FANDOM


    • Second Draft in the comments.

    This is my entry for the DH contest and if you're reading this and are finding trouble finsihing/moving on due to quality issues, please let me knoew because the contest has less than a week left till due date and I have other projects I want to write. In short, if this isn't too good I have other stories I want to do and will scrap this. I manily looking for major issues like Humor, Plot and general quality not things like spelling mistakes. I can fix those with lots of coffee and editing if I decide to go through with this. Thanks a lot in advance.

    I am a dead. If so, how am I writing this? What, just because I’m pushing up the daisies, I can’t touch pens; just because I’m a waft of mist, I can’t interact with the psychical world? How do you account for Marilyn Monroe being toucherd down there while asleep in some hotel in Las Vegas? JFK killed her, by the way. Call me biased but I might have adjusted Oswald’s aim a bit.

    I'm here to tell you all about the afterlife. Being dead is fun; assuming you stay on earth, you basically have the power of invincibility and immortality(immorality may a side-effect). I mean when you’re dead and see a hot chick walking down the road or you go to visit your favorite celebrity it’s kinda hard not to molest them. I mean the consequences are minimal and you get to have the most fun ever.

    I was raised catholic. Or at least I raised myself catholic; when mommy and daddy were off drinking or snorting coke from each others assholes I was off sitting in a corner, crying. I chose to believe in God so I could have a friend, a man who understood me. A gleam of hope.

    My parents OD'd and I was left an orphan on the streets until I was of the drinking age, when I got a job as a caretaker at St. Loius' church. There, I witnessed a priest molesting a child. Cliche? Yeah, but this was commonplace when people whacked you for being gay. Hey, Some hundred year-old piece of paper which could have been written by a lunatic says gay's are evil? That must be true then! Stone the fags!

    I may in the unintellectual majority of people, but I'm so blind as to put up with people killing others because they like to stick it into something... manly?

    I can't exactly remember what happened after that because I lived the life of a rockstar, baby! Whores, gin and opium. Who remembers opium? It was the shit back in the day. I remember one night I woke up in a diaper, under a bridge besides a naked hobo and AIDS. The hobo's birdie was erect 24/7 and he liked to fuck; I decided to leg it the fuck out of there but he chased me halfways across the country while rubbing his cock. He caught up with me and I got a taste of what prison's like. That was the fever pitch for me, I decided to hunker down and get a job at a nursing home. I donated all my money to charity and lived humbly. I just couldn't endure a life-style like that, soon every single tragedy in my life came crashing down on me like a carload of whores. I bought some rope and hung myself.

    I felt the tremendous pressure crush my spine and felt a cold, shuddering presence exit my body with my last breath. I wasn't breathing any more and I couldn't move, I was just swaying in midair like a puppet. Suddenly the room started to shake as if an earthquake awoke in fathoms beneath the earth, the light from the window dimmed and soon the room was as dark as a whore's ass. I saw cracks open in the walls and shafts of light broke through; neither candle nor sunlight but some wierd light with a quality of... hope and joy in them. I can only descirbe it with emotion because I rather felt their texture than seen it. The word blurred and I felt like I was shrinking, drifiting away from the earth while shrinking. Like Alice in the Wonderland. I drifted towards the light and became ungulfed by, it entered my soul, body and mind. Then I blacked out.

    Okay, if any of you fuckers wanna off yourself, be fucking smart and choose the way that doesn't involve your spine slowly cracking under tremendous pressure. If you're suicidal, Hemmingway that bitch. Now, this is the juicy part

    I awoke in a white room. I felt a throbbing agony in my back. I hoisted myself up, trying to recount when exactly did I cave to some of Uncle Sam's medicine. A door opened. The door was as white the walls and the walls were as white as the door. Two men dressed in two-piece suits walked in and told me:

    "Mr. Willie Stroker, your trial is due in half an hour, please follow."

    I did. What else was I supposed to do? They lead me into a waiting room, it was like the room of some mansion, elegantly carved pillars, gleaming oak walls and a fucking carpet that cost more than my fucking girlfriend's virginity, which is like ten fancy dinners. Yes, the tenses are right. Toffees and cakes and marmalade were laid out of a oak table facing a luxury sofa. I hadn't ate anything nice in two decades so I reached out to grab a toffee; as soon as the direction of my hand became apparent a riding crop descended upon my hand.

    "Uh-uh," said one of the two men, he held the painful instrument, he pointed towards the back left corner of the room. There was a plastic chair table. On the latter was a ham sandwich and an apple.

    "This," riding crop man said. "Is for you."

