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A Decent Joke
Rhett stroked the stubble where his beard used to be. He pulled the blinds up to let in the setting Arizona sun.
With the daytime heat melting away, Rhett unlatched the window and pushed it out, welcoming in the cool evening breeze to the cramped little bedroom. The sun's lush yellow core painted both the dull sky and the dull sand a warm orange.
He turned around to face the bed. Jackie sat upright, the deep red wound on her leg standing out against her faded white sheets and nightgown. The tips of her fraying blonde hair lay upon her crossed arms. Her eyes followed Rhett as he stepped back from the window and shuffled over to the tattered green armchair in the corner.
Once seated, he leaned his head back and rolled up his sleeves. He folded his arms to mirror his wife. “So?”
Jackie folded her arms the other way. “So what?”
“You gonna let me take you to a doctor or what?”
Jackie reached for the water pitcher on the night stand next to her. “Not today, dearest honey-bun,” she said in a high mocking tone. She poured some water on her hand and let it drip onto the gash on her leg.
Rhett frowned. “I’m not jokin’ around, Jack. I think you need a doctor.”
“And I think we can’t afford that.” Jackie flicked the remaining water in her hand onto the wound and set the pitcher down. “Besides, I’m doing just fine. As my mother always said, time heals moist wounds.”
“Your upbringin’ must’ve been awful strange, I tell you.” Rhett stood up. “Fine. But if we’re stayin’ here, we’re gonna do it right.” He picked up the small jar next to the water pitcher and held it out to Jackie. “You’ve got the wrong sayin' in mind. It’s ‘thyme heals most wounds’. Here, take it already.”
Jackie grabbed the jar and threw it at the green armchair. “I’m not taking your crockpot home remedies either.” She folded her arms again and huffed. “You know, I wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for your rambunctious dogs.”
“Hey now, Time’s got a heart o’ gold, but I warned you about Most, I really did. Most isn't trained as well as Time.” Rhett licked his lips. “I said it once, I said it a thousand times; Time heels, Most wounds.”
Jackie leaned her head back against the headboard, closing her eyes and furrowing her eyebrows.
It was then that Rhett noticed the sweat on her forehead and the redness in her face. He unrolled his shirt sleeve and used it to pat her forehead, then held her hand in his own.
Jackie rolled her head away from Rhett’s sleeve, looking down at her leg. “Well, Rhett? Was it worth it?”
Rhett held Jackie’s hand with both of his. “What do you mean? Our marriage? Our life together? Of course it was, darlin’, of course.”
Jackie tightened her jaw, her eyes locked on her wound. “No, was it worth digging the thyme out of the back corner of our spice cabinet? Eight years ago, naming your dogs Time and Most so you could make that joke? So you could mock me on my deathbed like this?” She rolled her head towards his, narrowing her eyes. “Was it really all that clever, Rhett? Was it so smart?”
Rhett shrugged. “Did you laugh?”
Jackie lay back in the bed, folding her arms again. She coughed. “What do you think?”
Rhett reached out and gently unfolded his wife’s arms, laying them flat against the sheets. “How long'll we keep answering each other’s questions with more questions?”
For the first time that evening, Jackie cracked a grin. “See, that one's not half bad, partly because it was itself a question.” She blinked, though slowly. Her breathing slowed as more sweat beaded on her forehead. “You should tell more jokes like that one.” Her head rolled down to lay on her shoulder, her neck too weak to carry it.
Rhett caught her head and held it up. “Jackie? Are you okay?”
“Promise me you will, Rhett,” she said, her voice quivering. “Promise me you’ll tell better jokes.”
Rhett nodded, holding on to Jackie, stroking her cheek. “Sure, Jack, 'course I can. I’ll tell better jokes. I swear I will.”
“Thank you,” Jackie said, her eyes glossy with tears. “Thank you, Rhett.”
Rhett nodded, gripping her hand. The sun fully set behind Rhett, the sky and sand fading to blue.
With the daytime heat melting away, Rhett unlatched the window and pushed it out, welcoming in the cool evening breeze to the cramped little bedroom. The sun's lush yellow core painted both the dull sky and the dull sand a warm orange.
He turned around to face the bed. Jackie sat upright, the deep red wound on her leg standing out against her faded white sheets and nightgown. The tips of her fraying blonde hair lay upon her crossed arms. Her eyes followed Rhett as he stepped back from the window and shuffled over to the tattered green armchair in the corner.
Once seated, he leaned his head back and rolled up his sleeves. He folded his arms to mirror his wife. “So?”
Jackie folded her arms the other way. “So what?”
“You gonna let me take you to a doctor or what?”
Jackie reached for the water pitcher on the night stand next to her. “Not today, dearest honey-bun,” she said in a high mocking tone. She poured some water on her hand and let it drip onto the gash on her leg.
