Two short exercises

Here are two short exercises from class.

The first is a description. Describe an object, a mood, an idea, an emotion or a combination. You can't directly state it.
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The car was a 1996 blue-green Dodge Neon. It was my first real car, my only favorite car. I cannot conceive of any car taking its place, despite its apparent crappyness. I got it when I was 18, after a disastrous experiment with a Chevy Nova. She was perfect for a whole year. One day, her speedometer went dead. It wouldn’t go back on, so I hit it and it worked. I soon discovered that violence was the only language she understood. She leaves me without a measurement of speed, I hit her, and she straightens out.
She leaves me out in the cold when she doesn’t start and I whack her starter around with a lug wrench and she gets the idea and starts up and purrs like a kitten. Same with the fuel pump. She decides to stop working and I give her a good kick or a whack with the lug wrench in her fuel tank and she gets the message. It seems like she likes it.
But, she breaks. When I’m driving in the rain, the wiper arm comes loose and hangs from the car like some grotesquely broken limp. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to make you cry. Let me take this socket wrench and make it all better. Why do you make me do this to you?
Then she goes and pulls the same stuff again, her radio stops working, so I need to hit her, to make her understand that she needs to be more reliable. It’s a mutually abusive relationship, I guarantee you. She stops shifting gears and it’s 25mph all the way home, that’s more physical punishment than I could ever dish out.
But, she coughed up so much car blood out of the tail pipe and wouldn’t pass emissions. Why did she make me get rid of her? I should have done more. I should have tried harder. Why did she leave me, why did I leave her?

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The second is a dialogue in which two characters each have something to hide. Neither can openly state what it is.

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Jim tried to close the door as quietly as he could. The lock clicked a little too loud. He turned around and standing before him was his roommate, Bob.
Jim sighed, “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”
“Jesus, Jim. You look like hell,” Said Bob concernedly, “Is that broken?” Bob pointed to Jim’s nose.
“Yeah, probably. I ran into a wall.” Jim said, tentatively probing the bridge of his nose. He grabbed it and it made a crackling sound. “Ah, shit,” he sighed.
“A wall, huh?” Bob turned and walked away slowly. “Wait,” he turned, “Were you in or out of my car?”
Jim grimaced as he continued to probe his nose with is right hand. He raised his unused arm and hissed. “I’m going to go sit down.”
Bob tried to usher him onto a chair in the living room, but Jim kept walking from the door to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Naw, I’m going to lay down and get some sleep.” Said Jim.
Bob quickly moved to block Jim’s movement. “No, you can’t do that!”
Jim raised his eyebrow as far as his swollen face would allow.
Bob spoke quickly, “I saw on TV that if you have a head injury, you shouldn’t lie flat or sleep. Why don’t you sit here in the living room? Maybe watch some TV?”
“That’s bullshit. No, I’m tired and I want to sleep.” Jim was resolute.
“Well, why don’t you sit for a while and I’ll make up your bed. It’s wash day, after all.”
“No, it isn’t. Saturday is wash day. What did you do that I can’t go in my room?”
“Oh, ha ha, nothing. I just washed your sheets and they’re downstairs in the dryer. I just put them in before you got home.”
Jim sighed, “So, I’ll use another pair.” He tried to walk past Bob, but an arm stopped him, spanning across his chest. Bob’s sleeve moved up and Jim saw that he had been bleeding.
“Bob,” Jim spoke, “Your arm looks like my face. What happened? Is that a bite mark?”
Bob drew his arm back and lowered his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. “I…um…cut it on the wall downstairs doing laundry, you know how the landlord was building a wall and all those nails are sticking out. I slipped and grabbed out for it, cut myself. Does it look like a bite? I never noticed.” Bob walked half the distance to the hallway. “Um,” he gnawed on the inside of his cheek, “So, where’d you park my car? I’ll need to know for the morning.”
Jim waved in general out the window, “Just in front of the building.”
“Jim,” said Bob, “there’s no parking there, I’ll get towed.”
“No, no. Don’t worry, it’s just down the road where it says ‘parking’.”
“That’s for another building, you’d better move it. Where are the keys?”
“I dropped them on the table by the door.”
“No you didn’t. I saw you come in.”
“Huh. I must have missed. If nothing else, in the morning you can use your spare set. And I’ll find the keys tomorrow when I get up. Assuming, you’ll let me past.” Jim walked toward Bob and tried to sidestep him. Bob placed himself in Jim’s way. “Dammit, let me by. What the?” Jim looked beyond Bob and saw a woman’s clothes. “Oh, I see. You don’t have a girlfriend and you couldn’t have gone anywhere since I had your car… You hired a hooker and did her in my bedroom, you sick fuck!”
Jim pushed Bob out of the way, stormed to his bedroom door and hammered on it with his good hand, “Hey, lady. You can try to hide, but I’m coming in and you’re getting the fuck out!” He turned the doorknob and slammed the door open, driving the inside doorknob into the wall, holding the door in place.
There was no one in the room. Jim turned to Bob, “Where is she hiding? She didn’t leave since her clothes are still here. Why does my room smell like bleach? What did you two do in my fucking room while I was out?”
Bob sighed, “Go get the car and I’ll explain.”
“It’s down the street! Explain now and maybe I’ll get it.”
“Fine.” Bob breathed in deeply, held it, let it out. “I hired a hooker. We did it in your bedroom and she left.”
“Why are her clothes still here?” Jim pointed into his bedroom, “And why is my katana missing?”
“Get the car,” said Bob, “We need it.”
“I can’t. I was going to call the cops about it.”
“The cops? We don’t need any cops. Whatever it is, we can handle it. Look at this, we’re handling it fine.”
Jim stared at Bob and screamed, “We’re handling it? What are we handling? All I see is a hooker’s clothes, a freshly cleaned room and a big garbage bag full of what I assume to me all the missing stuff from my room.”
“Just get the car.” Bob sighed.
“I can’t!” shouted Jim.
“Why can’t you get it?”
“Because I had to leave it. When I hit the wall, I lost the keys.”
“When you were running and ran into the wall?”
“Sure.”
“Where’s my car? Seriously. We need it.”
Jim looked up at the ceiling, “It’s, um…over on Main Street. We’re going to need tow truck. What’s in the bag?”
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Can you guess what the secrets are? bob killed a hooker and jim trashed bob's car

Updates should become more common

I'm taking a creative writing class at the university to fulfill a general education requirement and I'll be posting my class work here both as a way to share it with the class (who will hopefully offer constructive comments) and to share with everyone who wants to read it.

I'll probably post the first assignment tomorrow or saturday.