    I strode over to what appeared to be the kind of halloween candy you get from old ladies living in suburban homes with a collection of cats. I guess it's better than the gooey, white type you get from fat old men with mustaches.

    I became less convinced that I was high or dreaming. I mean, could I really hate myself enough to sentence myself to that. I have to admit, though, baphomet makes one mean ham sandwich. My back still hurt so much that I winced everytime I moved and squeeled when I sat down and yelled when I got up.

    When the time of trial came I was escorted into a courtroom you'd see on judge Judy if you were retarded enough to watch that show. There was a sofa in the middle; on it sat an old, crippled man in a white robe, and a handsome young man in a three-piece charcoal suit. There was a stiff wooden chair for me to sit on, bang in the middle of the Berlin wall of body language between the two. The trial was boring, they told me what I did good and wrong and spat at me, smiled at me, screamed at me, laughed at me and other shit; they also assured me that it was real, that I was in purgatory and that most probably fucked.

    "I should have him if he didn't clean old people's ass'," the young man said, "I mean, lucifer would fucking crawl out of fucking hell if this tool came with me."

    "You should have him?" Barked the old dude, "You would not have intercourse with a man because

    "Fine, then, you old fuck! He can be a midriff, the lucky bastard," Satan said, and, as an afterthought: "Hey, go rape a chick or two so you can check out my place. If you feel masochistic and wanna see Sunday school, go save a kid."

    Before I could reply, God hollered for the two guys from the outside and they lead me through a few sets of doors to a place called "Arrivals," a neon sign marked the purely white train station with a recoptionist desk.

    An old lady sat behind the desk, shuffling through files and chewing bubble gum.

    "I need a cab for earth." Barked one of the two guys. One was dressed in black, the other in grey. The one in black was barking.

    "Don't tell me Jesus fucked up again. What, is this guy's mother fucking Teresa? You know how hard it is to fake surving a broken spine?"

    "Nah, hon, he's a lucky 'un, he's about as dead as the fucking pope. So give 'im his fuckin' rulebook and holler for a cab, I got a church boy and pedo in line, and Sate 'ill kick my ass again if I don't handle 'em both in time."

    The lady handed me a leather-bound book about the size of 120 days of Sodom. I looked at her questioningly and she said,

    "Half of that is the bible, quarter's the Satinca Britannica, love, the other quarter's the actual rules. That'd be the last part, by the way."

    "Thanks," I murmured, uncertain. I wondered where's the Satinca Americana but I was too shocked to speak. There were stark white train track behind the receptionist and a tunnel. I felt the ground vibrating and I heard a rattling, then the tunnel lit up and a train pulled up. It looked unlike anything I have ever seen before, it looked like a subway train you'd find in any metro nowadays.

    The doors hissed open and the men waved me inside. I stepped inside, glancing both ways and feeling every object and material in sight; they felt... real. But everything else felt surreal. The guy in black pushed me inside, sat me down and ordered "A meteric shiton of beer," from an intercom. Back then I thought it was very unrealistic impression of a vagina: I had a dirty minds and there were a lot of small holes in a big hole. The train belched, squealed and faster than Albert Einstein multiplies while on Adderall, the train blasted off into uncharted territory as dark shadows took turns scanning the inside of the train like searchlights.

    The two guys bickered about the ethics of snort coke of a dead whore's ass and then about should faith healers go to heaven or hell.

    "Satan needs conmen and swindlers," was an argument; another was "The Lord of Lies does should not take children who follow God's will," This argument was countered with: "Not unless the bible instructs preachers to steal from cancer patients."

    We arrived at a train station in DC. I was given a brief briefing about what's what and they booted me out.

    I've had a hard time adjusting. I cried myself to sleep the first few months, kinda like after I fingered Paris Hilton two years ago.

    So why did I tell you all this shit. Well because I'm tired of hearing femenist, Christians, Islams, Athiests or fucking retard bitching about this new-age bullshit on religion and what not; I lived in a time where people where people got stoned for being gay, but I expierienced a time where men and women created amazing breakthroughs in science, where people had a shred of dignity and, a time where if you wanted change you fought for it not bitched on Twitter or some other bullshit.

    Now, as I sit here, drinking vodka and eating oreos, I wish there was no afterlife, no matter how much fun I had fucking around with people on earth. I hope my story will make an impact on it; or else I might just slip American nuclear launch codes into some Russian's handbag

      Loading editor
    • Alright, just got done reading this. First I feel like I should mention the parts that I thought were particularly funny. Namely, the part about Oswald, the protagonist doing whatever he wanted as an immortal, the "Willie Stroker" gag, the Albert Einstein on Adderall joke, the receptionist's dialogue and the Satinca Britannica/Satinca Americana, the notion that those two demons(?) would bicker back and forth about Jesus "fucking up", the bashing of faith healers, that Mr. Willie Stroker has lived long enough to see how much society has changed and that he is so severely disappointed by it, the knock on Twitter bitching, and the bit about nuclear codes being put into a Russian handbag at the end. And as a whole I thought the idea of a guy killing himself, going to the afterlife and getting rudely put through the process is inherently humorous. Finally, I liked how the ending paragraph tied everything together.