Rhett frowned. “I’m not jokin’ around, Jack. I think you need a doctor.”
“And I think we can’t afford that.” Jackie flicked the remaining water in her hand onto the wound and set the pitcher down. “Besides, I’m doing just fine. As my mother always said, time heals moist wounds.”
“Your upbringin’ must’ve been awful strange, I tell you.” Rhett stood up. “Fine. But if we’re stayin’ here, we’re gonna do it right.” He picked up the small jar next to the water pitcher and held it out to Jackie. “You’ve got the wrong sayin' in mind. It’s ‘thyme heals most wounds’. Here, take it already.”
Jackie grabbed the jar and threw it at the green armchair. “I’m not taking your crockpot home remedies either.” She folded her arms again and huffed. “You know, I wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for your rambunctious dogs.”
“Hey now, Time’s got a heart o’ gold, but I warned you about Most, I really did. Most isn't trained as well as Time.” Rhett licked his lips. “I said it once, I said it a thousand times; Time heels, Most wounds.”
Jackie leaned her head back against the headboard, closing her eyes and furrowing her eyebrows.
It was then that Rhett noticed the sweat on her forehead and the redness in her face. He unrolled his shirt sleeve and used it to pat her forehead, then held her hand in his own.
Jackie rolled her head away from Rhett’s sleeve, looking down at her leg. “Well, Rhett? Was it worth it?”
Rhett held Jackie’s hand with both of his. “What do you mean? Our marriage? Our life together? Of course it was, darlin’, of course.”
Jackie tightened her jaw, her eyes locked on her wound. “No, was it worth digging the thyme out of the back corner of our spice cabinet? Eight years ago, naming your dogs Time and Most so you could make that joke? So you could mock me on my deathbed like this?” She rolled her head towards his, narrowing her eyes. “Was it really all that clever, Rhett? Was it so smart?”
Rhett shrugged. “Did you laugh?”
Jackie lay back in the bed, folding her arms again. She coughed. “What do you think?”
Rhett reached out and gently unfolded his wife’s arms, laying them flat against the sheets. “How long'll we keep answering each other’s questions with more questions?”
For the first time that evening, Jackie cracked a grin. “See, that one's not half bad, partly because it was itself a question.” She blinked, though slowly. Her breathing slowed as more sweat beaded on her forehead. “You should tell more jokes like that one.” Her head rolled down to lay on her shoulder, her neck too weak to carry it.
Rhett caught her head and held it up. “Jackie? Are you okay?”
“Promise me you will, Rhett,” she said, her voice quivering. “Promise me you’ll tell better jokes.”
Rhett nodded, holding on to Jackie, stroking her cheek. “Sure, Jack, 'course I can. I’ll tell better jokes. I swear I will.”
“Thank you,” Jackie said, her eyes glossy with tears. “Thank you, Rhett.”
Rhett nodded, gripping her hand. The sun fully set behind Rhett, the sky and sand fading to blue.
Jackie behaves unrealistically for someone with a deep gash, showing no signs or description of pain or bleeding, and even less so for somepony on her deathbed. Then the story becomes a ridiculous series of feghoots, and then you throw a lampshade on the story itself, and now we're suddenly balls-deep in straight-silly humor like Police Squad.
There are several problems with this approach. The transition from serious to silly is much too abrupt and severe. You should have added some silliness or at least a dialogue pun before subjecting us to the terrible feghoots. Think about how Police Squad actually works, which does this breed of humor properly: it doesn't alternately hide the humor with drama then "surprise" the viewer by switching gears. Here, the approach is annoying rather than amusing.
Also, many elements of the story could use more support, even if you're being silly. Her death isn't supported by the rest of the descriptions in the story, for one, and you need some degree of logical entailment or else the story becomes a random jumble of "nothing matters because anything can happen for no reason". Even if you're being silly, basic concepts like "motivation" and "caring about the characters" and "immersion" still apply to the story. You can still use foreshadowing and explain things without relying on hammerspace and flashbacks.
I don't get the ending at all. The jokes stop at "grin", and the rest of the story plods at a completely different pace (it's like we're back to the straight-faced opening). Is Rhett intended to be an allusion to Gone With the Wind? Are you trying to confuse the reader by switching wildly between dramatic and funny? I think you were trying to tune the silliness back down to mid-range, but the pacing doesn't work and I'm left feeling like there must be references or puns I'm missing at the end.
There are several problems with this approach. The transition from serious to silly is much too abrupt and severe. You should have added some silliness or at least a dialogue pun before subjecting us to the terrible feghoots. Think about how Police Squad actually works, which does this breed of humor properly: it doesn't alternately hide the humor with drama then "surprise" the viewer by switching gears. Here, the approach is annoying rather than amusing.
