Morning Pages

So I'm in a screenwriting class this semester and as you can imagine the class involves a lot of writing. Usually these professors like it if the students write everyday to stay sharp. It's an old rule of writing that writing everyday is the only way to be and stay good at writing. I agree kind of. That's one of the reasons I started this blog. So anyway this professor is no different and wants us to wake up and write three pages of whatever the fuck we want to everyday. While I am not going to write three pages a day first thing in the morning (I prefer to masturbate, shower and eat lunch when I wake up) I am going to write three pages a day (since these will be collected for a grade at some point).

The first thing I decided to write was a take on a Nathaniel Hawthorne short story I had to read in a World Lit class. It was a pretty stupid story about some guy leaving his home on a journey who runs into another guy who later turns out to be the devil. It takes place in Puritan times. It kind of reminded me of the Devil and Daniel Webster. Anyway I thought it was stupid because within the first three hundred words anyone not retarded could tell that this one guy was the devil. I'm not just talking about readers, but actual characters in the story should have been able to guess that this guy was the devil. I guess people were stupid back then though. The story is about morality and the main character's name is Goodman, as in he is a Good Man. Also pretty retarded. Hawthorne really wanted to just beat his readers over the head I guess. But enough of me, a blogger, ripping on a brilliant American author. This story is a variation on that Hawthorne story, only updated to modern times. I tried to follow the format and action of the story as closely as I could remember. I even put a few notes at the bottom just like the book I read it in did. I'm not promising this will be good, but I figured I throw it on here anyway.

The Tale of Goodman, John

There was a man once, from near a corner of Missouri. His name was Goodman, John Goodman, but not that John Goodman. Goodman was an honest and moral Christian. On forty days past he had wed the young daughter of a farmer two counties over. Goodman and his young wife lived on the outskirt of town, their home was humble and mobile. Goodman's wife was a gorgeous bride. Her name was Faith. John and Faith Goodman were very much in love and everyday that Goodman left for the market to purchase his 2x4's* Faith mourned his absence. It was for this reason Goodman felt regreat that he again had to leave his wife, although this time for much longer than the usual nine hours. Goodman was to set off on a journey to Steeleville for seventeen days. Goodman's compatriot Jasper had come across more than 700 logs of firewood and planned to sell them individually to college students floating on the nearby river for three dollars a log.

Goodman kissed his wife goodbye. He wished he did not have to leave so young a wife alone for near three weeks. Only fiffteen, he thought to himself, tis a shame.

"Goodbye my love." Goodman said to Faith.
"Write me Goodman so that I may know you are well." She wishfully requested.
"Ain't got no money for stamps, but maybe after our logs are sold I may be be able to phone you." Goodman replied.
"Then on the seventeenth day, if you are not yet returned I will wait by the pay phone at Dairy Queen for your call." Faith said.
"Then on the seventeenth day, if I'm not returned, I will call that pay phone outside Dairy Queen. Now you go back inside, the time will pass much more quickly than you think." Goodman said to his wife.

Faith nodded, kissed Goodman again and closed the door. Goodman began to walk down the road and as he did he turned back for one last look at his home. He noticed Faith watching him through the rear window. When Faith saw him turned towards the home she smiled to Goodman. Goodman knew though that sadness remained in her heart. Neither her wide smile nor her pretty pink Hannah Montana shirt could hide her saddness over Goodman leaving. She is a good wife, Goodman thought.

Goodman now was far down the road and his home was out of sight. He was making his way to the rendevous he had arranged on Craigslist. A fellow had answered his ad about a ride to Steeleville. Goodman was to meet him on this road. No sooner had Goodman thought of the fellow than did he appear from behind a tree.

"Goodman." Said the man as if he had already known it was Goodman.
"Are you the man from Craigslist?" The man who's to guide me to my destination?" Goodman asked cautiously.
"Yes, I am indeed." Replied the man.
"Where is your truck?" Asked Goodman.
"Come with me, we will retrieve it." The man said, beginning to turn towards the forest.

The two walked side by side through the woods. Although similar in build and height the other man some how seemed much older than Goodman. To an observer they may have appeared to be father and son even. As they continued through deeper into the forest Goodman began to fatigue. The five 2x4's he had consumed on the journey thus far had sapped his strength.

"Are you tired Goodman?" The man asked. "So early into the journey too! Take my walking stick if you'd like."

The stick was painted black and had lightening bolts up and down it. On the top of the stick a cobra's head was carved. Goodman was still weary, his eyes were fuzzy. This and the coming night tricked Goodman's eyes, the cobra appeared to him to be alive.

"No more." Exclaimed Goodman. "I have not travelled this deep into the forest before. Neither I nor my father nor his father have been guided this far. I must turn back."

The man starred at Goodman for a moment and then replied:
"Goodman sir you are wrong though. I myself have guided many of your family this deep. I took your father through here while he was a part of a lynch mob, your grandfather too I knew when he bootlegged gin and whisky through here, and also that time when he was in a lynch mob."

Goodman began to walk again against his conscience's advice. The cobra atop the stick again appeared to move and come to life.

"I am surprised they never spoke of me." Said the man.
"Are you the devil?" Goodman asked suddenly.
"What?" Replied the man taken aback.
"Are you the devil?" Goodman asked again.
"Why would you ask that?" The man asked straight faced.
"Well let's see. I'm pretty sure this cobra head on the walking stick is alive, oh yup in fact it's moving right now. That's a little weird since it's made of wood. Also you said you helped my dad lynch someone and my granddad smuggle liquour. That's also kind of strange since A) both those things are bad and B) if you knew my granddad out that would put you at about 100 years old but you don't look a day over 43. So you tell me. Are you the devil in human form come to assist me in sin in exchange for my soul or just some lying asshole put LSD in my 2x4?"

The man paused for a moment.

"Actually yeah, I'm the devil. Now do you want to make some decent coin selling overpriced firewood to college kids or not?"
"Yes sir I do." Replied Goodman.

And with that the two men began to walk again.



*2x4's are 24oz cans of beer, hoosiers and homeless people often drink them.