# Life



## Rookish (May 25, 2016)

Now then, a tale, a story. Perhaps a saga? Well, to you lurking behind the third wall, as the writer of that which you are reading after I wrote it, I say, while writing it, that this is a type of tale.


 It begins in a kitchen, the kitchen has a table and for the Naude family the time of breakfast has arrived.
 After a night of unconscious inactivity, their mouths are near-drooling with the anticipation of this harbinger meal.

 “Close your eyes for prayer,” Khabo said to the three other members of his suburban tribe.

 As the father commenced their daily pleadings and professions of gratitude towards a sky deity, the food awaited its consumption. 
Already placed in plates, the eggs were runny, the bacon over-cooked and the fried tomatoes were the soggy embodiment of culinary apathy. 

 “Amen.”

 And with that word, blessing was given unto the awaiting maws to commence their rushed feast. Elsa was the only exception, as she sat all prim and proper, wielding her cutlery with the poise of a contented cat. She haughtily stared across the table at her brother, a human of lesser years and a far more brutish bearing.

 “The circus is on for the last time tonight. Can we go, ma?” were Henk's words as he chewed on a rasher of hardy bacon. This deceased pig's contribution to humanity crackled under the onslaught of his molars.

 Ma Aubre instinctively looked at her husband, the tyrant of their house who was also the factotum of the local school. This ever-present patriarch gave his son a penetrating stare, the sort of stare that humans give their canine slaves while holding a bowl of gruel.

 “Well now, you know those folks ask money for that kind of thing. I’ll be dead and buried before I pay for you to see some deviant bastards prancing about in face-paint while some wretched type of foreigner jumps through hoops and fondles lions,” he finally said, with his eyes still firmly pegged upon this other male within his territory. 
 The look of disappointment on his son’s face was quickly replaced with one of obedient fear. 

 With his family commencing their feeding in silence, his dominance was established. Now he struck a match and lit the cheapest brand of cigarette that money could buy. 
With smoke swirling about the kitchen and over half-filled plates, his territory was clearly marked. This made his upper lip twitch slightly. 
For him, this minuscule movement was a smile. 


This, then, is the end. 

Now, I assume you have eyes and with those bulbous organs your brain has been informed of more squiggly things below.
 Well, this is the end of that scene, so strike the kitchen and the food and the humans from your memory and burn them until the wind steals away the ashes. 
Now recall the humans, because they are discussed once more.

The Naude family lived on after that meal, as they did after most meals. Henk, the brother of Elsa, begat by Khabo and Aubre, who were the descendants of...let's just skip all that. Henk never went to see the circus on that day. Yet, something had changed, for in his mundane existence a glimmer of red-nosed salvation had appeared. Diligently he acquired items of absurd hilarity, items that were hidden under his bed and used only in the utmost comedic privacy.

Time trickled onward and his collection grew.


 About thirty years after that breakfasting, Khabo(the father of the family, for you who are inattentive) died of a heart attack. This came as no great surprise to his kin, for his habits of mimicking chimneys were no great boon to the cardiovascular realms established within his body.


His wife's nerves were frazzled by the economic concerns of child-folk, and by her husband, who by the laws of causality should have died in some silly war, a war initiated solely for the pruning of such psychopaths from the rank and file of polite society. 

With her children long gone, the municipal council forced Aubrey into a local prison for elderly folk.
It reeked much like the floors of a seedy tavern and its nurses were  superior in girth and grumpiness to many a bouncer.
 There she became a criminal queenpin, dealing in regulated pills, banned wheelchair parts and codes for the unblocking of television channels. 


Meanwhile, on foreign shores, Elsa had become a travel agent. 
Crippling amnesia was the diagnosis after an escaped airport trolley ambushed her on an escalator. 
Her family was completely forgotten, and with no memories or direction in life, she vowed to inform all humans who dared to enter flying metal tubes of the land-based calamities that might befall them.

This venture of hers was quite the success, leading to a marriage with actress Ivona Khamil, who mainly starred in films about diplomatic piracy and the less popular of philosophers. 


Before all this transpired, Henk had joined a circus. One night he had simply gathered up his oddities, left home and wandered along the railways until bright lights and carnival music became his Valhalla. He evolved into a clown of great repute, with his performance featuring an obese donkey, a skateboard and a gumboot being admired by all the peoples of this spinning rock that we call home. 

He sadly suffered from coulrophobia in his later years, a condition which led to his eventual suicide.


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## Reichelina (Jun 6, 2016)

Hi! 
I think this is interesting.



> It begins in a kitchen, the kitchen has a table and for the Naude family the time of breakfast has arrived.



Everyone knows a kitchen has a table, but I don't know, I liked how you laid this out here. 
It kind of gave an emphasis on the idea that they were eating on the table; a communion. 




> This, then, is the end.
> For the truly curious reader, however, a slight continuation is added.
> 
> Thirty years later, Khabo died of a heart attack and Aubre was forced into a prison where other old folk wailed throughout the night.
> ...



As a reader, I can think of things to fill in the blanks. I think this is interesting, but maybe you could've added more details in the beginning so as to lead your readers in a more specific ideas? 
Overall, I liked it.  

Thanks!


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## Rookish (Jun 7, 2016)

Hey Reichelina, I'm glad you liked it.

This was sort of an experiment to see whether I can write longer pieces in a humorous manner (not sure whether you found it outright funny...)
I wanted to end it with the crotchety man's smile, but my curiosity of the family's eventual fate brought about a quick addendum . 
It also irks me when stories end with a brief summary of little substance, so here I committed a self-indulging personal sin : ) 

Your advice was followed, with the ending now transformed into a more obese being.

Thanks for the post.

