I'm trying to get back into writing so I can publish myself, In doing so I've begun doing 30 minute one-offs just to get the creative juices flowing for my next project. All it is is I take a Queue from someone, and do a creative writing in thirty minutes. This is my first which I got from my tumblr, criticism is encouraged.

By the way, the queue is "Small town Robbery"

The black Sedan pulled into the parking lot., it was raining, in the middle of the night, a good night to do wrong.

“You ready?”

“Hell yea brah.”

The two young white males unbuckled their seat belts, and each lit a cigar rolling down the tinted windows slightly. The faint smell of white grapes filled the car, mixed with the smell of burning tobacco. They game themselves a moment to think, and reflect on what was about to happen. The passenger spoke first.

“We ain’t gonna be hurting anyone huh? I mean sure we need the money, but ain’t right ta hurt a man.”

“Well, reckon as long has they don’t give any shit, isn’t a reason to hurt anyone. If they try and pull something though, I don’t have a problem popping one of those terrorist sand monkeys ‘tween the eyes.”

The driver pulled a Glock from the waist band of his jeans, pulling back the action to confirm the presence of a bullet before releasing and ejecting the clip, again confirming the presence of red neck America’s favorite favorite commodity.

“What the hell man, why bring a gun, something goes wrong and that’s gonna give us a right fine charge, you know that, you’re old man’s a cop for gods sake.”

“Sure he is, sure enough, it’d give us a higher charge, but nothing is gonna go wrong, don’t think about backing out on me neither. You’re the one got that junior girl knocked up and needs the money, hell I’m here to help you, and if I manage to get a little bit of money in the process then so be it. Remember you’re the one who decided that the pill was enough and wanted to go bare-back. Allergic to latex my ass.”

The cigars were half gone now, a final drag to prepare. This could be the beginning of a life of crime, or just a one time thing, who really knew. A convenience store only had what, maybe a few thousand dollars on hand? This town was small anyway. They had traveled most of the night to get here, ‘borrowed’ a car half way and now they were about to rob an Arabic-run store. The place was filled with the local football team’s merchandise, the same team the two of them had played for just a year ago and taken to the state championship. Back when life looked promising, before they, well before the passenger had decided to go and start fucking around. Now he might as well be tied down at home, no collage ball for him. He’d probably have a shotgun wedding too, knowing the girls father.

The pulled up their hoods and pulled down their masks, each a characterization of fifty cent. The two boys slid on leather gloves, no sign of skin color. Perfect, There were no patrons left in the store. The threw out the cigars, and opened the doors, leaving the keys within for a quick escape. The hadn’t gotten out yet, doors wide open and the two nodded to each other. The driver made his voice deeper and spoke with a urban accent now.

“Aight ma nigg lets roll.”

They jumped out of the car and ran into the store. The driver pulling up the gun as soon as they entered.

“OPEN DAT FUCKIN’ REGISTA BITCH AND GIMMIR ALL DAT BREAD!”

Calmly the clerk looked at the duo, and pulled a shotgun from just below the counter, blasting the gun-toting leader. He turned then to the passenger frozen as he friend fell to the ground.

“You fucking pricks think I am stupid? Middle of the night, raining and some guys sit in the parking lot for ten minutes before even opening the doors? Fuck that, No one up to good does that at a convenience store. This is my life you think I’m just handing it over? No this is America, where I have the right to defend myself and my family. You little fuckers are not taking what is mine away from me.”

The passenger was still paralyzed, his friend bleeding onto the floor, dead. Then he made the stupidest mistake of his life. He put his hand by his pocket, and the clerk shot again. The pellets tore through his flesh. He had lead a good life, and had made only two mistakes. One fuck up can ruin your life, two can end it. It was raining, a good night to do right.




Also, feel free to give me a queue.

I like the story and I love the fact that you got it out in 30 minutes. You left a lot of mystery with the two robbers as I am now wondering just what sort of screw-ups brought these two men to a convenient store in their own home town with intentions of robbing it. I also liked the racial flavoring that was thrown in on top of it all.

The ending was superb, too. I loved that the cashier knew exactly what was going on and was prepared (and ruthless). The fact that he was screaming about this being America and that he would not let what is his be taken from him really gave it some poetic justice considering it was coming from a man of Arab descent and it was directed at two, good ol' white boys.

Now I'm not sure if it was intentional or not but the one characters "urban accent" was very off. I have a lot of friends who speak like that and grew up in an area where it was common (and even grew up speaking that way myself) so I feel safe in saying that a black person robbing a cashier would not call the money 'bread' in fear of the cashier not understanding him and thus delaying his robbery. However, this makes sense if it was intentional since the line was coming from a white person who does not normally speak like that.

Now, for the part that I hate; criticism.

First thing that popped in to my head was when you described the cigars as already being half gone when they had shared what could have only been a minute or two worth of dialogue, seemed a little off to me. It takes quite a while for a cigar to burn depending on the type and since you did not mention what sort of cigar it was (aside from the flavor), my mind immediately went to one of those big stogies that people remember their grandfather's smoking.

You didn't need to put quotes around the word borrowed. I understand this was done to emphasize that they stole the car but the reader will come to this realization on their own as you mentioned that they did not get the car until they were already halfway to their destination and because they are already preparing to rob a store.

I understand that you wrote this in 30 minutes but I have to ask whether or not you bothered to edit it. There are a lot of spelling (such as you're instead of your) and grammar mistakes that made it difficult to read. I could see these mistakes being made as spelling and grammar is not something that you should be focused on during a 30 minute exercise but you really should edit it before posting it as such things will greatly affect how a person reads it and how easy it is to get lost in the story.

