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Thread: Second Person

  1. #1
    Rogue Mutt
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    Second Person

    For the heck of it I decided to write a story in second-person (you instead of I or he/she). You think it's too weird or what?

    The thirtieth birthday is supposed to be the big one, the last hurrah of your youth and all that. With that in mind, you planned to go out with a bang in a place designed for it: Las Vegas. A whole weekend of drinking and debauchery that would make The Hangover seem like Leave It to Beaver.

    Then life had to come along and **** everything up. Some terrorist threat left your friends stranded in St. Louis, all except the one who had to stay home for a sudden appendectomy. Now instead of invading the casinos and strip clubs with your wolf pack, you’re left on your own to wander the Strip aimlessly.

    Oh, sure, you can still go to the casinos and the strip clubs. You have saved up plenty of money to fund this adventure. It just seems so pathetic to go solo like the loser who goes to the prom without a date. Going to a casino by yourself is for gambling addicts while going alone to a strip club is for perverts.

    With hands in your pockets, you trudge down the Strip with its glittering lights and swarms of people, almost all of whom are having a better evening than yourself. You stop in front of Caesar’s Palace to watch the water fountain spray up, the colors changing every few seconds.

    It’s not fair, you think. This was supposed to be the wildest night of your life, the one to cap off your whole twenties. Then you were going to buckle down, get that big promotion, buy an engagement ring, and ask your girlfriend to marry you. From there it would be the whole two-point-three kids and a dog in a subdivision thing. All of that stuff can still happen, but now it’ll be without the proper closure to life’s previous chapter.

    There seems no point standing around in front of the casino like a vagrant, so you decide to go in and at least hit the bar. A few drinks might help to take the edge off your mood. You can try at least a couple pulls on a slot machine too; with so much bad luck, you’re due for some good.

    As you near the front doors, you’re almost knocked over by some old guy in a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts. If you ever get to be like that guy, then it’ll be time to kill yourself. With that morose thought looming in your head, you stomp inside to be greeted by a twenty-foot statue of some Roman guy—probably Caesar since it’s his palace. There are signs pointing the way to the casino, the shopping plaza, the box office, the parking garage, and of course the bathrooms. None of them indicate where a bar might be, but near the casino seems like a good bet.

    The place is so big and the red hallways look so similar that it seems like you could get lost for days in here. It’s a lot different from the Indian casino back home where you walked in and the casino was right there. Just as well you wore your walking shoes today.
    The noise from the casino reminds you of when you used to go to the arcade. It’s not as dark, but it’s a lot smokier. You try not to cough like a sissy as you skirt the edge of the casino. As you figured, there’s a bar on one side of the casino. You weave your way through some tourists to reach the relative safety of the bar.

    There are a lot of giant flat screens showing just about any sport imaginable: football, basketball, hockey, horse racing, car racing, and even a curling match. There’s an open stool at one end of the bar to park yourself on; you just hope it’s not the favorite seat of some barfly who went to the can. Without anyone to have your back, you really don’t want to get into any fights right now.

    The bartender is a hot brunette with a rack about to pop out of her tight white top. She flashes a smile that’s probably just a professional courtesy. “What’ll you have, stranger?” she asks in a husky voice.

    “Give me a whiskey. Better make it a double,” you say in your best tough guy voice.

    “Problems?” she asks as she pours the whiskey into a glass.

    “It’s my birthday,” you say.

    “Well, happy birthday.”

    “Thanks.”

    “Don’t mind my saying so, but this doesn’t seem like where you should be spending your birthday. Not that I mind the company.”

    “Don’t I know it.” You tell her about what happened with your grand plans, pausing a couple of times so she can help someone else.

    The bartender pours herself a whiskey as she listens to your tale of woe. “A real bad break,” she says.

    “But I think my luck is turning,” you say, hoping you sound suave and not like one of those lame guys using a corny pick-up line.

    “You want something to make you feel awesome, I got just the thing.” She reaches under the bar to take out a plain brown vial. After twisting off the top, she shakes out a pink tablet. “Take one of these. It will totally change your life.”

    “What is it: X? LSD? It’s not a roofie, is it?”

    “It’s perfectly safe. I used one before my shift.”

    “What does it do?”

    “Take it and find out.” She grins at you. “Unless you’re scared.”

    Now that she has thrown down the gauntlet, you don’t have any choice, unless you want to look like a complete and total pussy. You snatch the pill of the bar to pop it into your mouth. You throw back what’s in your glass to wash down the pill. “Well?”

    “Give it a few minutes.” She turns to walk to the other end of the bar, her big, round ass shimmying with every step she takes.

    As she waits on some other guy, you don’t feel anything—except an urgent need to piss. You drop a twenty on the counter so the bartender won’t think you’ve left without paying. Then you bolt into the bathroom.

    [What does the pill do? Wouldn't you like to know. Hahaha.]
    Last edited by Rogue Mutt; 11-14-2015 at 01:46 PM.



  2. #2
    Rogue Mutt
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    That's what I get for posting on Saturday. Hahaha

  3. #3
    Member Writers Choice's Avatar
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    Jul 2015
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    Hey Mutt,

    You have an active imagination. I like the story above - a little teaser for your next book?? Umm, I don't suppose the pill transforms the person into something or someone else does it??

  4. #4
    Junior Member
    Join Date
    Oct 2015
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    10
    From my uneducated reader point of view it is intimidating. Have you heard of the Debtford Trilogy? Davies uses an intriguing first person narrative and keeps himself almost muted but acts as almost a conduit for providing the drama for the characters and moving the plot along. I personally hope to play with something like that in the future.

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