At the request of one* of you =p I'm posting a little bit of the novel I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. I reached 10,000 words last and I decided that I'll post a little bit each 10,000 words. Keep in mind that this hasn't even been proof-read, much less revised and edited. Also, it's not that good. So with no context whatsoever here is the second chapter of my novel:
I don’t want to tell my entire life story though. Tha
t would be terribly boring and absolutely pointless. It would be a tale about a man who has never done anything of note. I want to tell about a few nights ago. What happened that night is way more interesting than anything that happened to me before then. It might not even be that interesting, but if I’m going to tell a tale about myself, it wou
ld be this.
It was just a few days ago, but the weather was very different. In the meantime, Indian Summer has kicked in. That night it was quite cold. I don’t mind that though since I much prefer the cold air as winter approaches than the warm air of summer.
It had been a pretty typical day. I went to class, didn’t say much for the hours I was there and then came home. I made myself a meal and then went up to my room. I had spent hours playing Call of Duty. Then there was an unusual occurrence. My ce
ll phone rang.
The ringing isn’t necessarily all that rare, but what is rare is that it wasn’t the annoying ringtone that I had assigned my father. People calling me who aren’t my Dad is so infrequent that I forget what ringtone I gave someone else. Though just knowing that it isn’t him increases the odds of me answering by basically infinity.
It was my friend, Nick. I can’t say I was expecting it to be him. I mean his probably the person I hang out with the most and one of my best friends, he just doesn’t call often. He also fails to call back most of time. I slid open my phone.
“Hello,” I said.
“What’s up, man?” he asked.
“Not too much,” I said, “How are you?”
“Alright, Alright,” he said, “Did you know Pat’s in town?”
“No,” I said
“He is,” he said, “He wants to go out to a strip club. You wanna come?”
In a moment I made the decision to say, “Yes.” I’d never been to one before and I’d really never had any desire to. Still, I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to
hang out with two of my best friends.
“Cool,” he replied, “Meet us there at like seven.”
“Ok,” I said, “Where the hell is it?”
He told me where and I was surprised by how far out of town it was. It was just off some exit in middle of nowhere. I didn’t go that way very often, bu
t I’m pretty sure that it was one of those exits that has the giant fucking gas stations for truckers and some fast food or some shit.
“That’s pretty damn far isn’t it?” I said.
“Yea,” he said, “but Pat said he’s been there before and he liked it.”
“Alright,” I said, “I’ll be there.”
“See ya, man,” he said.
“Bye,” I said, hanging up the phone.
I immediately felt my usual butterflies that preceded any social interaction. I suppose that were probably worse considering the specter of strange naked women and a new experience. It’s nice though that there was time for me to settle down a bit before having to get ready; though when I did start to get ready, they returned as expected.
I put on the jeans I had worn that day, found a new t-shirt to wear, and threw on my Cleveland Browns hoodie. I probably checked to see if my wallet, cell phone and keys had five times before I finally left the house. I always did that. I could be certain that I had it and still pat my ass to make sure my wallet hadn’t gone missing.
I got into my crappy car, stuck the key in the ignition and turned. It started up fine, but it also came with an annoying whine from the loose belt tensioner
. It’s pretty annoying and embarrassing, but the way Dad likes to rotate cars it’s hardly worth paying to fix.
I went to the bank. It is a bit of an awkward transaction really to go into your bank and ask for a shit ton of ones. There’s no pretending that you’re up to anything else. It’s not like you can say I just need the money, because I really dig vending machi
nes. It’s even worse that all the tellers are women. Whether they give a damn or not, I always feel they’ll see as a guy needs to go to a titty bar.
It’s a weird traffic flow when you have to cross the city during rush hour. You end up finding exactly where the cities center is though, because it’ll go s
moothly as you drive up to that point and then suddenly it will turn to shit when you join the outbound hoards. Eventually though, I got far enough way the heart of the city that it wasn’t shitty. Out of the city, I could see the big farm equipment starting the harvest in the seemingly endless fields on either side of the road.
I eventually got to the exit and as I suspected it was one o
f those trucker’s havens. There were three gas stations, a McDonalds, a Wendy’s, a Cracker Barrel and of course a porn shop. The strip club wasn’t hard to find. They really lack in subtly, those titty bars. There was flashing neon that stood bright against the twilight. They read, “Nude Girls” and “XXX.” I parked, shut off my engine, which mercifully ended that whining noise and sort of braced myself.
*Given my number or readers, one person is actually a si