Wednesday June 5th, 2013

The exercise:

Write about: the victim.

We didn't hear back from any of potential strawberry buyers so it was decided (for us?) that this week shall only feature two picks - Monday night and Friday morning. It works timing wise, and hopefully this hot hot heat we've been having won't result in too many overripe berries on Friday.

Speaking of the end of the week, Max is turning seven months old in two days. Ridiculous.


His rise to the top
Was hard-earned;
Mistakes acknowledged,
Lessons learned.

But friends came calling,
Wanting cash:
"Your ocean won't miss
this small splash!"

So he gave until
His excess
Became poverty -
What a mess!

He died penniless,
A victim of his
Own success.


Anonymous said...

I guess the strawberries keep better on the plants than they would picked and in the house :) Overripe berries are fine for jam, you know!
Hmm, I get the feeling that the first couple of verses came easy today and then you might have been a bit pushed for time. The first two verses are great, and the overall theme is amusing, but it does kind of fall a little flat there at the end.

The victim
Beaten down, trodden down,
Face in contact with the ground, Victim's trying to be tiny,
Trying not to be around.
Feet are kicking (stamping, stamping),
Fists are beating (they are hamm'ring)
A single scream sings through the air...
Someone's father comes in, running,
But the bullies are not there.
There's no sobbing (crying, howling),
There's no explanation to be had
"I must have fallen over,
I'm sorry – are you mad?"
Fifteen years go by quickly,
The victim's been to many lands,
He's working now in finance
And his assassin cuts off hands....

g2 (la pianista irlandesa) said...

"Let me see if I have the scenario straight." This is a case in which the two-elbow lean is almost insufficient for the amount of crazy. "You are the fifth person in as many days to contract me---and specifically me---to find the exact same target, with very specific instructions that she be very much alive. You all are offering, relative to their party, such incredibly handsome and nigh-on astronomical sums, I'm surprised they're not suiting up for the Astrophysics Fashion Week out past Polaris." My client says nothing, but his shoulders are set not for gloating, but for vengeance.
"You are the most recent person to come to me. You're offering the least, and yet the force of your offer suggests something else."

He leans forward as well. The light's shadow deepens the latent fury in his eyes. "Justice is at stake here."

"So I've heard," I start to say, but he cuts me off.

"Personal justice, you twit. Surely that must mean something to you."

"I wouldn't know a thing about it. And insulting my intelligence does nothing to help me say yes."

He growls deep in his throat. "The previous time I had contacted you, I was in a much higher position, a much better position."

"That's right, you were one of those high-flung Council people, weren't you?"

"'Were' is the operative word. It's because of her I lost that power."

"How's that?"

He shakes his head. "I lost a duel to her instructor, and I violated the terms of my loss."

"Pardon my saying so, but isn't that your damn fault?"

He moves to spring across the table to throttle me, but instead throws his hands to grip the edges. "She tripped me up!" he hisses. "The duel wouldn't have happened in the first place if she wasn't so obstinate!" His grip relaxes, but his features do not. "I found someone else in whom I could trust, and for whom I could be honored to offer my services---"

"Somebody else who just might toss you your next power fix, I remember that bloke."

"She again refused to be put into her place, causing me further embarrassment with my new employer. I finally succeeded, but with that success came my second dismissal at her hands."

"So she replaced you as your dealer's right hand man."

"I wasn't even that yet---"

"Then what's your problem?"

It's an unprofessional thing to say, I'll admit, and not a particularly good thing to say when you deal with the sort people I rely on for my livelihood.

I'm pulled to my feet and partway across the table. People are probably staring, but this guy doesn't seem to mind.

"I've been too sorely wronged by this turlingdrome to let it go unchecked anymore. You will either help or impede me. And you will be beyond the Maker's help if you impede me."

g2 (la pianista irlandesa) said...

Remember this guy? This would be him.

Marc said...

Greg - the feeling you got was quite right. It was my own fault for not correcting the pattern at the start, since it didn't match the ending I had in mind.

Wonderful work on your part on this one. Very powerful.

g2 - ah, good to see more of that guy. He seems to lead a rather interesting life :)