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Yves Explains It All

Page history last edited by PBworks 14 years, 8 months ago

Yves Explains It All

Cutting Room FloorBook OneBook TwoBook ThreeThe Menagerie

 

When a scene centers around dialogue, rather than action, I sometimes write out the dialogue first, so when I write the scene itself, I already have a natural-sounding exchange between characters and a checklist of the important things I want the characters to say during the scene. This dialogue takes place between Yves (Y) and Dee (D) as they pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex. In this exchange, Yves lays bare the Story Thus Far. In fact, he explains everything so baldly I think it may give too much away, making express what I hoped to be able to keep implied, and I may not include it in the story. Consider what Yves says here to be reverse spoilers.

The complex, by the way, although yet unnamed in the story, is called The Channel Apartments, "Efficient Luxury for Executive Living," named after the former waterfront turned superfund site next door. Bee, Dee, Ursula, Viggo, and Yves all live (or, in at least one case, lived) in The Channel Building # 4, known to the locals as "4Chan."

Oblimo

5/19 — Me again. I've added the completed scene below. I don't want to post it to the main page because this section doesn't move the story forward...yet...and I'm working on somethin' big.

Oblimo

 



Dialogue Outline

 

Y: "So, to sum up: You're in love with Galatea. Galatea is a meliae, a honey nymph of ancient myth."

 

D: "Yup."

 

Y: "Made out of Jell-O."

 

D: "The ancient myth isn't about Jell-O, obviously. The first honey nymphs were probably formed from real honey or sweet tree sap. Something all-natural. Tomoe said I could look it up on the Internet."

 

Y: "But Galatea is made out of Jell-O."

 

D: "She's more nanomek than Jell-O, although she keeps asking for collagen. That's the protein in gelatin. It would give the nanomek more raw material, give her more power, or something like that. I don't really understand that part."

 

Y: "Okay. But the myth of the meliae is just a cover-up for guys who are into goo girls, an Internet fetish that's been a secret part of human history for thousands of years, even during the age of Atlantis, which really existed until it was destroyed...by said goo girls."

 

D: "Yup. Unless Tomoe is lying, but I bet there's a rule against that."

 

Y: "Oh, right, Tomoe Exposition. I forgot that part: the myth is a cover-up for the fetish, but the fetish itself is just a scheme of this medical supply company to make a quick five bucks."

 

D: "You could say that, yeah."

 

Y: "And Galatea's a lime meliae, the most powerful, dangerous, and horniest honey nymph of them all. Every man that's ever made one becomes so overwhelmed by her insatiable, sexual appetite that he succumbs to sublimation, which in this case means he's consumed and slowly destroyed by perpetual orgasm. Every man, that is, until Dieter Detweiler, who, despite his nice-guy exterior, is such a freaky sex machine that the he overwhelms her."

 

D: "Uh, I'm not sure I'd put it that way—"

 

Y: "I'm not finished. So this super-freak Dee and this super-nympho Galatea spend four days in a nonstop fuck-a-thon, each trying to one-up the other in a triple-X battle of the sexes to prove, once and for all, who's the most perverted: men or women."

 

D: "Where the Hell—"

 

Y: "Shut up. But while Galatea tries to drown Dee in sex and Dee tries to get Galatea so turned on she'll burn up and dissolve, they wind up learning a lot about each other and fall in love instead. In fact, Galatea loves Dee so much that she uses meliae magic to give Dee superhuman strength and endurance, which saves his life when Bee, that creep who lives on the first floor, tries to kill him."

 

D: "Um."

 

Y: "It takes days for Dee, as clueless as he is impervious, to finally realize she has given him these incredible gifts. For some stupid reason, this makes him bitchy. He treats her to one of his infamous, rehearsed hissy fits. He walks out on her, leaving her alone for hours, wondering if he's ever going to return, or whether he's going to dump her when he does return."

 

D: "…Wow, I really fucked up, didn't I?"

 

Y: "Yes, Dee. You really did."


Completed Scene

Yves' Jeep sped down Rural Route Four. Dee stared out into the false dawn of Zodiacal light ghosting the horizon. "Bee wanted the nanomek so much he tried to kill me," he said, "and I wanted to be rid of it so badly—I could not stand to look at it a second longer—that I, well, I gave it to him. He ran off. I haven't seen Bee since. I hope he hasn't done anything stupid."

 

Yves grimaced, shoulders sagging, but he watched the road and said nothing.

 

"Then I drove Galatea home." Dee sighed. "And that's it. Now you know the whole story."

 

The Jeep's canvas top rustled for a minute before Yves spoke. "So," he said, "to sum up: You're in love with Galatea. Galatea is a meliae, a honey nymph of ancient myth."

 

"Yup."

