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Love rhymes with pity now.


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"Doctor, look at those tire tracks, his chest might cave in on his lungs any second now." is all I heard the nurse say as I lost consciousness. I don't remember much of what happened last night, but the doctor reassures me I flew eight goddamn meters out of my windshield and then got run over by a light-compact sports car, crushing my ribs and leaving tire marks on my chest , which is why every time my mother comes in I cover my torso up with the sheets so she doesn't wince in shock and scream and cry, the doctor said with a few skin graft treatments the whole problem should be fixed. She soon stopped coming in and the only person who came to visit me was Jane


The police statement said I was at Mickey's, a well-known nightclub down town. I remember the sole reason why I was there, to leave Jane. I met her four years ago today, she was dancing away at some vomit-stained frat party. After a few beers boosted my charisma, I marched over determined to get this girls number and maybe some other treats. Her red gown swayed as if it was on fire in the flashing disco lights, her brown hair shock furiously from side to side and her, well as quoted by my friend Kevin "violent gypsy dance". I introduced myself, Daniel Bitterman, but my friends call me 'Bitter', no, this isn't derived from my last name but for the reason that I only drink 4X Bitter, a beer imported from my homeland, Australia. I wasn't too sure whether it was my Australian accent or my keen fashion sense, but we hit it off. She suggested we go somewhere more quiet, so we went back to hers. She lived in a studio apartment overlooking Chicago city, I got inside and took off my jacket, I turned around to see Jane sliding out of her dress and standing bare-naked leaning up against the door, she slithered up against me and whispered into my ear,


"Do you want me?" teasingly, kissing my neck. I felt her up, she was so free just like a pineapple tree swaying in the breeze,


She felt the bulge in my pants and started to unbuckle my belt, I stopped her;

"Its dangerous to be so intimate." she was impressed,

"Alright, we'll take it slow pick me up tomorrow at 7." she shut the door on me and I walked the streets until I heard the hum and saw the glow of a faithful yellow taxi which would take me home.


The next four years was casual dating, on and off. But I started wanting something more serious, she wasn't too interested and said she wanted to finish off her medical degree before she found a relationship, I didn't want to wait. I wanted something real now. Her figure had started to drop and I guess it was sort of shallow of me, but she began to pile on the pounds. I traded her in like some old sports car for a better brand, a girl with fake porno tits and a lock on her lips. She used a lot of fake tan and was a skinny little thing with blonde hair, her name was Megan, she was a 20 year old secretary who had already been married but said things didn't go too well. Judging by her BMW and the size of her house, I like to think things went extremely well. I called Jane to tell her to meet me at Mickey's.


We argued on the footpath, I finally told her I wanted something more, a tear fell from her eye and she pulled a small jewelery box out of her bag and threw it at my chest, my stomach dropped. It was an engagement ring. I wished her better luck in the future, got into my car and drove down the highway. Little to my knowledge some young youths had deflated my car tire and I spun out of control when I hit 100, I slammed into the traffic divider and then a semi-trailer plowed into my car. I flew out of the windshield and hit the harsh gravel as I lay there trying to recover, a car came skidding to a halt, but with no avail trampled me then smashed into the burning carcass of my car. Fire and glass surrounded me as more cars piled up around me, the firemen pulled me out of the wreckage. I had some serious head wounds that when they asked me for my name I couldn't remember it.


But back at the hospital, when no one comes to visit me anymore, Jane arrives when I'm asleep, that red gown was always on fire.


She met her new man after the week I had left her, turned out he was just some lowly garbage collector. He lived in some beer-soaked apartment with pizza crusts and porno mags lying around, he talked her out of that red gown and did all the things I had been waiting for, the things I said I never wanted. On the night of the accident I think God was playing a joke on me, those red and blue lights were laughing at my skull, yesterday my burden was given a name, yesterday my burden was given a face.


It's not that great, I based it off a song.




Edited by ~PhusioN~
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I'm gonna take a shot in the dark here and assume you used to visit this forum quite a bit. The writing itself has a vague rust to it, as if you haven't written in some time. Overall, I like it. It's a breath of fresh air to the stereotypical action pieces that are scattered around here.


The only thing wrong with it, other than the revived veteran feel, is also in the way you write: grammatical errors. It's nitpicking, I know, which is why I won't get into details (unless you want me to), but I'm just letting you know they're there.

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Dig in there, I have nothing better to do today but to improve my writing skills. turn.gif

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I don't even think they'll improve your writing. At the end of your quotes, place a comma, not a period. There are a few fragments and run-ons (rather, awkward-worded sentences) lurking about, and you're missing a few words here and there. That's why I called it nitpicking -- there's not much to improve on.

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