      However I did feel that you relied on clichéd jokes at points, and the problem is that you presented them only as gross-out or "shock" punchlines without really setting anything up, and as a result they kind of fell flat in my opinion. Mainly they were the ones about deviant sexual behavior/molestation, rampant drug use/abuse and the excessive profanity. Don't get me wrong, I'm not offended or anything by these things, it's just that I felt like you overused them and they weren't very effective. In my opinion, the amount of profanity present made the writing seem a little overly-hostile and puerile.

      Unfortunately and most importantly there was a sizable number of spelling/wording/punctuation issues I found which bog the story down quite a bit. The syntax itself also feels slightly stunted to me. I can provide you with a list of the errors if you want it, but even if you fixed them, I honestly feel like this pasta needs some more work on the humor/writing fronts before it would be contest-ready.

      Alright, I hope this feedback aids you in some way. If I came across as a prick at any time, please know that it was not my intention and I apologize. And again, if you want the list of errors in the story, please just let me know.

        Loading editor
    • Thanks a lot for the feedback. I'll gladly fix the errors by myself, the pasta isn't that long but I appreciate the offer very much. I think I'll try to salvage the story, sorry I didn't edit this as much as I should but I have a free week and working on dead-end stories wasn't the top of my to-do list. Thanks for taking the time to review.

        Loading editor
    • I died on the 6th September of 1647 and I am talking to you from my grave. It isn't too bad here, there's plenty opportunity for fun. Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't interact with physical objects; do you think Marilyn Monroe fucked herself while asleep. No, she had help. JFK had her killed, by the way. Call me biased but I might have adjusted Oswald’s aim a bit.

      I'm here to tell you all about the afterlife. Being dead is fun; assuming you stay on earth you basically have the power of invincibility and immortality(immorality may a side-effect). I mean when you’re dead and see a hot chick walking down the road or you go to visit your favorite celebrity it’s kinda hard not to molest them. I mean the consequences are minimal and you get to have an assload of fun.

      I grew up with a caring and loving family in a time where condoms were made from animal intestine and porn mags where pieces of stone with dotted circles, belown them were chunks of missing tablet, or they were very hairy cunts. The only problem was my family's income. Being poor in the 15th century was worse than being gangbanged in prison. I would know. You see, my practically non-existant income lead me to jump people in back alleys and take their pouches. I actaully ran a whole crew of gangsters, with our blood-money we bought and ran the biggest chain of brothels in all of New Hampshire. That was until all of the King's horses and all of the King's men broke our Humpy Dumpty's again when they raided our buisness place and chained us up; the law said men can't have some fun without commitment and it also said that men who like other men should be fucking murdered?

      I may in the unintellectual majority of people but I'm not as blind as to put up with people killing others because they like to stick it into something... manly?

      After I got out of the slam I had grey pubic hair longer than my dick. I decided I was too old for the buisiness and I valenteered at a nursing home and donated all my money to smallpox research. Supervising the horror that is old people showering, while living in tiny room with an iron-frame bed would drive anyone to hang themselves like I did.

      I felt a tremendous pressure crush my spine and felt a cold, shuddering presence exit my body as I breathed my last breath. I swayed in midair like a puppet. Suddenly the room started to shake as if an earthquake awoke fathoms beneath the earth, the light from the window dimmed and soon the room was as dark as a cave. I saw cracks open in the walls and shafts of light broke through, neither candle nor sunlight but some weird light with a quality of... hope and joy in them. I can only describe it with emotion because I felt their texture rather than seen it. My vision blurred and I felt like I was shrinking, drifting away from the earth, then drifting towards the light -- becoming englufed by it. I felt comfortably numb, like I was in a dream, everything seemed so distant and muted. Then I blacked out.

      Okay, if any of you wanna off yourself be fucking smart and choose the method that doesn't involve your spine slowly cracking as you sturggle for breath. If you're suicidal, Hemmingway that bitch. Now, onto to the juicy part.

      I awoke in a white room. I felt a throbbing pain in my back. I hoisted myself up, trying to recount what I snorted.The door was as white the walls and the walls were as white as the door, behind which was a dark oak hallway. Two men dressed in two-piece suits walked in and told me:

      "Mr. Willie Stroker, your trial is due in half an hour, please follow."

