iMod
Posted: January 4th, 2012, 12:09 am"What's past is Prologue."
~Kitchen Samus
[prologue]
"What the hell am I looking at?"
"Possibly one of the greatest stories I've ever written."
"Wait, so a guy gets murdered, and somehow these teenagers who know zilch about his life try to find out who did it?"
"heh, yeah, pretty original and groundbreaking, huh?
"
The man on the other side of the desk fixed his glasses and sighed. "It would be, I mean, if it wasn't filled with so many plotholes and grammar errors, maybe."
"Plot.......holes?
Well, for example, these characters just happen to know this other character you hinted at a while back, even though you never really explain how they know him."
"Well, I-"
"and the murder occurred in a secluded home and the victim was never really found, but somehow an entire police department found out? Then for some reason the case is assigned to a couple of trainees."
The once joyful and aspiring storywriter stayed silent, frowning.
"As your story stands, I really can't allow it in the forum. Perhaps when you actually learn how to write."
The man handed the stuffed twenty page story back to the author, who stood up, obviously witholding tears.
His voice shaky, the amateur spoke, "I.....um.. thanks for taking the time to look at it."
"Yes, yes, you're welcome." the man spoke flatly.
"I guess..... I'll be leaving then."
the young man silently stepped out of the office, only to burst into tears as soon as he exited. He felt as if he would
never come back.
[/prologue]
[Sequence 1 - Historical Creation]
"Samus, go to the kitchen and make me a sammich."
~Adam
"Yes Master!"
~Kitchen Samus
(Ringing in a Resolution and Absolutions)
The door shut with a close, the sad teen shuffled over to the couch and fell over onto the soft sofa cushions, sobbing
silently.
In the kitchen room, a young girl was busy on her phone texting up until the point where she couldn't ignore the crying that slowly grew louder.
She sighed, got up from her chair, and went to care for her depressive friend.
She sat sown to the poor sod with his face In the cushions and asked, "Oh Sam, what's troubling you now?"
Sam mustered up the composure to explain, albeit sniffling and with plenty of sadness in his voice, about what had happened.
"Ami.......I.......I brought in my old story that I reworked to a publisher......they.....they said it's......it's...."
Sam broke out sobbing again just thinking about the rejection.
She comforted him while he wept. "Don't worry man, one day somebody's bound to accept your work. When that day comes, you can take your wads of cash , ♥♥♥♥♥ all your doubters and proudly say, "I don't give a chainsaw about what you think." "
Sam laughed. Ami always threw out the weirdest jokes when she really wanted to.
The slob had finally stopped crying, and looked at the story he had previously thrown on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
Ami put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You know what would make you feel better?"
"What?"
"A sandwich. I was actually toasting some before you....... oh ♥♥♥♥!" Ami suddenly remembered why she stayed in the kitchen, she sprinted over to the kitchen to make sure the sandwiches weren't nuked by now.
While she went off to assess the status of her sandwiches, a pair of laughing, happy looking bros descended from the stairs in the room. One was very tall and yet only thirteen years of age, with all the benefits of looking like pasty white nerd. The other was very feminine, medium of length, and yet wore a tophat and monocle and walked with with a cane to disprove any notion of femininity.
The two both greeted Sam.
"Hehey, Sam Eastwood," the tall one said while pretending to shoot at him with his fingers, "what's up bro?"
Sam smiled.
"Hey Michael, Hey Buffy. I'm just... Thinking."
"I told you to stop calling me that. I am Buffoonerious Olvier MacIntyre, and if you call me that again, I'll whack you upside the head with this cane, you twat."
"Sure thing, Buffy-Ow!"
The cane came swift and struck a pretty hurtful blow.
"That's nice, we just came on down to watch dat X-Play on this HDTV."
"Don't you hate that show?" Sam asked. Michael Davis was pretty knowledgeable in games, and expressed his severe dislike of the show before.
"Yeah, they five star every single goddamn mainstream shooter in existance and rate other games so low I think they're getting paid to review like that, but it's not like the rest of American Television is going to acknowledge video games as a good subject to base a show on. "
"I prefer Attack of The Show to be honest." Buffy said.
"Up top." Mic raised a hand. Buffy returned it.
"Anyways," Mic turned on the TV and changed the channel to G4.
Ami adjusted her hair, walked in with a plate of sandwiches and proclaimed, " Alright, I just saved these sandwiches from total annhilation, who wants some?"
