The Pen: Stories from the "Self Proclaimed Residential Satirist" of Neowin, Lenny Bruce!

[Lenny Bruce]

So I know that its kind of odd for someone to do this normally, but even weirder to do it on Neowin, but I just decided to submit a simple short story that I had written. I don't know why, but I did. I plan to update this topic weekly, and plan to attach my short stories here. I decided to put this in the general discussion because it says that the general discussion area is for topics that wouldn't fit normally in any other part of Neowin. I don't really know what types of stories I'm going to write, I planned to write satire, but it may change. Yes, I know that there are other sites that specialize in doing this and that posting this on a tech website would be stupid, but bear with me. I'm trying to refine my writing style, and seeing as so many Neowinians have been good to me and actually offered me feedback or comments, I decided to take a gamble on this. Thank you for reading this, and without further ado, I present my story. Please comment/like!

 

(Note: Couldn't figure out why Neowin's attach file function would not work with a .docx file.)

Walking Through.doc

[gohpep]

So I know that its kind of odd for someone to do this normally, but even weirder to do it on Neowin, but I just decided to submit a simple short story that I had written. I don't know why, but I did. I plan to update this topic weekly, and plan to attach my short stories here. I decided to put this in the general discussion because it says that the general discussion area is for topics that wouldn't fit normally in any other part of Neowin. I don't really know what types of stories I'm going to write, I planned to write satire, but it may change. Yes, I know that there are other sites that specialize in doing this and that posting this on a tech website would be stupid, but bear with me. I'm trying to refine my writing style, and seeing as so many Neowinians have been good to me and actually offered me feedback or comments, I decided to take a gamble on this. Thank you for reading this, and without further ado, I present my story. Please comment/like!

 

(Note: Couldn't figure out why Neowin's attach file function would not work with a .docx file.)

I would recommend just putting the story on the topic, instead of attaching a .doc.

[Lenny Bruce]

Mr. Sterns Comes Home; Or, ?Cracked Road on Lehman Street?

            It is March 14^th, 2008, and Mr. Sterns has come home. It is better that I tell you, before any other events are told, who Mr. Sterns is.

            I met Mr. Sterns one day while I was at his company. His company had made a killing in the stock market, and it seemed, more or less, that his company was going to get richer day by day. I wanted to see this legendary man, and so I did, that day, years before.

            I walked into his main office. There the man sat in his chair, talking to someone on the phone. He was corpulent, yet he exuded confidence and youth. This was around 2007 or so. He had a beautiful wife, beautiful kids, a beautiful house, and he was rich. I was pleased to make his acquaintance, and over the course of that year I maintained it, and he treated me to expensive lunches and such. Our friendship was then one of money, and not of true agreement to any ideology. But that was no matter.

            I had heard, through some newspaper or the other, that Mr. Sterns was having problems with his body. He had been taking these drugs, that were supposed to make him richer in mind and money, but instead they were creating a debilitating condition for him. He had lost over 100 pounds and was horribly thin; he was a far cry from the man I had met over a year earlier. When I spoke to him, he simply replied, in a hoarse voice, ?Don?t take the drugs. Don?t take the drugs.?

            I, being someone who was dictated by whim and curiosity, decided to search for the problem. I had gone to his town, Wall, in February of 2008. When I got to Wall I was pleasantly surprised by all the rich people who had made acquaintance there. This town was exceedingly rich, and they seemed to always party. It was said that Wall?s famous street Lehman, yes, Lehman (the gall, these people), was richer than any other street in America. It, Lehman, had the highest concentration of wealth in all of America, primarily to all the rich men and CEO?s who lived on that street. Those men in their suits seemed to trade money very quickly. Money was a very meaningful word here; money dictated everything in this town. To eat, you needed money, to walk, you needed money, and to sleep here, you needed money. This town wasn?t going to go bankrupt anytime soon. When I talked to Sterns? friends, many of them kept looking at their golden watches feverishly, like they were waiting for something to happen. I didn?t know what, and whenever I asked them they always told me that their money was in jeopardy. I thought it was some type of joke for these billionaires, so I never paid much heed.

            At the time, I was expensing my stay in Wall back to Mr. Sterns? company, Bear. I was simply an esteemed guest of Mr. Sterns, so I really wasn?t supposed to be using their money, but at that time, no one cared. I was living high at no cost, or so I thought.

            During this time however, Lehman Street seemed to fade and wither. More rich men were moving away, selling their houses, and buying cheap cars right before they moved. I was wondering what this exodus meant, this exodus of concentrated in a wealth in a city that was made on concentrated wealth, but there were still a number of parties and gatherings that I had gotten myself drunk at, so it didn?t matter. I had found out a startling bit of information; the drugs that Mr. Sterns had been taking had circulated throughout trades undertaken at Bear. That meant that these drugs were being sent to all the rich men and their companies. However, I was more or less addicted to Quaaludes at the time, so that important fact diffused through my stupor and haze. I had been in Wall for around a month, and I had steadily spent more and more amounts of money while losing everything in the process. For all of its faults, that practice was truly fun. It was exhilarating to live like that, without rules and without boundaries, money being the only thing that mattered. At that time, I had had a whole lot of money.