      They lead me into a waiting room which looked like a mansion: classic pillars, gleaming oak walls and a fucking carpet that cost more than all those brothels. Toffees and cakes and marmalade were laid out on an oak table facing a leather sofa. I hadn't ate anything nice in two decades so I reached out to grab a toffee. As soon as the direction of my hand became apparent a riding crop descended upon it.

      "Uh-uh," said the man with the painful instrument. He pointed towards the back-left corner of the room where a plastic chair and table sat. On the latter was a ham sandwich and an apple. "This," riding crop man said. "Is for you."

      I became less convinced that I was high or dreaming. Could I really hate myself enough to dream this up. I have to admit, though, baphomet makes one mean ham sandwich. My back hurt so much I winced every time I moved, squealed every time I sat and yelled when I got up.

      When the time of the trial came I was escorted into a courtroom you'd see on Judge Judy if you were retarded enough to watch that show. But the usual stands and seats were empty; an old, crippled man in a white robe sat in a puffy sofa in the center, accompanied by a handsome young man in a three-piece charcoal suit. There was a stiff wooden chair for me to sit on, bang in the middle of the Berlin wall of body language between the two. The trial was boring, they told me what I did good and bad, they told me how naughty or nice I was and they assured me that I really was in purgatory and most probably fucked.

      "I should have him if he didn't wipe old people's ass'," the young man said, "I mean, lucifer would crawl out of fucking hell if this tool came with me."

      "You should have him?" Barked the old dude, "I bet you would too, you evil gay fuck." After they snapped at each other for about two more hours they came to a consensus:

      "Fine, then, you old fuck! He can be a midriff, the lucky bastard," Satan said, and, as an afterthought.

      Before I could reply, God hollered for the two guys from the outside and they lead me through a few sets of doors to a place called "Arrivals," marked by a neon sign. It was as white as the place I arrived and resembled a modern subway. The place for trains not collage boys jerking off in your food. There was a reseptionist desk above the tracks where an old lady sat, shuffling through files and chewing bubble gum.

      "I need a cab for earth." Barked the guy dressed in black, the other was dressed in grey. The one in black did most of the talking.

      "Don't tell me Jesus fucked up again. Is this guy's mother Teresa? You know how hard it is to fake surviving a broken spine?"

      "Nah, hon, he's a lucky 'un, he's about as dead as the fucking pope. So give 'im his rulebook and holler for a cab, and hurry, I got to get an autistic kid and schizophrenic murderer through customs."

      The lady handed me a leather-bound book about the size of 120 Days of Sodom. I looked at her questioningly and she said,

      "Half of that is the bible, quarter's the Satinca Britannica, love, the other quarter's the actual rules. That'd be the last part, by the way."

      "Thanks," I murmured. I wondered where's the Satinca Americana but I was too shocked to speak. I felt the ground vibrating and I heard a rattling, then the tunnel lit up and a train pulled up. It looked unlike anything I have ever seen back then; it looked like a subway train you'd find in any metro nowadays.

      The doors hissed open and the men waved me inside. I lugged myself in, glancing both ways and feeling every object sight. They felt real even. Everything else felt dreamy. The guy in black pushed me inside, sat me down, and ordered "A meteric shiton of beer" from an intercom. The train belched, and blasted off faster than Albert Einstein multiplies on Adderall. The blackness was occaisonly intertwined with some fleeting grey shapes, like clouds on a night sky. The train was desolate, it felt creepy as fuck with the infrequent flashes of grey across the compartment.

      Grey and Black bickered about the ethics of castarting rapists and then about should faith healers go to heaven or hell.

      "The Lord of Lies needs con-men and swindlers," was an argument and it was retorted with "Satan should not take children who follow God's will," which was countered by "Not unless the bible instructs preachers to steal from cancer patients."

      We arrived at a train station in Maine. I was given a briefing about what's what and they booted me out.

      So why did I tell you all this shit? Well because I'm tired of hearing feminists, Christians, Muslims, atheists and fucking retards bitching about this new-age bullshit on religion and what not; I lived in a time where people where people got stoned for being gay, but I experienced a time where men and women created amazing breakthroughs in science, a time where if you wanted change you fought for it, not bitched on Twitter.

      As I sit here, drinking vodka and eating gummy bears, I wish there was no afterlife. I had fun but it wasn't worth all this bullshit; that's why I hope my story will make an impact. Or else I might just slip American nuclear launch codes into some Russian's handbag.

