Post by Badger on May 27, 2008 20:35:33 GMT -5
Here is a very little story I recently finished. I tried to mimic Edgar Allan Poe's writing style.
O, the food – the wretchedly rotten food! I can see the miserable spread from where I am standing. Bloodied tomatoes nestled in lettuce. Golden yams and fried potatoes. Multitudes of asparagus pies, bathing and preening in the quiet light of the dinner candles. Black truffles, warty pickles, Greek peppers, rice patties, mushroom cream and shucked corn. Spiced apples, sugar peanuts and sickly chocolates - even a bowl of coconut soup imported from the east! But these make me gag. These comestibles make me cough. O, how my tongue longs for the taste of meat! How my teeth ache for a bite of succulent pork morsels, drowned in their own juice! My cheeks chatter; smoked beef enveloped in a thick gravy. My saliva flows; a fat steak, a plump sausage. Young sheep ears or even the flank of an old goat! - anything but these damnable plants!
I sit down at an enormous table. A grossly oversized plate, accompanied by a cheerful nappekin, is placed in front of me. Impeccable silverware; seventeen steel forks and nine iron spoons – O, spite! even an assortment of serrated knives! I stare with anguish as a large man in a tailored suit enters the hall and reclines at the massive table next to me. His fortune – laden with everything forbidden of me; everything I must deny. The panicked scream of my stomach. The pangs and moans of my intestines. I must resist! I must control! I must resort to gathering my meal of plants without bearing another thought to my twisted fantasy! Moments later, I hear the crack of a bone followed by a hearty, guttural laugh. Uncontrollably, my eyes (my detestable eyes!) glance over. There the enemy is gorging himself on a stuffed pheasant; juicy oils spilling out, dripping down his veiny and bloated throat. Back at my plate – limp strawberries and an overcooked broccoli stub! To hell with my conscience! I will not ingest the miserable roots any more! I overturn the table, dishes flying and crashing, clashing and colliding in the mess of rubbish.
Badger
O, the food – the wretchedly rotten food! I can see the miserable spread from where I am standing. Bloodied tomatoes nestled in lettuce. Golden yams and fried potatoes. Multitudes of asparagus pies, bathing and preening in the quiet light of the dinner candles. Black truffles, warty pickles, Greek peppers, rice patties, mushroom cream and shucked corn. Spiced apples, sugar peanuts and sickly chocolates - even a bowl of coconut soup imported from the east! But these make me gag. These comestibles make me cough. O, how my tongue longs for the taste of meat! How my teeth ache for a bite of succulent pork morsels, drowned in their own juice! My cheeks chatter; smoked beef enveloped in a thick gravy. My saliva flows; a fat steak, a plump sausage. Young sheep ears or even the flank of an old goat! - anything but these damnable plants!
I sit down at an enormous table. A grossly oversized plate, accompanied by a cheerful nappekin, is placed in front of me. Impeccable silverware; seventeen steel forks and nine iron spoons – O, spite! even an assortment of serrated knives! I stare with anguish as a large man in a tailored suit enters the hall and reclines at the massive table next to me. His fortune – laden with everything forbidden of me; everything I must deny. The panicked scream of my stomach. The pangs and moans of my intestines. I must resist! I must control! I must resort to gathering my meal of plants without bearing another thought to my twisted fantasy! Moments later, I hear the crack of a bone followed by a hearty, guttural laugh. Uncontrollably, my eyes (my detestable eyes!) glance over. There the enemy is gorging himself on a stuffed pheasant; juicy oils spilling out, dripping down his veiny and bloated throat. Back at my plate – limp strawberries and an overcooked broccoli stub! To hell with my conscience! I will not ingest the miserable roots any more! I overturn the table, dishes flying and crashing, clashing and colliding in the mess of rubbish.
Badger