All three raised their hands eagerly.
(Will be continued.)
~Kitchen Samus
[prologue]
"What the hell am I looking at?"
"Possibly one of the greatest stories I've ever written."
"Wait, so a guy gets murdered, and somehow these teenagers who know zilch about his life try to find out who did it?"
"heh, yeah, pretty original and groundbreaking, huh?
"The man on the other side of the desk fixed his glasses and sighed. "It would be, I mean, if it wasn't filled with so many plotholes and grammar errors, maybe."
"Plot.......holes?
Well, for example, these characters just happen to know this other character you hinted at a while back, even though you never really explain how they know him."
"Well, I-"
"and the murder occurred in a secluded home and the victim was never really found, but somehow an entire police department found out? Then for some reason the case is assigned to a couple of trainees."
The once joyful and aspiring storywriter stayed silent, frowning.
"As your story stands, I really can't allow it in the forum. Perhaps when you actually learn how to write."
The man handed the stuffed twenty page story back to the author, who stood up, obviously witholding tears.
His voice shaky, the amateur spoke, "I.....um.. thanks for taking the time to look at it."
"Yes, yes, you're welcome." the man spoke flatly.
"I guess..... I'll be leaving then."
the young man silently stepped out of the office, only to burst into tears as soon as he exited. He felt as if he would
never come back.
[/prologue]
[Sequence 1 - Historical Creation]
"Samus, go to the kitchen and make me a sammich."
~Adam
"Yes Master!"
~Kitchen Samus
(Ringing in a Resolution and Absolutions)
The door shut with a close, the sad teen shuffled over to the couch and fell over onto the soft sofa cushions, sobbing
silently.
In the kitchen room, a young girl was busy on her phone texting up until the point where she couldn't ignore the crying that slowly grew louder.
She sighed, got up from her chair, and went to care for her depressive friend.
She sat sown to the poor sod with his face In the cushions and asked, "Oh Sam, what's troubling you now?"
Sam mustered up the composure to explain, albeit sniffling and with plenty of sadness in his voice, about what had happened.
"Ami.......I.......I brought in my old story that I reworked to a publisher......they.....they said it's......it's...."
Sam broke out sobbing again just thinking about the rejection.
She comforted him while he wept. "Don't worry man, one day somebody's bound to accept your work. When that day comes, you can take your wads of cash , ♥♥♥♥♥ all your doubters and proudly say, "I don't give a chainsaw about what you think." "
Sam laughed. Ami always threw out the weirdest jokes when she really wanted to.
The slob had finally stopped crying, and looked at the story he had previously thrown on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
Ami put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "You know what would make you feel better?"
"What?"
"A sandwich. I was actually toasting some before you....... oh ♥♥♥♥!" Ami suddenly remembered why she stayed in the kitchen, she sprinted over to the kitchen to make sure the sandwiches weren't nuked by now.
While she went off to assess the status of her sandwiches, a pair of laughing, happy looking bros descended from the stairs in the room. One was very tall and yet only thirteen years of age, with all the benefits of looking like pasty white nerd. The other was very feminine, medium of length, and yet wore a tophat and monocle and walked with with a cane to disprove any notion of femininity.
The two both greeted Sam.
"Hehey, Sam Eastwood," the tall one said while pretending to shoot at him with his fingers, "what's up bro?"
Sam smiled.
"Hey Michael, Hey Buffy. I'm just... Thinking."
"I told you to stop calling me that. I am Buffoonerious Olvier MacIntyre, and if you call me that again, I'll whack you upside the head with this cane, you twat."
"Sure thing, Buffy-Ow!"
The cane came swift and struck a pretty hurtful blow.
"That's nice, we just came on down to watch dat X-Play on this HDTV."
"Don't you hate that show?" Sam asked. Michael Davis was pretty knowledgeable in games, and expressed his severe dislike of the show before.
"Yeah, they five star every single goddamn mainstream shooter in existance and rate other games so low I think they're getting paid to review like that, but it's not like the rest of American Television is going to acknowledge video games as a good subject to base a show on. "
"I prefer Attack of The Show to be honest." Buffy said.
"Up top." Mic raised a hand. Buffy returned it.
"Anyways," Mic turned on the TV and changed the channel to G4.
Ami adjusted her hair, walked in with a plate of sandwiches and proclaimed, " Alright, I just saved these sandwiches from total annhilation, who wants some?"
All three raised their hands eagerly.
(Will be continued.)