[Thinking about all the people that have mere chairless counters in their kitchen made me conjure up a table : P]


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## PrinzeCharming (Jun 12, 2016)

*Hey Roo, *

I'll give you some feedback. 



Rookish said:


> It begins in a kitchen, the kitchen has a table and for the Naude family the time of breakfast has arrived.
> After a night of unconscious inactivity, their mouths are near-drooling with the anticipation of this harbinger meal.


 
This is an interesting introduction. Question. Why not just say, "It begins at the Naude family's kitchen table. Breakfast has arrived." Clearly, the kitchen may typically have a table. Not all kitchens, but majority. It's something to think about. 



Rookish said:


> “Close your eyes for prayer,” Khabo said to the three other members of his suburban tribe.


 
I like this concept, "suburban tribe." It sounds exotic. 



Rookish said:


> As the father commenced their daily pleadings and professions of gratitude towards a sky deity, the food awaited its consumption.
> Already placed in plates, the eggs were runny, the bacon over-cooked and the fried tomatoes were the soggy embodiment of culinary apathy.
> “Amen.”



This is an interesting play on words. Great imagery depicted here. 



Rookish said:


> And with that word, blessing was given unto the awaiting maws to commence their rushed feast. Elsa was the only exception, as she sat all prim and proper, wielding her cutlery with the poise of a contented cat. She haughtily stared across the table at her brother, a human of lesser years and a far more brutish bearing.


 
This playfully provides a glimpse of the relationships involved around the table. 



Rookish said:


> “The circus is on for the last time tonight. Can we go, ma?” were his words as he chewed on a piece of bacon, bacon which crackled defiantly under the onslaught of his molars.



This is slightly wordy. Try to condense it. 



Rookish said:


> Ma Aubre instinctively looked at her husband, the tyrant of their house who was also the factotum of the local school. This ever-present patriarch gave his son a penetrating stare, the sort of stare that humans give their canine slaves while holding a bowl of gruel.


 
_Penetrating_. I use that word. Probably too often. I like the relationship depicted here as well. Great start to character building. 



Rookish said:


> “Well now, you know those folks ask money for that kind of thing. I’ll be dead and buried before I pay for you to see some deviant bastards prancing about in face-paint while some wretched type of foreigner jumps through hoops and fondles lions,” he finally said, with his eyes still firmly pegged upon this other male within his territory. The look of disappointment on his son’s face was quickly replaced with one of obedient fear.



Great, now I envision fondling lions. Thank you. It's a warm and fuzzy idea. 



Rookish said:


> With his family commencing their feeding in silence, his dominance was established. Now he struck a match and lit the cheapest brand of cigarette that money could buy. With smoke swirling about the kitchen and over half-filled plates, his territory was clearly marked. This made his upper lip twitch slightly. For him, this minuscule movement was a smile.


 
Interesting. I can understand the ambiance. 


This whole story is interesting. It's 2 AM. I'm falling asleep. Thank you for sharing.


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## Rookish (Jun 20, 2016)

@PrinzeCharming: I am glad that you found the imagery interesting...
Quite new to building up and maintaining characters I am, so I appreciate you exhibiting the parts where I facilitated this process.

The bacon-chewing sentence has been split and is now a less clumsy creature, thanks for pointing it out.

The table sentence...honestly, I do not know whether to describe kitchens with or without tables.
I do like the way that sentence sounds in me head though, so there I sacrifice effective prose for subjective preference :watermelon:


Thank you for reading


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## eefraoula (Jun 24, 2016)

Hi  This was a fun read. I guess I'm reading the verson with the extended ending? Which is great, by the way.

I personally really liked your table sentence. I don't know how I would defend it if I had to, but I liked it, so there's that.

I enjoyed that this took place around the breakfast table especially since you were able to create a convincing foundation for all the relationships in this family. Makes me wonder what a scene of my family at breakfast would say about us. Oh, wait.. we don't eat breakfast..

Your use of metaphor was both humorous and appropriate. While sometimes a tad wordy, I tend to like wordy sentences and descriptions if they're done right so I approve. I think my favorite thing about this is that where the breakfast quite literally ends, you really didn't need to write more because the breakfast scene told me everything I needed to know - but I'm so glad you did add more because the rest was like a comedic encore of sorts.



> His wife's nerves were frazzled by the economic concerns of child-folk,  and by her husband, who by the laws of causality should have died in  some silly war, a war initiated solely for the pruning of such  psychopaths from the rank and file of polite society.



I liked this line a lot - just one example of how you were able to tell me something about the wife, the husband, and their relationship all in one hilarious sentence.

Overall, thumbs up. And one last question. Is the title for this 'Life' or do you have another title? 'Life' seems to simple and dry, not quite cheeky enough.  Thanks for sharing!


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## Rookish (Jun 25, 2016)

Hail eefraoula!

Thank you for reading, and enjoying, this tale ^.^

It is the one with the extended ending, with the original ending quoted in post #2 by Reichelina.

I was content with 'Life' as the title, it sort of expressed the general mishmash of mortal dealings, but after reading your question, I racked me neurons to find something else.

So far the most viable alternative I came up with is "_Breakfast Blues_"
It would be interesting to hear your thoughts on whether that is an improvement.

Once more, I thank you for reading.


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## eefraoula (Jun 26, 2016)

Hey Rookish!

"Breakfast Blues" seems appropriate but a little too appropriate - know what I mean? I don't have any golden title nuggets but I like the idea of it being a nod to circuses - a clever tie in to the themes of family, a tribe or troupe. Also because I particularly liked the clown bits.

After thinking for a bit, how about...

"The Ringmaster's Communion" or something like that - it might be a bit straightforward but I like the idea of the dad being the original ringmaster of a dysfunctional troupe of characters only for the son to run off and become an actual clown, though in the end, the members of the original act have all disbanded.


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