After a little bit of a hard day, (one of those ones where you think things are going to suck, and then they turn out better than you could've expected) I've finished a short, modern social commentary on Ernest Hemingway's short story "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place". I'll post the story that, not only must you read to really understand the significance of my work, but purely because Hemingway is, by far, save for Dostoevsky, (Dostoyevsky, depending on where you're from...or what forms of Russian you prefer, I really don't understand the difference) one of the most influential authors in my life. I'd like it if you actually take the time to read both, you post some feedback (I'm NOT happy with the end of the story, because I've been having a very hard time articulating what I want to say in less than like... 2 pages) and whether or not this really makes sense. It's directed toward a wide audience, and for that reason I tried to make it fairly obvious what I'm getting at.
Here is "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" By Ernest Hemingway
http://www.mrbauld.com/hemclean.html
And then I'll create some space, and just paste my story in here, I'm too lazy to actually upload this. Before you read this, keep in mind I'm not a big fan of writing with such...real things. I like science fiction, but I promise, I'm growing ;P. And as my girlfriend said, you're always your own worst critic. Thank you ;3 Also, ignore formatting and such, pasted from Word so things might act differently, or maybe I fucked up.
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The young man walked into the store, meandering up to the counter, and asked the clerk standing there a simple question; “Do you guys have Nestle Crunch?” The words left his mouth slowly, clumsily, like a crippled child trying to open a door with no help.
“Yeah, to your right, second aisle, third shelf down.” The clerk expertly stated.
“I’ll take one of those.” The grizzled young man said, scratching the stubble on his chin. He wasn’t sure whether this was a nervous habit, or if it just itched. Slowly, the man licked his lips, and thought about how dirty the cash register looked, with it’s myriad fingerprints and multi-colored stains. He then looked to the left of the register and saw the change tray that everyone took money from, poor retarded kids. All they wanted was a few pennies.
“Excuse me, sir, were you going to go get your candy bar, or would you like me to get it for you?” The clerk said.
“Oh, I didn’t want it. I was just wondering if you guys had them,” he said, looking with a wry smile up to the clerk’s nametag “Billy.”
“Sir I’m sorry, but if you’re not going to purchase anything, you have to leave.” Said the clerk, a bit frightened now. He’d seen it all before. These creeps came in with their big jackets on, just like this guy, and then shot the damn clerk in the face, just because.
“Oh, in that case, ring me up for one.” The man said as he handed Billy, the cashier, a crisp dollar bill out of his coat pocket, avoiding the bulky shape that was in between his hand and the wad of cash from the night before.
“Um, okay, do you want me to get the bar for you?” Billy said, a little more excited now that he could see what he assumed to be malice in the crook’s eyes. He wasn’t ready to die. Why did he have to pick up this graveyard shirt for Caleesa?
“No, that’s fine. I’m not really hungry. But thank you for the offer.” Said the young man, affirming what Billy thought was true: Tonight was the end of his life. He would chat with this man for maybe a minute more before the pale features before him turned into a sly grin, and pulled out the tool concealed within his jacket. It would do the dirty work for him.
“Sure, no problem.” Billy said, as kindly as he could, wishing at this point that he could just be at home with his girlfriend, his mom, his cat, his playstation, anything that made him feel comfortable. The two stared at each other a little longer, then let their eyes wander around the store, each looking like they had just discovered a new insect on the wall opposite them. Billy began to hear a ruffle behind him, and he knew that now was the end. He turned around slowly to face his soon to be assailant, determined to be valiant in these final moments. He finished his pivot to stare at the young man, slowly sliding a piece of gum into his mouth, the large teeth biting into the green sliver.
“Billy, are you okay? You look really stressed out.” The man said, biting satisfyingly into the juicy, juicy, juicy fruit.
“Uh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just get bad stomach aches, you know, working nights.” The clerk lied.
“Oh, I see. I think the Tums are on the same aisle as the Snickers. Would you like me to get you some?” The young man offered kindly.
“No…that’s fine.” Billy said, as he watched the perpetrator walk toward the magazines and pick up last month’s issue of Giant-Titted Bitches. A bit of a tacky name, but a classy magazine, nonetheless. Great columnists. Billy figured this was his chance to call the police, so he reached slowly for his cell phone in his pocket, and sneakily dialed 911. He bent down, as if to get something from under the counter, and heard the 911 Operator on the phone. He just whispered “42nd Street and Belamaine, 2039” and hung up. Hopefully she would get the hint.
“Billy, you guys need to update your magazines. How is a guy supposed to get caught up with magazines from September?” He spoke casually, as if he really did want to read about celebrities’ latest cocaine-binges and pussy shots. Billy couldn’t stop thinking about what a poor act this guy was putting up, what an insincere prick he really was.
“Um, I don’t know, sorry sir, but our magazine provider has always been really late with the most recent issues.” Billy apologized, realizing that he was also an imposter, almost forgetting that he had just called the police, and that they should be here in a matter of minutes.
The police car was only a few blocks away with its lights on, racing toward the convenience store where they were told there was a possible robbery or homicide, they couldn’t be sure which.
Billy could hear the sirens now, and felt comfort at the sound of those red and blue beacons coming to save him from this freak. “Wow, I hear sirens, Billy. I hope whoever they’re going to save is safe. This town can be dangerous, among other things, at night.” The grizzly man said, completely unaware that he was the one they were coming for.
The car rolled up to the front of the convenience store and the cops drew their guns. They came in armed, yelling at the obvious culprit to get down on the ground. Jamming their guns into the small of his back, they apprehended him, and took him over to the register, now facing Billy. “You did the right thing, son.” The taller cop said, giving the criminal a yank to show superiority.
“Billy, what is this? Why are they arresting me?” The worn-looking man said, his voice fading with every syllable.
“I’m not sure myself, man, but I’m glad they did before they had a reason to.” Billy said triumphantly.
“Billy, all I wanted was somewhere to be.” The man said, seeming squeamish and harmless under the fluorescent glow.
“Come on, get in the car.” The other cop said.
They took the man away, and, supposedly, down to the station. Billy thought to himself if he regretted this decision, but came to the conclusion that he did not. As they said, it’s a dog eat dog world, and you never know when a seemingly innocent person has got it out for you.
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