You Need to Suffer to Write: Pandemic Edition

 

When the country had to go into quarantine in the early part of 2020, people had to find distractions to pass the time.  I remember hearing that baking sourdough bread received a lot of press at the beginning.  I find most activities involving the kitchen (baking, cooking, dish washing) to be lugubrious, so I needed a different outlet.  One would think I could have warmed up this blog again, but I didn't.  However, I did discover a regular writing contest I started participating in July.

NYC Midnight is an online site that offers story prompt challenges in a variety of styles and word lengths.  Participants pay a small fee to enroll in a challenge that has a set word length, time frame, and three prompts.  The shorter micro-fiction stories usually have a 24 hour period to write an original work with a randomly selected genre, scene, and required word.  Longer challenges have longer time frames and different prompts.  Genre is the common prompt, but the others could be a character or an action.  Each story has to fit within the word count and time frame and be shaped by the prompts.  What I like about the challenge is having a direction and a deadline.

The first challenge I registered for was 1,000 words.  Each participant was guaranteed to have two rounds to submit stories.  The first two rounds would be scored and the writers with the largest total points would move to the third round.  The top performers in the third round would move on to the fourth and final round.  The Top 10 of the final round would win prizes.

The genre of my first story was Comedy.  I think of myself as a funny guy, so I thought the challenge was right in my wheelhouse.  The object I needed to include was an apple.  Okay, I could make something funny out of that.  The final prompt was the scene, and the random generator gave me a car wash.  WTF?!

I received the prompt at 11pm Central time on Friday and I had 48 hours to complete a 1,000 word short story with these prompts.  After the jump is my submission: "One Bad Apple."

            The weather had been oppressively hot and humid for over a week until a recent storm pulled the moisture out of the air and made the evening warm and pleasant, and a perfect opportunity to play basketball.  Greg drove while Marcus spun the basketball in his hands. They kept the windows open and enjoyed the cool breeze that poured into the car.  Once inside the cabin, the air began to circulate.  Marcus’ brow furrowed as he took a sniff.

“What’s that smell?  Is it something outside?’

“Nah,” Greg replied.  “I noticed it a couple days ago.  I’m hoping if I keep the windows open, I can air it out.  Maybe get an air freshener for the rearview.”

“That won’t work.  Unless you do something like in that serial killer movie with Brad Pitt.”

“You mean ‘Seven?’’

“At least,” Marcus answered, looking around the inside of the car.  “You may need about twenty to cover the stink.”

“No, the movie.  The title was ‘Seven.’”

“Whatever, man.  It definitely smells like something died in here.”

“It’s not that bad.  It goes away after a while.”

The park was about five miles from Marcus’ apartment.  The courts were usually full on the weekends, but during the week there were fewer people.  Marcus and Greg could play for an hour, then go for a couple of pints at the Leaky Barrel, their favorite watering hole.  They were just there the past Saturday.

“So, whatever happened with that woman you were chatting up at the Barrel,” Marcus asked.

Greg grinned. “Sarah?  We’ve been trading texts.  We’re having dinner tomorrow, maybe going bowling.”

“Are you meeting her there?”

“No.  I’m picking her up.”

“In this car?”

“Yeah.  Why,” Greg asked defensively.

Marcus was astounded.  “No woman is getting into a car that looks and SMELLS like this, Greg!  We need to get this thing cleaned up. Today!”

“Now?  What about the park?”

“Shooting hoops can wait.  We need to get to a car wash immediately and find whatever is making that stink.”

A short detour was all that was needed to find a self-service car wash.  Greg guided his car into a covered bay and parked near the hoses.  He and Marcus rolled up the windows and opened the doors.

“Wow, Greg.” Marcus exclaimed, taking inventory. “Papers, wrappers, soda cans.  It looks like a Dumpster fell over.  Why don’t you ever clean your back seat?”

Greg shrugged.  “I never see it.  Out of sight, out of mind.”

“Well, you are out of your mind if you think Sarah will want to ride around in this thing.  Seems every fast food place is represented back here.  All of this has to go.”

Marcus picked through the detritus collected behind the passenger seat.  Greg did the same on the driver’s side.  Garbage by the armloads was pulled from the back seat and tossed.  A dozen cans and water bottles were put into recycling bins.  Once the floors were clear, Greg and Marcus reached under the seats.  More bags, cans, and some old pens were pulled from those recesses.

“Hey, Marcus.  I found thirty-three cents,” Greg beamed.

“Great.  I found some French fries.  Want to trade?”

“Depends.  Are they still fresh?”