Also, many elements of the story could use more support, even if you're being silly. Her death isn't supported by the rest of the descriptions in the story, for one, and you need some degree of logical entailment or else the story becomes a random jumble of "nothing matters because anything can happen for no reason". Even if you're being silly, basic concepts like "motivation" and "caring about the characters" and "immersion" still apply to the story. You can still use foreshadowing and explain things without relying on hammerspace and flashbacks.
I don't get the ending at all. The jokes stop at "grin", and the rest of the story plods at a completely different pace (it's like we're back to the straight-faced opening). Is Rhett intended to be an allusion to Gone With the Wind? Are you trying to confuse the reader by switching wildly between dramatic and funny? I think you were trying to tune the silliness back down to mid-range, but the pacing doesn't work and I'm left feeling like there must be references or puns I'm missing at the end.
I'm having a hard time reviewing this one. It starts out serious, but then becomes progressively more and more absurd.
I enjoyed some of the jokes but at the end when she's dying, despite the story obviously not being serious, I have a hard time finding humor in the subject. To be honest, I don't see how the jokes require her dying to be funny. It might have required more work, but a scene where the husband and wife were teasing each other in the hospital could have preserved most of the humor, without having such a mood dissonance.
Tone quibbles aside, the writing was solid. You set the scene quickly and the descriptions were vivid. Despite the content, the dialog also flowed well. You've obviously got skill, I mostly have the feeling that this prompt didn't agree with you.
I enjoyed some of the jokes but at the end when she's dying, despite the story obviously not being serious, I have a hard time finding humor in the subject. To be honest, I don't see how the jokes require her dying to be funny. It might have required more work, but a scene where the husband and wife were teasing each other in the hospital could have preserved most of the humor, without having such a mood dissonance.
Tone quibbles aside, the writing was solid. You set the scene quickly and the descriptions were vivid. Despite the content, the dialog also flowed well. You've obviously got skill, I mostly have the feeling that this prompt didn't agree with you.
God, sir or ma'am. Those puns.
Your funny bits are funny, and your pathos bits are pathos-y, but much like steak and custard, I'm not sure they mix well even if they're each done capably.
(I did once have an excellent bacon milkshake. This should not detract in the least from my metaphor.)
Spelling, grammar, flow, and language are all good, though (I particularly liked the bit where Jackie re-folds her arms just to not mirror her husband; that's some good subliminal spite there), and with that, this feels like a quick experiment by a capable author to a tight deadline; much, in fact, like a chef mixing steak and custard in his off-time just to see if it works.
Your funny bits are funny, and your pathos bits are pathos-y, but much like steak and custard, I'm not sure they mix well even if they're each done capably.
(I did once have an excellent bacon milkshake. This should not detract in the least from my metaphor.)
Spelling, grammar, flow, and language are all good, though (I particularly liked the bit where Jackie re-folds her arms just to not mirror her husband; that's some good subliminal spite there), and with that, this feels like a quick experiment by a capable author to a tight deadline; much, in fact, like a chef mixing steak and custard in his off-time just to see if it works.
I agree with my fellow readers on this. All fun with puns aside (I've never been one to groan at them, why pass up a chance to smile?), there are tonal misalignments here, and some logic gaps. For instance, Rhett relenting on getting a doctor makes sense, until we learn she's dying (unless that's a joke too? Or she's not really dying but they're pretending she is).
Anyway clean up shouldn't be too difficult, and I did enjoy the dog's names. Terrible to some, clever to others, that's how puns always go.
Anyway clean up shouldn't be too difficult, and I did enjoy the dog's names. Terrible to some, clever to others, that's how puns always go.
I'm pretty sure that these puns occurred to me while I was brainstorming ideas, but I couldn't think of any good good ways to use them. So congratulations on out feghooting me, author.
I think that the initial switch from seriousness to comedy is fine, and works because it makes that first pun more unexpected. But the switch back to seriousness doesn't work as well. Once you've established that your story is a comedy, readers expect it to stay that way. I was expecting the story to end on a joke that was even better than the ones that came before it, but instead you just tossed all the comedy aside for some reason.
I think that the initial switch from seriousness to comedy is fine, and works because it makes that first pun more unexpected. But the switch back to seriousness doesn't work as well. Once you've established that your story is a comedy, readers expect it to stay that way. I was expecting the story to end on a joke that was even better than the ones that came before it, but instead you just tossed all the comedy aside for some reason.
Congratulations to the finalists! :D
~ ~ ~
A Decent Joke
So. Here’s a post-mortem.
This was a pretentious little experiment done on a short amount of time (because the contest times changed from noon my time to 6:00am, I guess? So I was in a bit of a panic).
