Silly Writing Exercise

A friend of mine sent me this link about writing exercises. I chose the exercise where two characters have a secret which isn't revealed to the reader or to each other. I'm not sure how well portrayed the secrets, but what came out of it was a first draft of this (rather silly) little story:

The Gnome Man's Land Pub* always had some rather eccentric people mixed in with the more normal folk. For example, tonight there was some short dude in a hooded cloak sitting at the bar. At least, Eddie was pretty sure it was a dude. It was hard to tell with the cloak and the dim lighting. Normally Eddie would have just gotten a beer or four and been on his way, but now he was wondering if maybe it wasn't a dude. In fact, he got to wondering so much that he made his way over just to find out.

"Excuse me, miss." Eddie said hopefully.

The figure turned, meeting his increasingly nervous face with the shadowy depths beneath it's hood. "I am not," began a squeaky voice, "a miss!"

"Ma'am?"

"No. I am male, you insufferable dolt!" The figure scrambled to stand up on the bar stool in an attempt to look more intimidating.

"I am sorry, small boy!"

"I am not...! Agh, never mind what I am or am not." The cloaked dude poked a gloved finger at Eddie's forehead. "You, foul sir, owe me a beer to make amends for the insults. This is custom, yes?"

"Uh," Eddie scratched his chin, "Yeah sure, why not."

The bartender walked by. "Ya know what's also custom is ta put yer behind insteada yer feet on da stool."

"Apologies." The cloaked dude plopped back down. "And now, beverages!"

The bartender stared a moment, then turned to Eddie, the more familiar patron. "Jus' two beers, Ralph, if ya don' mind." Eddie said. Ralph shrugged and went off to fetch the beers.

"Now," said the cloaked dude, "Your name and purpose for accosting me."

"The name's Eddie." said Eddie. "As fer me purpose, I don' reckon I have none no more seein' as how yer not a miss."

"Ah, I see. And now in turn, as is custom, I shall supply my own name and purpose. I am called Alfie, and I am in this filthy little town of yours only because I am in desperate need of a mechanic."

Eddie wondered where on Earth this crack pot came from. He said as much (in a more polite manner, of course). Alfie replied that it was none of his business 'you stupid toad'.

"And are you a mechanic?" Alfie inquired suddenly.

Eddie was so surprised by the change of subject that he forgot to be offended by Alfie's latest insult. "No, I'm a lumberjack." Eddie said.

"Oh. Explains the axe. Perhaps some companionable chat-chit to pass the time? I take it females are in short supply this season?"

"Actually, come to think of it, there are less women 'round town than there used to be. Smaller population in gen'ral, really. But I don't think that's what my problem is..."

"Perhaps they simply consider you too ugly."

Eddie felt a sudden urge to knock the little pipsqueak off his stool, but he remembered how his mother used to tell him to never get caught fighting. And he never did get caught at it, no ma'am. He downed his drink in one go as soon as Ralph came by with the beers. He signaled for a second beer and downed that as well.

Alfie took Eddie's silence as a reason to continue. "You don't look much like a jack lumberer. Aren't you supposed to have a beard?"

"I use ta have a beard, but I had ta start shavin', 'cause I kept gettin' lice an such."

"What is lice? Can you eat that?"

"I reckon ya could," Eddie said thoughtfully, "If'n youse was real hungry-like."

"Is it just my imagination, or is your grammar getting even more atrocious by the second?"

"Don' know whacha mean by 'ateriosus', but me mum always said I star' talkin' worsin' wi da alchi-hal. Whate'er dat is."

"My, I am finding this quite amusing. Waiter! Another beer! Oh waiter!" Alfie snapped his fingers; quite a feat with gloves on. Ralph gave Alfie a dirty look, but brought forth another beer nevertheless before stalking off.

"Aren't you supposed to wear plaid, too?" Alfie asked Eddie, as Eddie began guzzling the most recent mug of beer.

"Whachyer, yer, yer idear of a lumberjack, 'nyways?" Eddie asked between swigs.

Alfie pointed to the picture of a lumberjack, printed on a package of paper towels.

"I's got tha' same axe, I 'as."

"Ha. Well, maybe that dull axe would be enough to make you into the next jack lumbering star, if only you weren't so downright ugly. Which parent did you get your unfortunate genetics from? I'm only curious. You see, I'm studying the biology of unfortunate mutations. Was it your mother? Father? Perhaps some kind of recessive gene?"

Ralph came by again to start wiping down the bar, hoping Eddie and Alfie would get the message and go home like everyone else already had.

"Ralph, ano'er beer hic, den I'ma gonna slug this 'ere sucker!" Eddie said.

"Now Eddie, ya know three's yer limit." Ralph said.

"I don' care! hic I don' care! I'll, I'll, hic, where's me axe?"

"Ah yes, I took the liberty of storing that behind the bar, here, 'till ya clear yer head."

"Well now," Alfie cut in calmly, "For the payment." There was the sound of metal jingling as Alfie fished through a small bag. He brought out a handful of what looked to be bits and pieces of some rusty old machine.

Ralph groaned, "How many times do I have ta tell you people! Coins only!"

"Oh. Well, no matter. My misbegotten buddy, Eddie here, shall pay. He owes me for the insults anyway."

"Me!? hic I'm da won hic tha's insultin'?!"

"Yes. Obviously your mother never even taught you proper manners."

"You little...!" Eddie rushed at Alphie, or tried to. He wound up on the floor, sobbing. "hic Me poor mum, me poor ole hic mum..."

Alfie stood up (or hopped down, more accurately), stepped over Eddie, then made to leave.

"Ya didn't even try da beer!" Ralph said, offended.

Alfie tentatively took a sip of his untouched beer, then promptly spit it back into the mug. "A nasty substance! Here, you sniveling mass of snot, you take it." Alfie poured the beer over the sobbing and hiccuping Eddie and walked out into the night, the sounds of shattering glass and loud admonishments from Ralph behind him.

To be continued...


*After I finished the story, I typed in "Gnome Man's Land" into Google, and was dismayed to find thousands of results for the exact phrase. Guess it's hard to come up with something truly original with over 6 billion people in the world plus history, eh?