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Need some well-read Vonnegut fans
For a recent school assignment, I supposed to pick a "mentor author" (aka my favorite author) and write a piece to emulate that writer's style (I'll give you three guesses as to who I picked, and the first two don't count). So I wrote this short story, thinking I'd done a fairly good job, but my classmates disagreed, saying everything from I had used the wrong tense to my sentences were too long for Vonnegut to the dialogue wasn't enough like Vonnegut's style. So I came back home and fixed it up today to my liking, but I'm worried, since I so terribly misjudged my ability the first time. Where to turn in such a situation? If your answer was "An online forums for people who play computer games," then you must hear the voices, too.
Anyway, the following story's style is based mostly on Vonnegut's short story entitled "A Long Walk to Forever," which I have been told is very atypical of Vonngut and one of his most hated stories to boot. Alas. Obviously if you've read this story, you may be better able to judge my approximation of his style. Thanks in advance to everyone who got this far, let alone actually those who actually go on to read the story.
Green Grass, Blue Skies
The two men had agreed to meet on Thursday, because Jacob played shuffleboard and bridge on Wednesdays and on Friday Matthias's wife would be dead forty years. So it goes.
It was a Thursday in April, and so they were both expecting rain. They were expecting rain because it was April, not because it was Thursday. Thursday the 15th, a date of no particular significance to either of them. April 15th was the birthday of the new owner of Keller's Drugstore in New Haven, Connecticut. His name was not Keller. It was Frank Davidson. So it goes.
Jacob Wendell and Matthias Hillstead had grown up on a road leading to New Haven. Every day as children they had walked together to Keller's Drugstore. Every day they had sat down on the then-new leather stools. Every day Jacob had ordered them chocolate milkshakes, and everyday Matthias had asked him not to. Then they would drink their milkshakes. When they were done they would walk back to their homes. Jacob had to walk an extra half-mile to get back to his house. Matthias would accompany him and then return to his house.
The two men had agreed to meet on this potentially rainy Thursday in April to talk and to reminisce and to see where their lives had taken them. They used to talk about this all the time. They used to talk about how one day, after years had passed, they would meet and talk and reminisce and see where their lives had taken them. This was very clear to them, then. The grass was green. The sky was blue. They would meet and talk and reminisce and see where their lives had taken them.
Jacob walked in to find Matthias already slouched at a booth. He decided to walk up wordlessly and sit. He wanted to see if Matthias would notice him. Matthias did. Matthias nearly threw himself against the back of the booth. Matthias was trying to look casual. He was wearing rumpled jeans and a t-shirt with holes in it. Jacob wore fashionable khaki pants and a fashionable men's shirt both designed by fashionable companies. The outfit alone had cost him many hundreds of dollars.
Jacob sat. They stared.
They stared for quite some time, each sizing up the other. There was a twinkling smile in each eye; four twinkling smiles altogether. As though a pandemic of smiles swept the table they each pulled at their noses and grinned. This was a nervous habit each of them had adopted over the years. They each laughed then, each banging the table as guffaws escaped their throats. Jacob's was clean-shaven and Matthias's was not.
"You've changed," said Matthias.
"You've changed," said Jacob.
"We have indeed," said Matthias.
"I'll buy milkshakes," said Jacob.
"I'll help," said Matthias. But Jacob was already standing to order. Matthias watched him.
Jacob returned. Matthias asked him how much the milkshakes had cost.
"Nickels," said Jacob. "Wooden ones," he said.
"I want to pay for mine," said Matthias.
"Don't worry," said Jacob.
"I'm not destitute, you know. I could have paid for mine. Don't you go thinking that because I've got holes in my shirt, I couldn't have paid." In point of fact, Matthias could not have paid. The entire Hillstead Estate at the moment consisted of three crumpled one-dollar bills, two dull nickels and three shiny pennies, exactly six cents short of one milkshake. But the subject dropped from the table like a white stone in the red sea, which were the subjects of the terrible joke Jacob was telling.
"It gets wet!" cried Jacob, splattering milkshake tears over the Formica table surface as he pounded his fist.
"I remember that one," said Matthias. He took a sip. He began to say, "These aren't as good as they used to be," but Jacob was already talking again.
"Well old friend, how the hell have you been?"
Matthias paused here, trying to think of three or four words that would sum up fifty some years. Jacob beamed at him with sparkling eyes. Matthias shifted uncomfortably.
When he finally did speak, he knew he had not found the right words. "I've been fortunate."
