My friend Leslee and I were at Borders thinking about how many of the bestselling novelists write over-the-top characters. We decided to try making extreme protagonists as a writing exercise, and this is my attempt. We limited ourselves to four paragraph stories. Leslee's was way cooler and I told her she could develop a novel from it.
"Where the hell am I?" Its so dark and something smells bad. It smells like something has died. I need to turn the light on - I think I'm going to be sick. Maybe I just need to stand up. Uh. Too much effort. I'll just like here for a moment.
God, I can't remember what happened last night. We were going down to the bar - fuck, I hope I didn't drive back. I probably swerved all over the road. Hmm. Maybe I did. My head hurts - best there is no light afterall. I wonder what time it is. It must still be night.
Have to get up. I can't stand that smell. It's like a skunk died, got eaten by maggots, then the maggots died and got eaten by mini-maggots. Then the mini-maggots - oh fuck I'm going to be sick - I have to - "Rrrrch-"
"Ow!" What the fuck? What is that? What is that, wood? It's right above me! I'm in some sort of box! What the hell happened last night? The wood is covered in something - satin? SATIN? Am I in a coffin? Oh, hell, some sicko has put me in a coffin! My face - oh no - ohnoohnooho - I've been here for a very long time --