In any case I brought him back for my second year art and design university creative writing class. I say that to feel fancy, but then I feel like I'm being pretentious.
I digress once more. I reworked a couple of stories from old QLP to submit for my personal writing critique this week. I get my critiques on Tuesday and was going to wait until then to post the reworked stories, but I couldn't wait.
Here is the reworking of this story from January 2009. If any of you are still out there reading QLP let me know what you think.
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Inbox (2)
Hugh Manatee got out of his bed. Unlike the
majority of the population this was no small feat. To get out of bed Hugh
Manatee had to wake up, which he was always unsure would happen, this was due
to his sleep apnea, which, was caused by his large barrel like aquatic
mammalian body living out of water.
Hugh had not moved since 5:33 this morning
when he rolled over after turning off his alarm clock, which awoke him at 5:30,
he had spent the three minutes thinking of how miserable the early morning was.
It was now slightly past two in the afternoon. As he squinted like a mole just
emerging from it’s burrow, Hugh begrudgingly rolled out of bed and closed the
blinds with contempt. Hugh thought of how wondrous it would be to be an owl,
for no reason other than “they don’t have to deal with this shit”. Hugh didn’t
move until hours later, due to being crippled by his self-loathing and not
having enough energy to exert the effort it takes to move his large aquatic
mammalian body from his bed; but e-mails had to be checked.
It was 9:34 pm. Hugh Manatee left his room,
He walked (or what would be considered walking as a manatee) over to his
computer (it sat in the corner of his living room on a small metal desk he had
purchased from Ikea), he turned on his computer (and then checked his e-mail). Inbox
(2), Hugh looked at the subjects and determined that these two e-mails were
insignificant to his day. Hugh decided that he would leave the e-mails until
Monday when he could check them at work and perhaps feel as if they were more
significant.
Hugh Manatee moved from his metal desk
(which he had purchased from Ikea), to his couch (which was not purchased from
Ikea). The couch was light blue, with a large white floral print on it. This
was not a very manatee-esque couch, but Hugh was non-concerned with this fact
as he flopped over onto the couch and turned on his television.
“I should buy something,” though Hugh
Manatee as he watched the happy people on the television try to sell him some
new fangled worthless contraption for three easy payments of $19.99. “Maybe I’m
depressed?”
“Maybe you are,” nagged his inner voice.
“Shut up!” Hugh shouted into his single
residence apartment. There was no reply.
“Fuck,” Hugh Manatee realized that the only
company he kept was the company of him, and even his own company did not want
to keep his company.
“Maybe
I am depressed,” Hugh Manatee said aloud. There was still no reply.
The smiling faces, laughter and looks of
pleasant surprise and awe of the people selling a product they had probably
never used before, and never intended on buying for three easy payments of
$19.99 continued on the television; Hugh Manatee laid alone on his couch. For a
split second Hugh Manatee felt something that could have, maybe been identified
as real emotion. Hugh being a manatee, and being void of much emotion did not
know what this feeling was and mistook sadness for an itch on a rash he had
acquired from the cubicle at work.
“Fuck,” Hugh manatee thought, now devoid of
emotion as the television continued to flicker.
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