As for another queue: A pacifist is pushed in to a brawl. Good luck. :)

Thank you for the critique, and yeah the over done accent was meant to be.... over the top, so it was intentional. Glad you liked it. Also, the cigars were more like Cigarillos, I had a distinct type in mind, but that was my error for not specifying. It was the White owl White grapes. ANYWAY I also took time to Edit at the end of my time limit this time. On your advice, and probably something I will be doing in the future. Because you were correct in assuming that I did no editing.

Again thank you for the critique, and the compliments. Here is your drabble good sir.

Pacifist in a Brawl

Everything had been quiet for a few days; the marines were finally being withdrawn. Mission accomplished. Though they had been here for about a year, this particular encampment of Marine had never seen any conflict. The majority of those stationed here were medics, or analysts. They were fine with not seeing the war. It was something real sure enough; but knowing it was there, and seeing it in your back yard are two entirely different things. The had arrived in Pakistan about a year ago; quelling a small rebellion. It was payback really. The Marines and the US government as a whole owed Pakistan a favor after the 'War on Terror' campaign a few years back. Here we find Sargent Briggs, one of the younger Marines in the encampment. He had enlisted to help his country; but he was glad to have gotten the fairly cushy job of an analyst. He still had never seen combat. During the two months in hell, other wise known as Marine basic, he had just managed to skid into the passing class. Why would someone like him even be interested in a military career? Truth be told he needed money; he had been laid off from his job at a tractor factory, price cuts and the what not, and his wife was due any day. A little girl; he was going to be a father. With no job however, how would he support the two of them? With the spiraling economy, he had to do something quickly. The Marines took him in with open arms.

The tents were being deconstructed, packed away. Briggs could hardly wait to see his wife, and now year old little girl. Pictures and care packages were good, but it isn't the same. The wind blew, kicking up loose dust on the ground. Briggs looked to the sky and smiled.

“I survived, girls. Daddy's coming home.” His hand on his brow blocking the sun he continued to look upward. No matter where you were the sky was always blue. These people, were no different than he, or the other marines. They were just people, citizens of earth. No one had to die in war zones. Everyone was a living, breathing person, with wants, dreams, family, a parent at the least. Why are people, as creatures so hostile? There’s plenty to go around.

Oh well, me and mine are happy. Me and mine are safe.

“TANGO! TANGO!”

There went Briggs and his day dream. One minute you're already half way home, and the next apparently your perimeter is breach and there’s a few squads of men that want you dead. In a panic Briggs scrambled to the vehicles, quickly taking cover. He ducked his head between his knees and covered his head as the other marines took up arms, even with their basic training being their only backing. The gunshots felt like the echoed for miles. Why were they here? The Marines were leaving. Mission accomplished right? Minimal casualties. We were trying to do right weren’t we?

Men started falling. Both sides corpses fell, Briggs didn't want to be the next one. He closed his eyes.

Don't worry girls... Daddy's coming home.

“BRIGGS YOU SORRY EXCUSE OF A MARINE, YOU BETTER BE DOING SOMEKIND OF FUCKED UP TEBOWING CAUSE YOU JUST BLASTED SEVEN TANGOS WITH ONE SHOT OR SO HELP ME I WILL WALK IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS WARZONE AND SHOVE MY COMBAT BOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU WILL FLOSS WITH MY BOOT STRINGS FOR A MONTH, GET UP AND SUPRESS SARGENT.”

Again, jerked out from some manner of happy place, and put back here on this sand, stone, and blood reality. A brother in arms fell to the ground beside him, Briggs reached the the man as blood poured from his chest.

“Y...you're gonna be alright uhhh...Jones...” Briggs said as he glanced at the man's tags.

“Heh... “Jones sputtered blood from his mouth. “We was going home today Briggs.... Didn't think I'd be going to the ya know.. big home. Make it back Briggs.”

Jones took his last breath right there. Still clutching his M4A1. Briggs looked on in horror. He just watched a man die, and barely knew his name, but the man knew his. Were people so insignificant that they barely knew one another?

Don't worry girls daddy is coming home.

The carbine in hand he crouched behind the jeep, Then rose to his feet, eying down the gun's rail.

He pulled the trigger.

“SUPPRESSING FIIIRE!”

Daddy's coming home.

Absolutely wonderful! I loved the resolve in the end. It really showed that the thought of losing what is precious can make a person do something completely outside of their belief system.

Now, this may be because I already knew so it might be a good idea to get someone else's perspective on it but I think it was awesome how you were able to get across the fact that Briggs was a pacifist without ever actually saying it. I find that reading my work out loud in a clear voice helps me catch these sort of typos that spellcheckers don't catch.

I did notice a couple of spelling and grammar mistakes but those can be chalked up to typos more than anything else as from looking at them it is obvious that a spellchecker would not catch them and so I will not even bother to point them out. One thing I would like to point out, though is that the term concerning "hell training" is usually used for the SEALS which would not be posted in the desert and that it refers to only the last week of intense training which is referred to as Hell Week.

Once again, it was excellent! Wonderful potential. You should try a few more of these 30 minute exercises and you will probably have a damn fine collection of short stories and could probably even expand a few in to longer short stories. I'd love to see some more of your work posted up here and will be sure to encourage others to come and take a gander.

((I honestly figured you meant cigarillos in your previous story because of your description as them being white grape in flavor but readers who know nothing of cigars may not know this. A quick description as them being thin and long would normally do if you do not like the idea of throwing a name brand in to your writing.)