Excerpt 1

Listening to: Eurythmics - Here Comes the Rain Again

Alright, readers...
I'm posting up the first excerpt of my new story (I always type them up in story form before I illustrate them) with hopes that you will offer VERY HONEST CRITIQUE. I want you to tell me what works and what doesn't work, if the syntax is confusting, etc.




The clock says 3:42 am. I've been lying in bed for three hours. I'm out of Tylenol PM. First I was too warm. Now I'm too cold.

Luther's been making noise, too. Nocturnal little bastard. He keeps switching back and forth between swatting around that mouse with the stupid rattle in it and rubbing his clawless paws against the corner of the bed. Or he's lapping at the toilet, or climbing on my head. I pet him a couple times - maybe he'd be a good kitty and sleep or something - but he went right back to that idiot mouse.

I'm getting up. This is pointless.

Three hours of swishing paws. Three hours of the buzzing streetlight outside. Three hours of the toilet making weird noises.

It's 3:42 am. El, you have work in four hours. There's a pile of papers you should have graded by now.

51 papers on the ancient world, by 51 6th-graders. I bet 47 of them picked the Rome prompt. The fall of Ur wasn't nearly as interesting as the discussion of great Roman inventions. Anything with information would impress me, but this is a private school; they've been doing the five-paragraph thing for a couple years now. "Higher standards," Mrs. O'Connell said.

Can't sleep.

Time to sit down and do this.

***

Elliot shut his eyes as he switched on the living room lamp, and a moment later opened them again. The stack of papers on the coffee table rattled in the draft of the A/C, but remained a solid pile of weight. As he sat down, he picked up the papers and moved them next to him on the couch.

"Fuck, red pen." He got up again, walked back to his room, and dumped out the pen cup on his desk.

"Where's the red one? Dammit." He picked up a purple pen, and returned to the paper stack. He picked up the first paper.

"Brianna Abrams... Rome." He read the paper quickly, adding lines, correcting spelling, moving commas. Purple ink, a B- paper.

Purple sent no message. It was too friendly. O'Connell had no rules about pen colors, but this looked all wrong. Elliot put the paper on the coffee table and picked up the next one.

"Eddie Ayers... Rome." Purple purple purple. C+. He threw the pen on the floor. "Fuck!" Elliot stood up. "No. These were due back last week." He shut his eyes, sighed, and sat down.

Cheryl always got her tests back quickly. Though grading math tests took a lot less time. The kids loved her as much as they could love a math teacher. She got away with being strict because she was young and funny and occasionally said "damn" in front of the kids. Young male teachers always need to be goofy to get students to listen. Maybe it's why she asked him out. The new, young, wacky history teacher who wore pink socks on pop quiz days and made up songs for the kids to remember all the important battles in Greece.

She corrected herself so cutely when she said "damn."

Elliot picked up a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and lit one.

"Craig Brown... 'The Fall of Ur.' Nice." Except the Greeks weren't involved in Ur. "Where the hell is my red pen?" From the kitchen, Luther mewed. Elliot scribbled a long note on the back of the paper. In loopy purple script. "Big purple F!" He slammed the paper on the table, tapped his cigarette on the ashtray, and stood up.

Cheryl hadn't talked to him in a couple days. Friday night had not gone well. They ran into students at the movie theater. Students who asked, "are you guys on a date?" then giggled after she said "we're friends outside of school - are you on a date?" 2 students now, 51 students by Monday. They had finally progressed to sex, but it didn't happen. As soon as he had the condom on, he couldn't keep it up. He still pleasured her, but they both seemed embarrassed about the outcome of the night.