>>29893222

He lived alone, without an heir to the Demmans name, in a single bedroom apartment. Of course, he had his beloved feline Manfred to accompany him. She provided a sense of belonging and comfort that no human being could provide Daryl. He could never fit in with others, he was the black sheep in whichever social circle he found himself in. He wasn't exactly hostile or confrontational, or a deviant or other sort of freak... just different. A social outcast, not that he didn't mind. He was content and moderately happy, and that's all that mattered to him. Recently though, his dear domicile was plagued with a spat of misfortunes (or so other people called them "misfortunes) - a bed bug infestation, maggot infestation, rat infestation. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it may be time to finally throw out that yogurt container from last Christmas. Didn't that milk expire in February? It's July now. It's hard to depart with such dear momentos from the past, Daryl knew this feeling dearly. In his apartment one could find an unorganized collection of newspapers stretching back to three years ago, milk containers with milk still in them from half a year ago, cheese left underneath the couch from God knows when. Could that be a cause of all those pests in his house? Probably, but those critters were simply more companionship for Daryl's lonely soul, seemingly convicted to an eternity of solitude. He preferred the maggots, rats, worms and other such little, well-meaning creatures to humans, with all of their silly social conventions. He knew he needed to clean though, otherwise the landlord, Ms. Hatherley, would start to threaten him with eviction. Old cunt, Daryl thought. One day, I'll show her. I'll show them all. A large impediment to having his household in good order was the lack of a working fridge. His hadn't worked in years, but he was indifferent.

>>>(CONT)

>>29893255
He was only doing it so the cunt wouldn't evict him from his home. So today's journey was to the hardware store, to purchase a cheap, yet functional fridge. Functionality was key to Daryl.
Sweat dripped from his temples onto the frame of his glasses. He loathed the glasses, since they made his eyes look grotesquely magnified, but he knew he needed them to drive. Otherwise, they resided on the floor somewhere. He wasn't particular about organization. Individual droplets of sweat flowed down his rosy, pock-marked cheeks onto his bloated, clean-shaven chin and neck (the two came into unison with one another, as is seen in obese men of his age). He wiped his neck with the back of his left hand every five seconds or so. Daryl decided to call ahead to the hardware store, John's Hardware Supply. He fumbled about, attempting to wrestle his cellphone from his deep pocket, slightly swerving as he maintained a modest 50 km/h on the one-lane road residential road that took him from his apartment building on the southside of the town to downtown, on the central-north side, where John's Hardware Supply was located. It was a medium-sized town, with a population of about 35,000. It had a rich history, being the largest trading post in North Dakota for a while. Of course, it hadn't maintained such a position of greatness, but many of the small rural centres of the American West and Midwest shared similar stories of former greatness, but modern quaintness. Finally, Daryl got a definite grip on his rather antiquated Motorola RAZR flip-phone. He struggled to flip it open with his index finger as he kept it stable with his other three fingers and thumb, while trying to keep a steady grip on his driving. Driving already presented itself as a difficult challenge to surmount, since he was horribly far-sighted, let alone trying to drive while attempting to phone a hardware store. He finally found the name "JOHN'S HW" in his contacts' list, and pressed dial.

>>>(CONT)

More substance, less poetry.

Be more careful about your word choices. Some things don't quite fit. "With dread", for example, isn't typically used that way.

You have a good sense of the lyrical, but you're overdoing it a tad. Reign things in and be more substantive. Resist the urge to be flowery to take up space.