"Well that's what I like to hear, Matthias old friend," said Jacob.
"I guess I'm 'old friend,' now," said Matthias. "I used to be just 'friend,'" he said.
"Well, now you're old," said Jacob. His eyes were twinkling.
"That was blunt."
"Obviously."
"The grass is green," said Matthias. He was grinning.
"The sky is blue," said Jacob. They sipped their milkshakes and were content.
"So what business are you in now?" said Matthias, after an interval.
"Steel," said Jacob.
"You're being vague," said Matthias.
"You're being nosy," said Jacob.
"Come now, old friend, why keep secrets?"
Jacob stared at him hard, fiddling with his fingers. "I think the reason you ask is because you see that my clothes are expensive, and that yours are not expensive, and that I'm clean-shaven, and you're not clean-shaven, and that I look comparatively young, and you old, when really, none of this matters at all," Jacob said, with only a brief sip-pause between "you're" and "not." Both men stared at each other over their half-filled plastic milkshake cups again, though actually Matthias had drank a little more and was down to around two-fifths.
"What was your wife's name?" said Jacob.
"Clara," said Matthias.
"Now that is a beautiful name," said Jacob.
"I suppose," said Matthias.
"You guys have any kids?" said Jacob.
"One," said Matthias. "He lives in Seattle now," he said.
"Oh, I see," said Jacob. "That's a really nice place, Seattle," he said.
"You ever marry?" said Matthias.
"I never really wanted to," said Jacob.
"Too busy, I'm sure," said Matthias.
"Um," said Jacob. Matthias was slurping at the remnants of his milkshake now.
"Are you…" Jacob paused to polish off his own milkshake "…are you happy, Matthias, old friend?"
Two sets of eyes set about the room, absorbing the details they remembered and the details they'd missed. They noted also the details that had changed, but those were rather unimportant.
When the eyes met again, the two sets, the four twinkling smiles had returned.
"I am happy," said Matthias."
"Me too," said Jacob.
A momentary pause, while each contemplated something.
"You've changed," said Matthias.
"You've changed," said Jacob.
"The grass is green," said Matthias.
"The sky is blue," said Jacob.
And it was, and it was. The sun beamed outside, and there were no rain clouds for miles.
Comments? Suggestions? Anything? Hello?
For a recent school assignment, I supposed to pick a "mentor author" (aka my favorite author) and write a piece to emulate that writer's style (I'll give you three guesses as to who I picked, and the first two don't count). So I wrote this short story, thinking I'd done a fairly good job, but my classmates disagreed, saying everything from I had used the wrong tense to my sentences were too long for Vonnegut to the dialogue wasn't enough like Vonnegut's style. So I came back home and fixed it up today to my liking, but I'm worried, since I so terribly misjudged my ability the first time. Where to turn in such a situation? If your answer was "An online forums for people who play computer games," then you must hear the voices, too.
Anyway, the following story's style is based mostly on Vonnegut's short story entitled "A Long Walk to Forever," which I have been told is very atypical of Vonngut and one of his most hated stories to boot. Alas. Obviously if you've read this story, you may be better able to judge my approximation of his style. Thanks in advance to everyone who got this far, let alone actually those who actually go on to read the story.
Green Grass, Blue Skies
The two men had agreed to meet on Thursday, because Jacob played shuffleboard and bridge on Wednesdays and on Friday Matthias's wife would be dead forty years. So it goes.
It was a Thursday in April, and so they were both expecting rain. They were expecting rain because it was April, not because it was Thursday. Thursday the 15th, a date of no particular significance to either of them. April 15th was the birthday of the new owner of Keller's Drugstore in New Haven, Connecticut. His name was not Keller. It was Frank Davidson. So it goes.
Jacob Wendell and Matthias Hillstead had grown up on a road leading to New Haven. Every day as children they had walked together to Keller's Drugstore. Every day they had sat down on the then-new leather stools. Every day Jacob had ordered them chocolate milkshakes, and everyday Matthias had asked him not to. Then they would drink their milkshakes. When they were done they would walk back to their homes. Jacob had to walk an extra half-mile to get back to his house. Matthias would accompany him and then return to his house.
The two men had agreed to meet on this potentially rainy Thursday in April to talk and to reminisce and to see where their lives had taken them. They used to talk about this all the time. They used to talk about how one day, after years had passed, they would meet and talk and reminisce and see where their lives had taken them. This was very clear to them, then. The grass was green. The sky was blue. They would meet and talk and reminisce and see where their lives had taken them.
