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Hey /lit/, I have a personal story that I think could have some literary merit, as in be adapted into a short story or an episode in a novel. As I have no talent as a writer, I'm leaving it here for any of you to use if you want.
Only problem is it might be a bit TOO absurd. If I saw this in a literary work it would seem very amateur, like the author was trying to force his work to be postmodern. But that's for you to decide.
>be me in 3rd year of university
>small college town
>move into a new house
>somewhat sketchy part of town, but not too bad
>discover next-door neighbor is a trap house (I can provide the definitive evidence if you with)
>main dude (Trap Lord) is a forty something year old black dude
>at first, besides the fact that they sell meth and crack they're generally chill people
>had a few cats
>one of their cats got run over, and a friend helped them shovel it up and take it to the house
>she went inside
>they have a room full of birds
>the birds aren't even in cages, just flying around and shitting everywhere
>one of them is a parrot
>okay so they have a bunch of birds, whatever
>gradually things become more violent
>one day I'm out for a cigarette and hear someone in the front yard getting beat with a blunt object
>there's a privacy fence so I can't see, but I hear
>"Nigga UHHNGH, fuck you nigga"
>eventually the victim gets up and sprints away down the street
>dfw_disgusted_face.pdf
>this type of shit begins happening with greater frequency
>gradually begin to realize that I'm living next to a FUCKING TRAP HOUSE
>they keep their windows open so every time I'm out for a cigarette and there's a loud disturbance, I hear it
>one time I hear Trap Lord beating his girlfriend
>sporadic violence continues for the entire two years I live next door
(cont 1/2)
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>>9001982
>frequently heard a very weird sound
>*angry human voice* followed by CRACK sound
>kinda fuzzy and disembodied so I always assumed it was the TV
>but I hear it practically every night when I’m out for a cigarette
>and it’s not preceded by any other noises, as you would expect if they were watching television
>just discrete and isolated *angry human voice* followed by CRACK sound
>then one day after a recent violent episode it hits me
>it’s the fucking parrot
>it’s coming from the bird room
>the parrot is mimicking the sound of Trap Lord and Co. beating the shit out of people
>a fucking parrot
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>>9001982
Thats some nice cultural appropriation you got there, would be a shame if someone took it.
What makes you think a story of a Trap Lords life through the eyes of a middlish class whyte boi college neighbor would be more interesting then his actual life?
Ok. it can be spruced up for sure. He can invite you over one time, to help him bury a dead body, or something serious comes up and he sees you outside and invites you over, to sell his drugs for the day while hes gone, and you can go into the tirades, and eventually you work your way up his ranks. and/Or his girlfriend comes onto you, and you develop a relationship, and he catches you. or you can start out cool, but then you start slanging on the side, and become rival drug lords of the college campus, holding rager parties next door. or you can become best bros and take over the world becoming he biggest drug lords supplying all the parties, and using messanger pigeons and parrots to deal
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Does postmodernism have any value as a genre whatsoever, or is it all just thinly veiled arbitrary opinions with a veneer of judgment?
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>>9002246
>he sees you outside and invites you over, to sell his drugs for the day
When he comes back, you start to leave, but he asks you if you want to stay for dinner, so you say yeah, you try to crack a joke "what will be having, chicken and kool aid", and then he knocks you out with a baseball bat, and feeds you to the birds, the parrot digests you and your spirit becomes entangled in the parrots, and you start talking, a little better than the parrot used to, saying "its me, holy shit... what the hell" and then he eventually believes you, and then you become best buddies, just kidding that doesnt happen, you dont do say that...
At some point some how, in the bird room, you some how eat some of the shit, and end up tripping balls, when the Lord comes back, after 5 hours, you tell him somehow some bird shit got on your cracker, snack, and it made you trip balls, you look at each other, then at the camera, at the same time, 'do you know what im thinking?' 1 2 3 "pack up all this shit into a car and lets go on a road "trip", "lets sell this shit"... yeah... and so you start a company, or just name the drug "fruity loops" and its the hottest rage, and technically is legal, so you patent and copyright it, and then you become world wide celebrities, and you become like brothers, because you were both in your own gutter rut, but it was fate and chance, that brought you together, that allowed you to make it to the top, so you have some deep connection, so the story goes through your ups and downs, staying by each others sides, etc.
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>>9002246
>What makes you think a story of a Trap Lords life through the eyes of a middlish class whyte boi college neighbor would be more interesting then his actual life?
Mostly the fact that the latter has already been deconstructed in 2pac music videos.
>He can invite you over one time, to help him bury a dead body, or something serious comes up and he sees you outside and invites you over, to sell his drugs for the day while hes gone
Not sure if you're memeing, but this could actually end up being funny.
But you're ignoring the whole parrot aspect of all this.
>>9002360
It's past midnight on the east coast, Tom, and you're eighty years old. It's time to go to bed.
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