The Seventh Entry: Paul "Prolific" Papadeas Offers Up an Earthy "Lady of the Lake"
This is not Paul Papadeas. This is a drawing of a character Paul played in a little movie called "Incident at Sicuani". This isn't even a likeness. I drew this in a storyboard before I'd even cast Paul. "The Native" was his character name in the "script". I post this up because I have no photos of Paul, so this is going to have to do. Paul's entry into this month's Smackdown has some interesting backstory: When the progenitor of this blog, Nathan Hines, first received this story, it was so audacious and in-your-face he thought for sure that "The Tear in the Canonazo" author, and resident harrasshole, Heath Michaels, had written it and stamped Paul's name on it for a laff (not a 'laugh' mind you, but a 'laff'. Huge difference.) Not so. Paul's the true author. So, with this, the seventh (and final?) entry in the March edition of Literary Smackdown, Paul Papadeas sets his boot into the ring. Seven entries! Records are being shattered everyday. Ready, set, JUDGE!
By Paul Papadeas
Goddamn bitch. I remember this place. We used to come here to fuck. It was so damn humid and the gnats would just eat my eyeballs like they were a pig pickin’ cake. At times I’d be going at her with my stinging eyes closed.
So peaceful out here though – nobody would bother us that’s for sure – she’d scream bloody murder and the only thing that you’d hear in return was a bullfrog’s rancid belch. One time I slipped onto a colony of ants. Damn critters stung my cock and turned it into a swollen water balloon.
She laughed at me. She always laughed at me. But never with me. That seems to be a recurring theme of my life.
Wow. It’s in pretty good shape. But the water still looks like somebody dumped a truckload of Jack Daniels in there. She wouldn’t mind though. She would wash off by taking a swim. Man, that turned me on more than the bangin’. I liked the way she moved the current against here skin. She was white as a ghost and it sure made a nice contrast.
Yeah, but it’s a perfect place for casting one off too. Bet you there’s some nice catch in there. Gotta try it sometime soon – whenever I can break free from my so-called busy schedule.
She never let me eat any of the fish either. Always said it was because there were too many bones, but I know she was really one of them bleeding heart types. Always in love with the cold blooded.
Damn. If I only had a red and white sandwich and a portable radio about now. Would love to know the score. I think its Sunday. There’s always a game.
Never a soul out here but me and the trees. Ever. I feel like I’m trapped in the rib cage of a giant. They say that this little piece of freedom still belongs to the Potter’s. But I don’t see their house in the clearing. Maybe they tore it down or sold it off to the city. Who really gives a shit?
This place is surely forgotten now. Maybe I’ll just lay out here for tonight. Just for old time’s sake.
posted by Miller Sturtevant | 9:03 AM
10 Comments:
Papamegalopolis,
If for no other reason, I like this story because of the sentence "If I only had a red and white sandwich and a portable radio about now." I have absolutely no idea what a red and white sandwich is, but I bet it's good and it sure makes for a great sentence.
Seriously, look at that sentence again folks:
"If I only had a red and white sandwich and a portable radio about now."
That has catch phrase potential. Particularly amongst the elderly.
Now then, the sex stuff was fun but I couldn't tell if he was indeed raping her or if she was a willing participant. He says they used to go there to bone, but then he says she always screamed bloody murder. And she would wash off. And she wouldn't let him eat fish because of the bones...Is this guy crazy like in Abe's story? Wasn't sure. He's unlikable, that's certain. But the story changes completely depending on how you read their particular situation. Based on the otherwise sane descriptions by the narrator, I felt we were entitled to know a little more about his relationship with her in regards to the bangin'. So, I'm going to have to dock a few points for that.
But then again, the red and white sandwich...
Score: 6.6
I'm considering now an additional possibility that the woman was screaming because she enjoyed the narrator's fleshfile...
If this is the case, I guess I'd pick a different phrase than "bloody murder" to describe her wails, especially in a story where the audience is already thinking murder.
How about: "She'd scream bloody mayonnaise" instead?
do i even have to say it? again?
who is this guy and why the fuck do i care? i like sex...and i like humid sex. but i already forgot if the lake is humid when the guy is telling us all this.
this one had a little more lake in it. that was good. and yep...the "screamed bloddy murder" line i na murder story...i can't dig it.
5.1
Cool story. I liked how you went out of your way to inhabit someone totally different from yourself to see how the world looked through their eyes. He's not a good guy, but his thuggish interior monlogue is sort of interesting. Because the story is told from the perspective of an unpleasant and not particularly bright dude, it's not a lot of fun to read. Because you opted for first person and, for your narrator, a guy who doesn't think deeply about anything, you're not really able to go for the redolent description route, but I think that even this guy might have offered up some observations or descriptions of the lake or his own mindset that could have been surprising or helped limn his character. (Though I did like the line about the radio and the red and white sandwich and the baseball game on the radio -- for whatever reason, that line tweaked my nostalgia buttons, even though I've never been by the side of a lake listening to a baseball game, but now I want to). Anyway, this wasn't bad, but it wasn't really to my taste. Looking forward to your April entry. I give it a 5.8.
Too Crude. Too Corny. Too Obvious.
4.4
Dudes - thanks for the feedback. I had fun with it. I think I'll take the next one more seriously.
BTW - I get a funny feeling that anonymous is Heath?
PAPA
six
My first gut reaction was an intense strong, personal dislike for your character. However, this works to your advantage as it is very believable that your character has just committed murder. Now, the question is, does judgeholden actually know you? Otherwise, how does he know that you went out of your way to inhabit someone totally different from yourself? Or should I be really relieved that we don't live in the same city? :o)
I find your descriptions very unique and powerful...with the "truckload of Jack Daniels" line, I have a very clear image of the lake water...and "trapped in the rib cage of a giant" and my personal favorite "bullfrog's rancid belch" - my nose suffers with this line.
I was totally lost with the red and white sandwich, but see now that it's a beer...typical redneck fare.
Final vote: 6
To Harwell: bloody mayonnaise? Ewww. Gross. Ick.
I, like Abe, am just getting my score in for tabulation. I will have a critique coming your way in the next couple of days. Thank you for your patience Papa.
Rating: 7.7
I, like Abe, am just getting my score in for tabulation. I will have a critique coming your way in the next couple of days. Thank you for your patience Papa.
Rating: 7.7
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