Jacob walked in to find Matthias already slouched at a booth. He decided to walk up wordlessly and sit. He wanted to see if Matthias would notice him. Matthias did. Matthias nearly threw himself against the back of the booth. Matthias was trying to look casual. He was wearing rumpled jeans and a t-shirt with holes in it. Jacob wore fashionable khaki pants and a fashionable men's shirt both designed by fashionable companies. The outfit alone had cost him many hundreds of dollars.
Jacob sat. They stared.
They stared for quite some time, each sizing up the other. There was a twinkling smile in each eye; four twinkling smiles altogether. As though a pandemic of smiles swept the table they each pulled at their noses and grinned. This was a nervous habit each of them had adopted over the years. They each laughed then, each banging the table as guffaws escaped their throats. Jacob's was clean-shaven and Matthias's was not.
"You've changed," said Matthias.
"You've changed," said Jacob.
"We have indeed," said Matthias.
"I'll buy milkshakes," said Jacob.
"I'll help," said Matthias. But Jacob was already standing to order. Matthias watched him.
Jacob returned. Matthias asked him how much the milkshakes had cost.
"Nickels," said Jacob. "Wooden ones," he said.
"I want to pay for mine," said Matthias.
"Don't worry," said Jacob.
"I'm not destitute, you know. I could have paid for mine. Don't you go thinking that because I've got holes in my shirt, I couldn't have paid." In point of fact, Matthias could not have paid. The entire Hillstead Estate at the moment consisted of three crumpled one-dollar bills, two dull nickels and three shiny pennies, exactly six cents short of one milkshake. But the subject dropped from the table like a white stone in the red sea, which were the subjects of the terrible joke Jacob was telling.
"It gets wet!" cried Jacob, splattering milkshake tears over the Formica table surface as he pounded his fist.
"I remember that one," said Matthias. He took a sip. He began to say, "These aren't as good as they used to be," but Jacob was already talking again.
"Well old friend, how the hell have you been?"
Matthias paused here, trying to think of three or four words that would sum up fifty some years. Jacob beamed at him with sparkling eyes. Matthias shifted uncomfortably.
When he finally did speak, he knew he had not found the right words. "I've been fortunate."
"Well that's what I like to hear, Matthias old friend," said Jacob.
"I guess I'm 'old friend,' now," said Matthias. "I used to be just 'friend,'" he said.
"Well, now you're old," said Jacob. His eyes were twinkling.
"That was blunt."
"Obviously."
"The grass is green," said Matthias. He was grinning.
"The sky is blue," said Jacob. They sipped their milkshakes and were content.
"So what business are you in now?" said Matthias, after an interval.
"Steel," said Jacob.
"You're being vague," said Matthias.
"You're being nosy," said Jacob.
"Come now, old friend, why keep secrets?"
Jacob stared at him hard, fiddling with his fingers. "I think the reason you ask is because you see that my clothes are expensive, and that yours are not expensive, and that I'm clean-shaven, and you're not clean-shaven, and that I look comparatively young, and you old, when really, none of this matters at all," Jacob said, with only a brief sip-pause between "you're" and "not." Both men stared at each other over their half-filled plastic milkshake cups again, though actually Matthias had drank a little more and was down to around two-fifths.
"What was your wife's name?" said Jacob.
"Clara," said Matthias.
"Now that is a beautiful name," said Jacob.
"I suppose," said Matthias.
"You guys have any kids?" said Jacob.
"One," said Matthias. "He lives in Seattle now," he said.
"Oh, I see," said Jacob. "That's a really nice place, Seattle," he said.
"You ever marry?" said Matthias.
"I never really wanted to," said Jacob.
"Too busy, I'm sure," said Matthias.
"Um," said Jacob. Matthias was slurping at the remnants of his milkshake now.
"Are you…" Jacob paused to polish off his own milkshake "…are you happy, Matthias, old friend?"
Two sets of eyes set about the room, absorbing the details they remembered and the details they'd missed. They noted also the details that had changed, but those were rather unimportant.
When the eyes met again, the two sets, the four twinkling smiles had returned.
"I am happy," said Matthias."
"Me too," said Jacob.
A momentary pause, while each contemplated something.
"You've changed," said Matthias.
"You've changed," said Jacob.
"The grass is green," said Matthias.
"The sky is blue," said Jacob.
And it was, and it was. The sun beamed outside, and there were no rain clouds for miles.
Comments? Suggestions? Anything? Hello?