The story starts out simply, almost minimalist in tone. Why, it could be by another Hemingway.
But then it goes on. And on. And on.
Jeebus Christmas, James Franco is about the cutest damn thing I've ever seen on the silver screen, but he should just not try this writing thing. Nope. Acting, Jimmy; that's where it's at for you. Oh my; the run-on sentences. The meandering imagery and inner thoughts. The overuse of a certain four-letter word that begins with the letter F. Oh, my...
And before I even know it, or can enjoy the new look on Joe’s face, like a blubbery peekaboo face, so surprised, because I’m driving us right toward the vague beige shadow-filled wall, and I can only see and hear Joe for a second, a high-pitched thing that cracks for just a second, and for that second I’m with Joe’s voice on a plateau in the black of space, wherever it is that noise cracks like that and decibels live, and then it’s gone because there’s the metal sound so loud and it’s how I had always planned it to be, crunching, and a jerk and the front of my head is filled with the cold hollow sinus pain, the surprise punch in the nose that takes you back to childhood and there’s an immediate link to every other time you ever had your nose hit, by a ball, by a head, by your own knee, and after the surprise it doesn’t go away; but I’m still there and the tires behind me are screeching because my foot is still on the gas, and the car has gone a ways into the wall but it ain’t going any farther, and I look over at fat shit, and there is blood rolling out of a slice in his forehead, and some blood coming out of his mouth, and I think that it’s from the head gash until I see one of those teeth is now a black gap and he looks like a fat something-awful: hockey-player-pumpkin-cartoon-shithead, and he says,
"Why the fuck did you do that, Manuel?"
James, I want to give you writing lessons. Although I think (hope) we wouldn't get much writing done. Which, as far as the writing world goes, might just be all for the best...at least as far as, *ahem!*, you're concerned...