Off The Cuff

I'm really blowing my own horn here, but I've just came to realize that I'm able to write stories off the cuff (definition: impromptu). In fact, when I think about it again, most of my stories in this blog are impromptu, just that it didn't occur to me until a friend asked me to review her story.

I'm a reader who prefers one or two emotional situations per chapters in books I read. From suspense to romance, or from horror to elation, etc, in one chapter. However, the chapter my friend asked me to review, was from suspense to serenity to suspense to serenity. I'd prefer to have it split into two chapters. To show her an example of extreme change of story atmosphere (and genre), I wrote the following back to her within 5 minutes of reading her story.

I do notice that while my mind works for stories (actually, it's not original, but plagiarism or based on other stories I've read my entire life), my grammar gets worse as I write faster. Anyway, enjoy the extreme Chapter.

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A burly men stepped through the door and shoved Peter down to the floor. “You asshole!”, Peter exclaimed. It’s been a while since he last saw his brother. “How ya’ doin’, kiddo?”, Michael picked him up from the floor. Looking at each other’s face, Peter smiled, his brother didn’t change at all. In fact, he’s not moving, just transfixed.

Just then Peter realized blood oozing from his brother’s neckline. Then his body slipped away, replaced by a tall man in black costume holding a ninja blade behind him. “Oh my god, my ex-wife’s uncle found me!”, Peter trembled in fear. “I told you never to mess with my niece! You stole her recipe, left her and opened this restaurant under your name! Now, face the consequences.”

As the man approached, he slipped on a banana peel and fell backward. The ninja blade flew into the air and landed into the table, breaking the plate of spaghetti and landed the tip of the blade protruding between two meatballs. “My, that’s a humongous dick replica”, thought Peter. The man, having fell and hitting his head hard on the floor, fainted. Just then, Peter had a nasty thought. He have been finding this man quite attractive since he married his ex-wife.

Peter crept down to the man, checking for a pulse. Yes, he’s still alive of course. Then he slapped the man a few times, seems he’s really out of it. The zippers started being undone, and then off comes the pants. Peter’s heart beats fast as he pulled down the boxers and started to place his lips on the man’s member.

The enjoyment lasted a while, but then Peter heard sounds from the toilet a few paces behind him. “Who’s that?”, he thought. He stopped his activity and proceeded to the toilet, thinking that another attempt to kill him drew near. As he entered one cubicle, he heard a flush in the other. Then he turned to see the other cubicle, and a laughter ringed in the room. He was just about to run out when something moved in the mirror. He glanced at it, and sees himself, with blood spattered on his face, fangs and black eyes staring back at him. Behind his horrible mirror-image, he saw a woman in white.

“Oh my god! Mother!”, Peter shrieked! He turned around, but his no one was there, but the image in the mirror stilled. It moved towards Peter and he could feel a cold touch to his shoulder. “Peter, the Cube of Veta Sigma must be saved! The aliens will arrive tomorrow night, and you need to meet Mr J. Just to go the corner donut shop and ask for Lou Bega. He will show you the way. Go now! For the sake of humanity, Peter. Go now!”

The image disappeared as Peter left the toilet.