            March 14^th hit Wall like a block to the face. This was the day Mr. Sterns had come home. He was now vomiting regularly, and his wallet had definitely shrunk. He was in a state of distress and his mind was unraveling. But we all believed that it was possible to save him. One of his friends, Mr. Morgan, had used resources from his company J.P to give money to Mr. Sterns, in the hope that Mr. Sterns would get better and start making money again. I truly didn?t care for Mr. Sterns at that point, for the parties in Wall had really dehumanized and desensitized me.

            In one of many stupors during that time, I walked, or that?s what I thought I did, towards Mr. Sterns? house. The lights were on, and it was a cold night. The moon had a pale white light, a sickly pale light. There were voices in the house. Loud voices. Arguing.    

            I carefully crept to the front door, and found out that it was ajar. I went inside, fearfully. From the biting cold I was treated to warm bliss. All the walls were a beautiful white, and there were orange lamps dotted throughout the whole place, giving the house a warm demeanor. But the voices inside destroyed all that.

            ??what were you thinking?? screamed one voice. It was a woman. It was Sterns? wife.

The person who replied was mumbling and coughing a bit, ??.didn?t know? thought it would help-? I realized, to my horror, that that was the voice of Mr. Sterns. He sounded sickly. I was right behind the door to the living room. That was where wife and husband were arguing.

            ?Didn?t you ever think about what would happen?? Ms. Sterns shrieked. ?About what would happen to Wall? What would happen to our family??

            ?I didn?t ######ing know!? shouted Mr. Sterns, and then he lapsed into a fit of violent coughing. Impulsively, I barged in, and was treated to a most delightful sight.

            Mr. Sterns was standing in a pool of blood. The room had been torn apart. There was a broken TV, cracked of course, torn sofas, shattered lamps. Mr. Sterns was on the floor, heaving heavily, coughing as he did, and he coughed blood. Small amounts. It went everywhere, and some of it got on me. Ms. Sterns was there, her face streaked with tears, destroying the beautiful golden makeup that she had put on her eyes. Her hands cupped her face in horror as she saw her husband convulsing on the floor.

            ?We-?we need to? need the?? Mr. Sterns began, but trailed off in between fits of coughing. He was sickly now, his corpuscular mass having been eaten away by those drugs that had consumed him. His face was heavily lined and he had dark, dark circles under his eyes. His once pristine jet-black hair had vanished into a few thin strands of grayish hair, showing a scalp that had varicose veins. His lips were red with blood. Poisoned blood.

            Ms. Sterns was on the verge of tears, and she fell to her knees. She looked and pointed to me with a shaky finger, and she said, through thick sobs, ?People like you, DEVILS like you! You killed my husband, you killed him, you bastard, you sick, sick bastard!?

            I sputtered out a feeble ?No? but she wouldn?t listen. She simply looked again at the convulsing Mr. Sterns.

            It was at this moment that Sterns said, in a faint and hoarse voice, ?Get Morgan. Get him?Get Morgan on the phone. Tell him? tell him to come here. Help me.? With that, he vomited gallons and gallons of blood, dark-red blood, the corrupted flesh splattering everywhere.

            The medical personnel told me that I called for help and Mr. Morgan. I don?t remember any of this. I remember waking up in a hospital bed, weak and sweating profusely. Mr. Morgan stood at the foot of the bed, and said sorrowfully, ?He?s dead. I?m sorry, James. I?m sorry.?

            It then, in the back of my mind, clicked that I had lost an important friend in my life. But the most important thing was that my money supply would drain out. I would become penniless. I made a plea for J.P to give me a small sum of money, around two million, to make sure that I was okay for the next few years.

            He laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed, the bastard. He simply said, ?Well gee boy, I don?t see how I could possibly give you anything?I?M ######ING BROKE, ######! ######ING BROKE BECAUSE OF SCUMBAGS LIKE YOU THAT SUCKED THE LIFE OUT OF BEAR! ######! I AIN?T GIVIN? A DIME!?

            I begged for forgiveness and told J.P that Bear would have wanted me to be rich, and J.P simply replied, ?For what you did to him, he would have wanted you to die penniless. Goodbye.?

            To his credit, J.P covered my medical expenses and tickets back home. I took a stroll through Lehman Street a few days before my return flight. The night was cold, the moon was pale and sickly, and there were small snowflakes that were falling to the ground. There were a few houses left on Lehman Street, but they were decaying wrecks. The owners would most surely move away in a few weeks. I looked down, and saw that the road I had been walking on was heavily cracked. It surprised me that only a month ago it had been pristine and new. I knew. I imagined how all these men would react when they became penniless. It would be the funniest joke in history. And I was part of the punch line.

            I heard coughing from the houses behind me, and I silently said a prayer for those doomed men. And then, I coughed blood. Goodbye Wall. Goodbye Lehman Street.

[gohpep]

I mean, it is a good story, but I felt that I was glazing the whole thing over, the narrative was disembodied and did not go into much detail. I felt it skipped around a bit, but all of these problems are because of the length, except for the disembodiment, I didn't feel like I was witnessing the story. I didn't get a sense of feeling or attachment to these characters. Maybe a longer intro would help. It was a good read and I really liked the concept.