he really wanted was a maid. Finally they got their food, a BLT for Mr. Grizzly Adams and a clam chowder for her. She thought the food in front of him was going to shut him up for at least a few moments, but she was wrong. The construction primate talked with his mouth full and pieces of his sandwich kept falling out of his trap. It amazed her how much food he could stuff in his mouth while still being able to masticate and talk at the same time. If it was an Olympic event, this guy would surely win gold. She tried to keep from staring, but her eyes seem to be glue to the grotesque Neanderthal ritual he practiced. Finally she had enough. With half her chowder ingested, she excused herself to the ladies room. The response, “Take your time darlin’.” followed her dismissal. She made her way to the bathroom and asked the waitress that came out where the back door was. Instead of instructing her of the location, the waitress smiled and said, “That bad, huh?”, then showed her out. Her only regret was that she didn’t order more.