Sunday, November 16, 2008

Absolutely Not!

I'm already embarrassed by some of the barely edited posts floating around this blog, so when readers after my last post began requesting that I display, for my further embarrassment, stories I wrote in childhood, I said no way. Besides, most of my early work is no longer extant, with the important exception of that pirate story I dictated to my kindergarten teacher and which she faithfully transcribed.

However, it appears I do have most of my attempts from middle and high school, excepting the hundred-page novel rough draft I typed on a Tandy 1000 in seventh grade. Looking back on the way I used to write, I have to admit I think it's pretty funny. Maybe you will too. At the very least, a brief excerpt ought to silence everyone who wants to see my early work. Behold, then--be blinded by a chunk of unedited rough draft from high school:

The Insectoid glared with all-seeing compound eyes at the monitor before him. The picture was fuzzy, and loosing stability.

"The camera in my pet’s eye was damaged by the fall, and it is not repared."

With a powerful, armor-plated arm, he waved an elaborate guesture in the air and closed his eyes to concentrate. He spoke angrily to the monitor, screaming at it in sharp hisses. Slowly, the white fizz of the flourescent screen faded, until it lay only at the edges. The Insectoid spoke again.

"Bach’tarah’gak’tah’dak’kgagdk’noak’krok’bok’dok’fok’tok’trouuck."

The monitor reluctantly cleared.

The Insectoid crossed two of his arms in front of him and glared at the dim screen, elevated above the floor, from his dark cove. The picture showed him exactly what he wanted to see. He slammed a powerful fist mightily onto the corner of his dismal throne.

"Simple-minded fools! I have them where I want them. They will not escape me. None shall squirm between the fingers of my omnipotent wrath. The pitiful slimes shall writhe beneath my crushing boot!" The powerful voice rang with electric force throughout the depths of the black, cavernous room.

"My pet has already spied for me enough, and its weakling flesh is well-repaired. See now my indestructible armies of Undead shall smash their puny attempts at defiance!"

A great hand sliced down and smashed into a button at the Insectoid’s right hand.

After that, the great hall was filled with the bone-chilling sounds of deep, maniacal laughter, bringing on the creators of doom.

Yes, the bold text is in the original. And yes, in my early days, I wrote a lot like Thea von Harbou. Now don't ask for any more of that, because you're not getting any. Ever. But I do admit I would like to see "Bach’tarah’gak’tah’dak’kgagdk’noak’krok’bok’dok’fok’tok’trouuck" go viral and show up in weird places, sort of like "All your base are belong to us."
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