Marcus took one of the longer fries and broke it with a snap.  He returned the two halves to the pile, reached under the seat again and found a brown paper bag.  He started to pull out the contents.

“I guess you don’t always have fast food.  You made your lunch, too.  Here’s an empty sandwich bag, a crushed juice box, some dried out carrots, and . . . yeaaaaaah!”

Greg was startled by Marcus’ panicked, high-pitched scream and he banged his knuckles on the underside of the seat.  He looked up to see Marcus shaking his hand as if he had been stung by an insect.  Marcus brought his hand toward his nose and took a couple experimental sniffs at his fingers.  He erupted in a series of guttural dry heaves.

“You okay, Marcus?”

“I think . . . I think I found . . . what was causing that . . . that smell,” Marcus revealed with tears in his eyes.

Greg picked up the brown bag and turned it over.  Out plopped a soft, wrinkly, red-brown, stinking mass.  The deep dimple at the top still retained some of its original red color and the withered stem identified its origin.

“It’s an apple.”

“How long was it in here,” Marcus asked.

Greg replied, “I don’t know.  Probably a month.”

“Well get rid of it.”

“What’s the matter, Marcus.” Greg teased.  “Don’t you like apples?”

“Usually, but that one’s nasty.”

Greg gingerly picked up the apple by the stem.  “Here.  Take a bite.”

“Get that away from me,” Marcus warned.

Greg exited the back seat and walked around the back of the car to stalk Marcus.  He pretended to sniff at the apple before he offered it to him.  “It’s nice and ripe.”

“You look like you’re holding a dog turd.”

Greg advanced and Marcus scurried around the front of the car.  Greg followed, holding the putrid apple in front of him like a weapon.  Marcus retreated to the hoses on the wall.  He grabbed one and started the water.

“I’ll hose you down if you don’t throw that thing away.”

Greg took another step and Marcus sprayed.  In an incredible display of marksmanship, Marcus aimed the water jet at the apple dangling from Greg’s fingers and it exploded into a cloud of viscera.  Greg stood in wide-eyed horror as water and bits of apple dripped from his face and clothes.  

“I got some in my mouth,” was all he could manage.

“I’m sorry, Greg, but I warned you.”

“What the hell, man?”  He spit on the ground to clear his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus repeated.  “Here, let me help you get cleaned up and we’ll finish your car.”

Greg and Marcus locked eyes briefly, then broke into companionable laughter.

The other great thing about the challenge is each writer receives feedback from a panel of judges that includes what they liked about the story and what could be improved.  I always skipped over the positive to read "why don't you like me?!" comments.  In truth, even what I would call the 'negative' feedback is very constructive and not as bad as I think it would be.  Here is the feedback I received on my story.

WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY

{1739}  Such a good friend to pass up basketball in favor of forcing a friend to clean up their car before a date.  

{1970}  I like that the two guys in "One Bad Apple" actually went to a car wash to clean a stinky car instead of playing basketball. Yeah, Marcus had to convince Greg that it was a good idea, but that's what buddies are for. I like a good buddy story. Thanks!

{1610}  Congratulations on composing a logline that fires on all cylinders of the best of them, which are comprised of these three elements:

your Protagonist - Two Friends,

their Goal - to Clean a Car to prevent Trouble, and

an Impediment to that Goal: the Hijinks which ensue.

"The Leaky Barrel" ~ What a pathetically hysterical name for a Tavern!

Loved Marcus' Dumpster quip after taking inventory of the back seat.

Ewwwww ~ The fries! LOL! and "Here. Take a bite."

Aaaand le pièce de résistance:  "it exploded into a cloud of viscera."

Your dialogue wonderfully conveys a seasoned and comfortable bond between these two friends. 

WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK

{1739}  On first read, the narrative is bit too straight forward. Greg doesn't seem to care about anything, so there aren't really any stakes to getting the car cleaned.

{1970}  This is arguably a fun and humorous story. It's just a bit on ho-hum side. It follows a reasonably entertaining path, but a reader would be hard-pressed to remember it. The high point of rotten apple all over and in Greg's mouth wasn't the funny funny ha ha moment I was hoping for. It was predictable after the fact.  

{1610}  Formatting:Your Title is a tad MONOLITHIC, what with its large and bolded font. You could tame that down a bit.  Other than that, no complaints. This is a little gem.

Disappointingly, my story did not earn any points for the first round.  Adding to the sting was my Mom also participated in the challenge in another group and earned 14 points (2nd place) for her story.  After the initial sting, I was looking forward to the next round of the challenge.