Gloves Off: Round XXI
The high cost of gas
Today we’ll take a deeper dive into All Things Holy, a short story by Krissy Eliot
To read the story as originally published, please click here. Do it.
All Things Holy
Ever lose yourself in the magic of a craft? It’s always been a calling for me, farting that is. Especially loudly. Loud farting. On or around other people. It’s a favorite activity of mine, second only to inserting the word “fart” in place of the word “heart” in famous songs and sayings.
My achy breaky fart. Kickstart my fart. Two of farts. (I need you. I need you.)
I can even throw my farts. But I’m getting ahead of myself, here.
My comments: You gotta know I love this story, but let’s tease it out more.
My main reason is the song Dance: 10, Looks: 3 from A Chorus Line. In trial runs the song was called Tits and Ass and it got no laughs. The audience just sat there and watched. The song title, listed in the program, had given away the joke. Once the composer, Marvin Hamlisch, saw that, he had the programs reprinted with the song’s current title. After that the number stopped the show.
So while the earlier draft of this story is great, consider burying the joke. Allow the discovery process to demonstrate it before you state it. I’ve done a little cut-and-paste, here. My additions are in bold. It’s not perfect, but it’s just to give you an idea of what I had in mind.
Of course, these two favorite gas-times of mine irritate everyone around me to no end. By middle school, I’d been kicked out of friend’s
houses,birthday parties, and Nordstrom Rack. And listen, I deserved it too. From the bottom of my broken fart, I’m a totally contemptible douche lord with virtually no grasp of immediate consequence. I love spoiling precious moments with a well-timed toot and I care little for the comfort of others. Especially my little brother, who, by lack of luck in birth, has become a prime target for my blasts. Growing up, there was nothing more thrilling than to hear his screams as I pinned down his arms, hiked up my dress, and blew ass right into his stupid face.
My comments: I wanted you to step on “friend’s birthday parties” because the open flame is a set-up that can be paid off later. And to avoid a series of three. Plus, you get better absurd contrast between the vague “birthday party” and the specific Nordstrom Rack.