Tuesday

PLOTZ: STRONGLY PLOTTED 9 SENTENCE SHORT STORIES

From now on, each of my new blogs will be a strongly plotted 9 sentence short story. If you like and get the hang of the format, you may submit your own PLOTZ; and if I like it I will publish it right here on this blog. No payment, unless a film co. gets interested. Then we'll talk.

In PLOTZ stories, there will be no absurdly long run on sentences. The longest will be a two clause compound sentence. For example, "He loved baseball, and he hated golf" is okay - 2 clauses that can each serve as a separate sentence. But "He loved baseball, and he hated golf, and he was indifferent to bocce" is not okay. Though it's 3 clauses that can each serve as a separate sentence, and it's grammatically correct, and in many ways is a fine sentence, it's not acceptable in this format which only allows for 9 sentences. It's a cheat, a blatant attempt to stretch the rules. In short, 2 clauses good, 3 clauses bad. So the first story ever in this series is....

PLOTZ #1:

DRAPKIN'S SCRUB

Since her husband was at an orthopedist's convention in San Diego, she was spending Lobster Night stag at the table with the Crabbes, the Brighams, the Wilcoxes, the Harms, and the Drapkins. Sy Drapkin hadn't shaved in a week or so; and unlike the kids, whose dark stubble sometimes seemed sexy, Sy just looked like an aging, unkempt man. That the only Jew in the club could feel so comfortable in flouting the 88 year traditions of Pine Brook Preserve enraged her, nay, repulsed her, nay, he was repulsive to her. When they exchanged peremptory air kisses at the end of the evening, though she held him at arm's length, he managed to press his cheek to hers, his scruff startling her, scraping her.

When she lay in bed that night, the feeling was alive on her cheek, wiry, prickly, an irritatant. She fell asleep, but woke up a half hour later, sweating and restless. Not a soul was in the house, and she felt no discomfort walking up to the attic in her nightgown and fishing out the vibrator Tim had brought home on Valentine's Day, 1987, from The Sharper Image. Using it for the first time ever, and surprisingly without embarrassment or shame, she quite unexpectedly felt an urgent and intensifying rush of desire till her whole pubic area felt seized by what seemed like a cramp that spasmed and spasmed before it finally eased, leaving her drunk with a delicious fatigue. So this is what they call an orgasm, she mused, as she drifted off to sleep, thinking next time she saw Sy at one of those dinners at the club, she would grab him and dance with him cheek to cheek.



2 Comments:

At 11:24 PM, Blogger EM_C said...

The Great West

Interpretation of the great western films had become a popular area of study for what must have been all of society. The young men sat, studying, for a debilitating long period of time.

“Eureka, this is a story of what it is to be man; to live unhindered and burgeon into the world, creating something truly spectacular.”

“Oh no,” said the crone. “You young ones are too philosophical if you think that. It is much clearer how this film shows certain ones whom are not changing with the times, and we all know what happens to those who do not get with the times. There will be no talks of Johnny Appleseed.”

The young men went on, toiling under the crone’s duress. There would be no recapitulation.

 
At 4:42 AM, Blogger Eric Weber said...

Good job, EM_C, keep 'em coming. EW

 

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