Wow, you have a pretty interesting name! Anyway, I'm taking and
English class at the University of New Orleans, and am struggling
to some extent to write a paper. I was wondering if you could give
me some tips. Maybe you could just write it for me. It's a 500 word
narrative.
God Bless,
Vanessa
Some tips, huh? Might I suggest, ummm, hold on. Give me a minute
to think about this. Ok. I don’t have any tips. But you say you
need a narrative, eh? Here ya go.
A Narrative
by Hogan
This is a story which was born out of frustration and anger.
Years of betrayal had left me cold and unyielding in my day-to-day
affairs…
So began the memoirs of Jack Nelson Patterson. Of course, he
had no idea at the present time that he would ever sit down
and write anything close to book, much less one of an autobiographical
nature that would go on to sell an obscene number of copies
and therefore establish him as one of the “hot writers of tomorrow”
by People magazine. The way he saw it was that his life was
pretty much like that any other college junior. It hadn’t been
extraordinary up until now, and the odds of him doing anything
extraordinary in the near future was certainly not on his to-do
list.
He did, however, have a to-do list that went something to the
effect of, buy milk, buy bread, buy Ramen, chastise obtuse roommate
for being so obtuse, write 500 word narrative. He stared at
the list with a small amount of disdain before grabbing the
keys to the ’91 Chrysler minivan he had inherited from his parents
upon leaving for college.
They had been adamant in telling him that it was the picture
of practicality. That any number of friends (about six- he had
counted) could hop in for a ride, and it was the perfect vehicle
for hauling stuff around. They had failed to realize that, one,
he had only about six friends and therefore if they ever happened
to be going to the same place he was always the one to drive,
and two, he didn’t have much stuff to haul around. This basically
left him with not as much pocket money as he would like as a
result of buying so much gas (which also lead him to buying
nothing more extravagant to eat that milk, bread, and Ramen),
and he became the go to guy when any of his six friends decided
it was time to move. This happened more than he reasoned was
necessary, but they were his friends and who was he to tell
someone how often they should move?
He padded across the parking lot, inspected the faux wood paneling
along the side of the car that was coming looser and looser
as the years crept by, and got in. The drive was like most of
the drives he took, which was to say, uneventful. As was the
trip to the store and the drive back home. Uneventful.
After storing the groceries in the pantry of the large, yet
old and slightly decrepit apartment he shared with his roommate
and placing a note that clearly forbade anyone from touching
his milk in the fridge, he crept upstairs to start on the narrative
for his creative writing class.
The started at Jack the same way he stared at it, with a blank
expression of boredom as if to say, “what the heck am I doing
here, anyhow.” Jack didn’t think this, he merely stared at the
screen with an expression that conveyed it, and he was instead
actively daydreaming about Sherry, the girl he sat next to in
the creative writing class that may or may not have showed interest
in him at the beginning of the week. The computer, on the other
hand, did think this quite often and presently began mulling
over the thought of shutting down for no apparent reason just
to have something to do for a change.
“This sucks,” Exclaimed jack.
“Indeed” thought the computer.
He got up to get a drink. Upon opening the fridge he noticed
that his milk was not there, but instead was open and sitting
on the counter. He poked his head around the corner to see his
roommate sitting on the couch watching a reality dating show,
a huge half eaten container of Oreos in his lap, and a tanker
of Jack’s milk in his hand, complete with an array of various
sized crumbs floating in it.
His roommate let out a bellow of laughter at something that
surely was anything but funny, then finished with a prize-winning
belch. Jack Ducked back into the kitchen and thought to himself
“I have got to get my own place.”