>>29893301
As the number rang he pressed the phone between his shoulder and left ear, tilting his head to the left to hold in the phone in the awkward position.
"John's hardware."
"Uh, yes, hello,", Daryl nervously eeked out, "m-my name is ummmm Duh-Daryl Demmans, I am com-muh-ing to pur-purchase a refrigerator.". He spoke like a child sounding out words he encountered in a phonetic workbook, speaking slowly, putting emphasis on the individual syllables, stretching out long words (pronouncing refrigerator as reef-ridg-er-ayt-er). Stuttering was an issue that has been an issue for him since he was a young boy.
"Alright,", the salesman said. Daryl swore he could hear a hint of a chuckle. His eye twitched instinctively. "What sort of refrigerator? We have plenty of brands, Samsung, LG, and so on and so forth."
"Well, I was th-thinking perhaps, perhaps I was thinking,", Daryl took a pause, as he often did when speaking, "Perhaps maybe, maybe, just the cheapest one you g-got."
"There's older models, usually ones that didn't sell, or are used. We pick them up from foreclosures and stuff... If you want, you can come down, we close at six today and right now it's..", the salesman paused, to glance at his watch, "only two thirty."
"You know, I'll be there soon enough. Enough. I remember muh-muh-my fuh-fuh-fuh-father once had a refrigerator. He put all sorts of meat in there. Then, my puh-pal Thomas Leipzig seh-said, 'Wuh-one day, your duh-dad will ch-chop yer cock off an-an-and put it in that there fruh-free-freezer.'", Daryl said with a tone of ready enthusiasm. He gave a raucous laugh at the end of his story.
"Right...", the salesman said with a drawn-out, bewildered voice, "listen, come down, I'll show you a fridge or two."
Click.
Just like that, the salesman hung up. Daryl shrugged, and his eyelid fluttered with yet another twitch. He knew that he often left a disturbed impression on people.

>>>(CONT)

>>29893343
He noted the chili incident at work, or the German comments, the endless conversations with passerby. He knew these rubbed people the wrong way, but it was almost as if he couldn't help himself. His personality - that so often perturbed everyone he met - was almost as involuntary as the action of breathing or the fact that his heart was constantly beating, without any obvious conscious knowledge or consent of the working of these things. It was almost as if his personality was intertwined with his peripheral nervous system, the part of the body that performed the functions that we don't even think about (the heart beating, etc.). The time he freaked everyone out in the staff break room was the first time he really noticed that something was "out-of-order" with the way his mind worked. Of course, it was something that he grappled with since childhood, however, his mother always said, "Don't you ever worry,", after a rough day of teasing from his classmates, as she would affectionately rub his forehead with the back of her hand, sitting on the edge of his twin bed, her sympathetic brown eyes hurting so much for her poor son, "you're my son and I love you. No amount of nothin' in this world will ever change that." After the freak-out in the staff room, he knew that he could no longer continue with these antics so... openly. However, he couldn't help himself. Working as a janitor at a high school proved to be problematic in relation to his idiosyncrasies. When it came to working around minors, who had a rather sensitive legal status, every single action that was out of the ordinary

--------

I haven't gotten any further than this. I apologize for any issues with paragraphs etc in the format it was posted here, I just copied and pasted.

>>29893315
That was one of my concerns. My high school English teachers always told me I was far too "wordy", but I still usually got the highest marks in my English AP classes..

>>29893390
Yeah, you write similarly to how I did. That is my criticism. Dial it back and write with more substance, or you'll be one of those dime-a-five-hundred English majors who sniff their own sweet farts and giggle at their preciousness.

>>29893441
I'm not an English major. I'm doing a BSc right now, with a major in biology and a minor in chemistry. Writing is just a summertime hobby for me.

>>29893519
Oh, then nothing I said matters. Continue to write like you do.

>>29893525
Thanks. I suppose it isn't bad for purely amateur writing. I just like to write stories about the rather fucked up fantasies I have about certain people I meet, for example, I met a high school janitor who was very... schizoid. I imagined him going out an killing people, and decided to write about it over the summer. I wouldn't publish, but it's definitely nice to be able to say that I wrote a novel.

>>29893558
I was being sarcastic. What you wrote has potential. You have a solid vocabulary and sense of the lyrical, which is pretty much impossible to teach. If you want to improve, what I said is my suggestion.

>>29893594
Yes. I will definitely take that advice. Thanks a lot!