        Loading editor
    • Okay, read the second draft. Here are some errors/questionable things I found first. Corrections and suggestions in parentheses:


      "I died on the 6th September of 1647". Think you need to re-arrange this sentence.

      "do you think Marilyn Monroe fucked herself while asleep." Rhetorical questions still should end in question marks.

      "assuming you stay on earth". Capitalize "earth" here as you are referring to the proper planet.

      "immortality(put a space here.)(immorality may a side-effect)."

      "porn mags where(were) pieces of stone"

      "belown(below) them were chunks"

      "lead(led) me to jump"

      "I actaully(actually) ran"

      "That was until all of the King's horses and all of the King's men broke our Humpy(Humpty) Dumpty's(Dumptys/Dumpties) again when they raided our buisness(business) place and chained us up;(I'd suggest splitting this sentence in two here) the law said men can't have some fun without commitment and("but" here is better) it also said that men who like other men should be fucking murdered?"

      "I may (be) in the unintellectual majority of people but I'm not as(so) blind as to put up with people killing others"

      "and I valenteered(volunteered)"

      "living in (a) tiny room"

      "I felt their texture rather than seen it". This doesn't really sound right.

      "drifting away from the earth". If you're referring to the planet, capitalize. If you're referring to dirt, then leave this be.

      "snorted.(space)The"

      "The door was as white (as) the walls and the walls were as white as the door"

      "I felt comfortably numb". Oh no, now you've got me thinking of Jay's awful tale...

      "They lead(led) me into a waiting room"

      "Could I really hate myself enough to dream this up." Rhetorical questions still should end in question marks.

      "baphomet(Baphomet) makes one mean ham sandwich"

      "bang in the middle of the Berlin wall of body language between the two". This just sounds awkward and I can't really get the meaning of it.

      "purgatory(Purgatory)"

      "I should have him if he didn't wipe old people's ass'(asses)," the young man said,(.) "I mean, lucifer(Lucifer) would crawl out of fucking hell(Hell) if this tool came with me."

      ""You should have him?" Barked(barked) the old dude"

      "they lead(led) me"

      "It was as white as the place I arrived (at) and resembled a modern subway"

      "The place for trains(,) not collage(college) boys jerking off in your food". I feel like you could expand on this joke a bit, perhaps giving a reason why a Subway employee would cum in someone's food.

      "reseptionist(receptionist) desk"

      ""I need a cab for earth(Earth).(,)" Barked(barked) the guy dressed in black"

      "Half of that is the bible(Bible)"

      "It looked unlike anything I have(had) ever seen back then"

      "and feeling every object sight". Unsure what you mean here.

      "and ordered "A(a) meteric shiton of beer""

      "and blasted off faster than Albert Einstein multiplies("multiplying" sounds better to me here) on Adderall."

      "occaisonly(occasionally)"

      "Grey and Black bickered about the ethics of castarting(castrating) rapists and then about should(replace "should" with "if" here) faith healers (should) go to heaven(Heaven) or hell(Hell)."

      "The Lord of Lies needs con-men and swindlers," was an argument and it was retorted with "Satan should not take children who follow God's will," which was countered by "Not unless the bible(Bible) instructs preachers to steal from cancer patients." Really feel like you should break this up into separate sentences, perhaps after each point is made.

      "I lived in a time where people where people(remove this extra "where people")"

      "but I (also) experienced a time where men and women created amazing breakthroughs"


      Also:


      "I had grey pubic hair longer than my dick". I feel like you should expand on this joke as well.

      "was worse than being gangbanged in prison". This one too.


      So overall I felt like this new draft is a definite improvement. I liked how you gave some more backstory to the protagonist and cut back on some of that unnecessary profanity. You cleaned up the plot and language slightly which is also good. Reading this over again however I think you jump too quickly from the protag arriving in Maine to him being completely fed up with humanity. You give one short paragraph regarding his view on modern society, which is okay, but I think it would help to add some more about him living as an undead(?) on Earth. After spending so much time describing his trip in the subway, it would be a good idea to reward the reader with some more humorous antics on Earth. Also, I'm now a bit confused about why he gets transported to Purgatory after he dies, gets sentenced, and then just returns to Earth as an immortal. Is that his punishment, or is living on Earth forever the real Purgatory and he just got sentenced in Heaven?

      Finally I would recommend going through this story again and reading out loud to yourself, seeing if the sentences sound natural to you as a reader. And if you find any spot at all that you think could be better visualized by adding some extra interesting description, don't hesitate to do so.

      Well, those are my thoughts for now. Good luck here.

        Loading editor
    • A FANDOM user
        Loading editor
Give Kudos to this message
You've given this message Kudos!
See who gave Kudos to this message
Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.