I'm taking a short story writing class now, and the first assignment is a character sketch. I chose to do one on one of my CoX toons. Any feedback would be appreciated.
* * * * *
She's so damnably perfect.
I don't really care that we're all but twins. Dimensionally, I mean. Born to the same parents, same place, different universes. For some reason she's three years older. But still born on the same day. Her mother had a sixteen hour labor. Same as mine. We're all but twins. Same face, hers has more laughter and light. She's a successful stock broker. Going to Paragon U for a Masters in Folk Literature. Nothing like that where I'm from. Sometimes I hate my Primal Self.
“Heya, E, ya never said what you wanted for dinner on Friday. I picked the rest of the week. And not takeout again, please!”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever's fine Brah. I don't really care.” Its how we separate ourselves. Our mothers were insane. (Who names their *daughter* Elizabeth Glorien Jr.?) She gets the childhood nickname. Its her world, after all. “You liked that stuffed pepper recipe, right?” She's still got that Kansas drawl. I don't know when I lost mine.
“Yah. Ya okay with making it? Not gonna torch the baking stone this time?”
“Yes, Brah, I can make it. And I bought you a new one, anyway!” She's got a nice little condo in Skyway. I don't know why I live there. We're too much alike. Have our toothbrushes in the same spot. Use the same shampoo. Like laying on the couch the same way. Sleep on the same side of the bed. (That's one of the messy parts. We get tangled together, sleeping.) I really should move out.
“Ain't I heard that before. Ya good to head to Cim with Miranda later?”
Another rolling of eyes. She's picking out the bell peppers from the tray. Looking over them, feeling for soft spots. I double-blink at the sign that says that they were organicly grown, no help from any Plant 'Trollers. Why would they even...? “I'm good for it, Brahela. There are seven of us in the Acadame going. Someone from Legendary is coming to supervise.” She's in the parent organization. I'm in one of the sub organizations. They do more. Are more active. More MORE, I suppose. “Do you know who its going to be?”
“Mmn. Maybe. Think Eva's got our names, a dartboard, and a few darts. That'll choose.”
Wait. *What?* “You're on the list?”
“Ah'course. I'm on active duty. I listed myself free tonight. Didn't say no when she asked. Think five will be enough? Leftovers for later.”
Five? “The peppers? But what about-? Yes, five are good. Why didn't you tell me before this?” Just because she's so...
“Didn't really think about it. Ya had the Cim venture on the calender. Eva asked for names at the meeting earlier today. We haven't really talked about things today.”
My fault. Running errands for the Acadame. Getting my required contribution out of the way. Auditing some classes. Staying away from her home. From her. One of the reasons I signed on for the outing. Breakfast and lunch were free, but she was like Mom, always wanted dinner to be 'Family'. The Club was free for transit to Cimeroa this evening, and that's what the Headmistress scheduled. “Ahkay...” Damn that stupid accent.
She stops, a couple of limp carrots in hand. She cants her head to the side. Oh, no. Not this again.
Her hug enfolds me. We're the same height, her chin rest over my shoulder as I bury my face in her neck and feel the sting in my eyes.
She's so damn perfect.
* * * * *
She's so damnably perfect.
I don't really care that we're all but twins. Dimensionally, I mean. Born to the same parents, same place, different universes. For some reason she's three years older. But still born on the same day. Her mother had a sixteen hour labor. Same as mine. We're all but twins. Same face, hers has more laughter and light. She's a successful stock broker. Going to Paragon U for a Masters in Folk Literature. Nothing like that where I'm from. Sometimes I hate my Primal Self.
“Heya, E, ya never said what you wanted for dinner on Friday. I picked the rest of the week. And not takeout again, please!”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever's fine Brah. I don't really care.” Its how we separate ourselves. Our mothers were insane. (Who names their *daughter* Elizabeth Glorien Jr.?) She gets the childhood nickname. Its her world, after all. “You liked that stuffed pepper recipe, right?” She's still got that Kansas drawl. I don't know when I lost mine.
“Yah. Ya okay with making it? Not gonna torch the baking stone this time?”
“Yes, Brah, I can make it. And I bought you a new one, anyway!” She's got a nice little condo in Skyway. I don't know why I live there. We're too much alike. Have our toothbrushes in the same spot. Use the same shampoo. Like laying on the couch the same way. Sleep on the same side of the bed. (That's one of the messy parts. We get tangled together, sleeping.) I really should move out.
“Ain't I heard that before. Ya good to head to Cim with Miranda later?”
Another rolling of eyes. She's picking out the bell peppers from the tray. Looking over them, feeling for soft spots. I double-blink at the sign that says that they were organicly grown, no help from any Plant 'Trollers. Why would they even...? “I'm good for it, Brahela. There are seven of us in the Acadame going. Someone from Legendary is coming to supervise.” She's in the parent organization. I'm in one of the sub organizations. They do more. Are more active. More MORE, I suppose. “Do you know who its going to be?”
“Mmn. Maybe. Think Eva's got our names, a dartboard, and a few darts. That'll choose.”
Wait. *What?* “You're on the list?”
“Ah'course. I'm on active duty. I listed myself free tonight. Didn't say no when she asked. Think five will be enough? Leftovers for later.”
Five? “The peppers? But what about-? Yes, five are good. Why didn't you tell me before this?” Just because she's so...
“Didn't really think about it. Ya had the Cim venture on the calender. Eva asked for names at the meeting earlier today. We haven't really talked about things today.”
My fault. Running errands for the Acadame. Getting my required contribution out of the way. Auditing some classes. Staying away from her home. From her. One of the reasons I signed on for the outing. Breakfast and lunch were free, but she was like Mom, always wanted dinner to be 'Family'. The Club was free for transit to Cimeroa this evening, and that's what the Headmistress scheduled. “Ahkay...” Damn that stupid accent.
She stops, a couple of limp carrots in hand. She cants her head to the side. Oh, no. Not this again.
Her hug enfolds me. We're the same height, her chin rest over my shoulder as I bury my face in her neck and feel the sting in my eyes.
She's so damn perfect.