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Parched [Revised 17 October 2007]
Foster didn't mean to cause any trouble at the MiniMart that day.
God, he was thirsty.
He rushed toward the back of the store where they kept the cold drinks. Sooty tar clung to his clothing and marred his skin after another day in the blistering sun. For a number of years Foster had worked as an accountant where he sat in a claustrophobic cubicle all day, but that pr**k Randy had laid him off.
Jobs were scarce now, so the only employment Foster could find was as a roofer. He had done this type of work prior to college, so it was easy enough to get his foot in the door, but he hated the mind-numbing repetition and the laborious process -- it was thirsty work, and he was glad that the day was finally over.
On the way to the cooler, he grabbed a bag of chips, waved to Mrs. Connor and winked at little Ronnie. He hadn't had time to shop lately, so Foster inspected the discount bin at the end of the aisle for anything useful. Perhaps he would stock up at Albertson's later, but leaving now was unthinkable -- his savage thirst kept him there until the scene played out.
When Foster reached the back of the store, the splendor of the display invited him to indulge his thirst, so he clutched the first bottle within his grasp and twisted the cap. The sizzle of carbon dioxide quickened his senses as he brought the bottle to his lips in anticipation.
Just as he felt the effervescence hit his lips, the clerk shrieked, "Hey! You gotta pay for that first, buddy!"
Slightly annoyed, he replaced the cap and hurried toward the front of the store where the other patrons fidgeted in the line as they waited to pay for their merchandise. He stood at the back of the queue, which barely moved because the clerk chatted on the phone while she rang up the items.
An elderly woman was next in line. She juggled several filth-encrusted cloth bags as she wiped a grey hair from her eyes. Her aroma stung the nostrils of the cashier and several customers who gasped uncomfortably as they backed away to give the old lady a wide berth. While she waited for her lotto ticket to print, she scratched her Lucky-7. "I won! I won! Give me five more tickets, sweetie."
That was the extent of her winnings, but she was hooked. She meticulously scratched the rest of her tickets while she searched for the elusive thousand-dollar winner.
Foster's thirst was incredible by this time and he could no longer wait. He opened his drink and attempted to take another sip, but the clerk noticed and again reprimanded him. He could barely speak because of his fierce thirst. He tried to lay the money on the counter, but this brought a protest from the rest of the patrons. One of them bellowed, "Hey, no cutting in line!"
Foster had no choice, but the wait was interminable. The aged grandmother finally moved down the counter to scratch her remaining tickets.
Finally, it was Foster's turn. He pulled the money from his pocket, but the lotto lady shoved her way in front of him for another round of winners. He couldn't take it anymore.
He pulled a pistol from his waist band and pointed it into the panicked crowd, then quickly turned toward the clerk.
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Comment by: - 2007-04-27 00:26
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Someone criticised you for beginning too many sentences with 'He', but I think that works well, adds to enforcing him at the center of the story, contrasting with all the events of the chracters surronding him. I think that aspect of the story is fine if the payoff- what comes next - is as good.
Very nice pacing. I could feel the characters thirst' and the mundanity of being in a supermarket when you have an urgent need/are in a hurry. Tightly written. A good read. Interested to read more. |
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Comment by: Shaun - 2006-10-11 08:06
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As someone else mentioned, too many sentences begin with 'he', and in the second paragraph, there are a couple of tense changes that could be changed and events that seem to read out of time, such as:
'He sauntered toward the back of the store where they kept the cold
drinks. He spent a blistering day in the sun; sooty tar clung to his
clothing and marred his skin. His urgent thirst lured him inside.'
In the above, I read it as Foster has sauntered to the back of the store, then he spent a day outside, then he enters the store.
As a (very) rough example, I might write the paragraph as:
'He sauntered toward the back of the store where they kept the cold
drinks. Sooty tar clung to his clothing and marred his skin after another day in the blistering sun. He used to be a bean counter, sat at a desk in a claustrophobic cubicle all day, but times had been tough. With experience gained prior to college, he now worked as a roofer, but it was thirsty work.' |
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Comment by: Jamilah - 2006-10-08 22:17
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| Then what? You do a great job of making the reader feel Foster's thirst and his desparation for that drink. And I like the way you describe the other people in line, especially the "lotto lady." Standing in line is something we can all relate to. I like the drama you added. |
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Comment by: fredav - 2006-08-27 00:46
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| This made me laugh. Haha. I've been nagged too, by a clerk from Ralph's supermarket cause I opened a Snapple but didn't pay for it yet. =) I definitely can relate to this..though it kinda left me hanging. I wanted to read more.. |
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| I really liked this story. I almost felt like I was the man in the story. I hate stores because of the long lines and I too have imagined going crazy and yelling at everyone. Even though some people think a gun may be too drastic, I don't think so. Even the most minor thing can cause someone to lose it, especially if they are in a really bad way. I mean, people have killed others just because they were looked at the wrong way. As one of the commentors from below said, anything goes. Anyway, I'll stop my rambling. A good read. |
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