 

Yves gave Dee a sidelong glance. "Made out of Jell-O," he added.

 

"The ancient myth isn't about Jell-O, obviously," Dee said. "The first honey nymphs were probably created from real honey or sweet tree sap. Something all-natural. Tomoe said I could look it up on the Internet."

 

The Jeep drew near a faded billboard advertising "The Channel Apartment Home Community: Efficient Luxury for Executive Living." I've driven by that damn sign twice every work day for four years, Dee thought. I still have no idea what that slogan means.

 

"But Galatea's made out of Jell-O," Yves repeated.

 

"She's more nanomek than Jell-O," Dee said, "although she keeps asking for collagen. That's the protein in gelatin. It would give her nanomek more raw material, or make her stronger, something like that. I don't really understand that part."

 

Yves shrugged. "Okay. But the myth of the meliae is just a cover-up for guys who are into goo girls, an Internet fetish that's been a secret part of human history for thousands of years, even during the age of Atlantis, which really existed until it was destroyed..." Yves glanced sidelong again. "…destroyed by said goo girls."

 

"Slow down," Dee cautioned. "There's always a cop with a radar gun right there. Always."

 

Yves coaxed a few more miles-per-hour out of the Jeep's taxed engine. "Probably not tonight," he said.

 

"Why not?"

 

"'Public fuckability,'" Yves reminded.

 

"Yeah, yeah," Dee said, arms folding. "Anyway, yes, Atlantis really existed until it sank under a goo girl rampage. Unless Tomoe was lying, but I bet she has a rule against that."

 

Yves hit the brake and pulled the Jeep onto the off ramp. "Oh, right, Tomoe Exposition. I forgot that part: the myth is a cover-up for the fetish, but the fetish itself is just a scheme of this medical supply company to make a quick five bucks."

 

The Jeep lurched to a halt in front of a closed iron gate. A welded, green placard declared "Welcome to The Channel Apartments" in flaking gold letters.

 

"You could say that, yeah," Dee said as Yves unrolled the driver side window and waved a keycard at an electric reader. The reader's red LED eye winked and the gate rolled open.

 

"And Galatea's a lime meliae," Yves said, timing the Jeep's entrance through the yawning gate so closely Dee thought he might shear off a side view mirror. "The most powerful, dangerous, and horniest honey nymph of them all."

 

Yves drove by the deluxe apartment homes of Channel One and Two. "Every man that's ever made one," Yves said, "becomes so overwhelmed by her insatiable, sexual appetite that he succumbs to sublimation, which in this case means he's consumed and slowly destroyed by perpetual orgasm."

 

Channel Three, a complex of family suites, swooped in and out of sight as the Jeep bounced by.

 

"Every man, that is," Yves said, leveling a finger at Dee, "until Dieter Detweiler, who, despite his nice-guy exterior, is such a freaky sex machine that the he overwhelms her."

 

The Jeep rocked as Yves goaded it over a speed bump. "Uh," Dee said, "I'm not sure I'd put it that way—"

 

"I'm not finished." Yves snapped, pulling off a hairpin turn into a row of covered parking. "So this super-freak Dee and this super-nympho Galatea spend four days in a nonstop fuck-a-thon, each trying to one-up the other in a triple-X battle of the sexes to prove, once and for all, who's the most perverted: men or women."

 

Dee threw his hands in the air. "What the Hell—"

 

"Shut up. But while Galatea tries to drown Dee in sex and Dee tries to get Galatea so turned on she'll burn up and dissolve, they wind up learning a lot about each other and fall in love instead." The Jeep lurched into a narrow parking space. "In fact," Yves continued, "Galatea loves Dee so much that she uses meliae magic to give Dee superhuman strength and endurance, which saves his life when Bee, that creep who lives on the first floor, tries to kill him."

 

Dee said, "Um."

 

"It took days," Yves said, hauling up the emergency break, "days for Dee, as clueless as he is impervious, to finally realize she had given him these incredible gifts. For some stupid reason, this makes him bitchy. He treats her to one of his infamous, rehearsed hissy fits. He walks out on her, leaving her alone for hours, wondering if he's ever going to return, or whether he's going to dump her when he does return."

 

"…Wow," Dee eventually said, "I really fucked up, didn't I?"

 

"Yes, Dee. You really did. If your story were true and not some delusional break from reality, that is. Good God, Dee, what you just told me makes my teenage wet dreams sound like Ibsen plays in comparison."

 

Dee sank in his seat. "You don't believe me?"

 

Yves glared at him but then shook his head. "I don't know," he said, "but I'm going to soon enough."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Yves unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over Dee to pull on the passenger side door handle. "Dee," he said, pushing the door open, "do me the honor of introducing me to your beloved."

 


Cutting Room FloorBook OneBook TwoBook ThreeThe Menagerie

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