First story for ENGL 408: Advanced Narrative Writing

All right, this is my sort-of final draft for a story I was assigned to write in my ENGL 408 class. The name of the exercise was called "Constraint Writing." Basically, you are to write a story with certain restrictions.

1) Either omitting the use of the letter "e" or "o"

2) Every word must contain the same letter.

3) Only one-syllable words may be used.

My group came to the decision to strike out the letter "o," and this is what I came up with. Let me know what you think, please! Criticisms are very welcome. It would be highly appreciated!

The Klutz

My best friend had sex the first time at my 18^th birthday party. I was a sputtering and bleeding baby, apparently. I came in just by midnight and wasn’t up and breathing until minutes later, when the day started anew. I came appearing purple, lungs filled with birth fluid, and perhaps an umbilical strangling my neck. I’m entirely unsure of the exact details, but this is what has been detailed thus far. My birthday is technically August 5, but my parents decided I was truly alive and breathing August 6. That means my friend Anne crawled up in a furious pile, blankets and sheets, the night I turned 18, August 6. Anne has been evading me. I haven’t seen her in weeks, since my birthday. As a friend, her best friend, I believe I am entitled to hear her risqué tale.

She was lying in a clump in her family’s kitchen, limbs bent, with her head buried in her hands when I finally caught her. I said I was her best friend. I said I was listening if she needed me.

“I’m stupid,” was all she said, mustering the strength between hiccupped gasps.

“That isn’t true! Anne…”

Well, I can’t lie. She wasn’t a very bright girl. Anne treated myself and a few friends with Disneyland tickets last summer. Her aunt apparently had reduced rates, maybe free tickets, I wasn’t quite sure. My friend Benji and I were waiting restlessly, right by the Disneyland gates. The day was turning blazing and I was beginning to feel uneasy. After waiting what seemed an eternity, I finally rang her cell, asking why she wasn’t in Anaheim and what was keeping her.

“Hey Jamie! We’re all in the park already!” She sounded like she was screaming in my ears. “I can meet up at the gates. I have the tickets.”

I stared at Benji. We exchanged exasperated gazes, and I sighed heavily.

“Benji and I are already at the gates. We’ve been waiting awhile.”

“Ah,” she screamed again. “Well, I’ll be there then.”

We hung up. Benji and I kept waiting and didn’t see Anne at all. Minutes later, my cell rang again and I was quite frankly delighted in hearing that screeching Anne again.

“Where…at the gates?” she asked, a little quieter, thank heavens.

“Right where it says ‘Disneyland Park.’ At the bag check…”

“Disneyland?” she said, trailing the last syllable.

“Yeah, isn’t that where we’re meeting up?”

“Did I say Disneyland? Hmm. My bad…”

The girl meant Six Flags! All her friends, and my friends, were at Six Flags, because she neglected discussing with me her change in plans. Benji felt bad that I was near tears, and the fact that I was upset with Anne and her flightiness. He paid my way in Disneyland and I managed my anger at the “happiest place” with him. Besides, I liked it better than Six Flags, anyway.

After that incident, it didn’t take that much time disregarding Anne. These things were exactly her, erratic and unchangeable. I tried relying trust in her later in the year. I was having a fire at the beach and asked her if she might bring, essentially the basic item needed in a fire.

“Hack a tree, find it at Ralphs, the hardware place, wherever, just please bring it. And please be there early.”

When she arrived, timber-less, but arms full with graham crackers and candy, I had seen it all and had little patience. Yet I didn’t stay mad at her. She did have endearing qualities, I guess. I can’t be heartless. I was utterly sympathetic when I witnessed her blubbering mass in the kitchen. I wrapped her arms in mine and tried calming her.

“It was just that single time. The birthday party,” she said.

“Mine,” I muttered dully. She flinched a bit. “I didn’t expect this, Anne. Was there a breakup? Please tell me that he used—”

“He had rubbers. But that isn’t why I’m upset.”

She had me in a riddle. Why was she depressed and why had she neglected speaking with me all these weeks?

“Well why then?” I asked, feeling like pulling teeth.

“I’m upset because I didn’t reach the Big…” She whispered the last bit in my ear. She didn’t want it heard by her family.

“Ah, it’s an elusive um…letter, isn’t it?” I huffed, suppressing giant guffaws and a grin that reached my ears.

(Note: Please don't steal my work, or anyone else's work. And really, if you're going to steal something, make sure it's Stephen King, geez!)