This is supposed to be my super hilarious satire on feghoots. I don’t like feghoots. From a reader’s perspective, they’re clever and fun, but from my perspective (as a writer), they’re not all that clever. Once you come up with a decent pun-chline, it’s not all that hard to come up with the story that comes before it. So the structure you saw was the idea—it starts out innocently enough, then come a barrage of contrived feghoots, then a semi-meta commentary on feghoots, and then kind of a depressing ending.
In my head, the last part was comedic. I thought it would be pretty ridiculous (i.e. funny) for Jackie’s dying wish to be that her husband tell better jokes. But I guess that could’ve used some work >.>
The story’s message is summed up in this exchange here:
Personally, I don’t think feghoots are all that funny, but hey, if they make people laugh, then who am I to knock ‘em.
>>Ratlab
>>The_Letter_J
I came up with two possible endings for this story. It originally had a happier ending, what I called “the Disney ending”, but at the last minute, I opted for the darker ending, since I thought it’d be funny for Jackie’s dying wish to be that her husband tell better jokes. Apparently I botched the execution of that one >.> I guess I could’ve made it more overdramatic to make it funnier. Probably could’ve played to the absurdity a little bit more. Ah well. Next time. ^^
>>Trick_Question
See above for my reasoning for the ending.
It’s somewhat hard to “Think about how Police Squad actually works” when I’ve never seen Police Squad >.> I might give it a watch later, sure, but I just thought that was presumptive.
I’m not sure if I agree with you on the switch from serious to silly. I think what I’m learning in writing comedy is that people sometimes need jokes to serve as sort of “comedy cues”—indicators that what they’re reading is silly and not meant to be taken too seriously. The problem is, with how short the story had to be, the feghoots might come as less of a surprise if the first part wasn’t serious. Perhaps some light comedy would’ve been a good indicator, but it might’ve undermined the seriousness of a wound like Jackie’s… Hmm. I’ll have to think about this one.
You make a good point on the unrealistic-ness of Jackie’s wound. Her lack of anguish at such a deep gash is my fault. To be able to keep that, I could’ve made a joke out of that, probably, looking back on it, or made the wound less severe. The sudden oncoming of her death is also my fault. After switching to the darker ending, I forgot to change the rest.
>>MonarchDodora
Yeah, that’s it in a nutshell. :P The experiment and the tight deadline parts, I mean.
~ ~ ~
A Decent Joke
So. Here’s a post-mortem.
This was a pretentious little experiment done on a short amount of time (because the contest times changed from noon my time to 6:00am, I guess? So I was in a bit of a panic).
This is supposed to be my super hilarious satire on feghoots. I don’t like feghoots. From a reader’s perspective, they’re clever and fun, but from my perspective (as a writer), they’re not all that clever. Once you come up with a decent pun-chline, it’s not all that hard to come up with the story that comes before it. So the structure you saw was the idea—it starts out innocently enough, then come a barrage of contrived feghoots, then a semi-meta commentary on feghoots, and then kind of a depressing ending.
In my head, the last part was comedic. I thought it would be pretty ridiculous (i.e. funny) for Jackie’s dying wish to be that her husband tell better jokes. But I guess that could’ve used some work >.>
The story’s message is summed up in this exchange here:
“Was it really all that clever, Rhett? Was it so smart?”
Rhett shrugged. “Did you laugh?”
Personally, I don’t think feghoots are all that funny, but hey, if they make people laugh, then who am I to knock ‘em.
>>Ratlab
>>The_Letter_J
I came up with two possible endings for this story. It originally had a happier ending, what I called “the Disney ending”, but at the last minute, I opted for the darker ending, since I thought it’d be funny for Jackie’s dying wish to be that her husband tell better jokes. Apparently I botched the execution of that one >.> I guess I could’ve made it more overdramatic to make it funnier. Probably could’ve played to the absurdity a little bit more. Ah well. Next time. ^^
>>Trick_Question
See above for my reasoning for the ending.
It’s somewhat hard to “Think about how Police Squad actually works” when I’ve never seen Police Squad >.> I might give it a watch later, sure, but I just thought that was presumptive.
I’m not sure if I agree with you on the switch from serious to silly. I think what I’m learning in writing comedy is that people sometimes need jokes to serve as sort of “comedy cues”—indicators that what they’re reading is silly and not meant to be taken too seriously. The problem is, with how short the story had to be, the feghoots might come as less of a surprise if the first part wasn’t serious. Perhaps some light comedy would’ve been a good indicator, but it might’ve undermined the seriousness of a wound like Jackie’s… Hmm. I’ll have to think about this one.
You make a good point on the unrealistic-ness of Jackie’s wound. Her lack of anguish at such a deep gash is my fault. To be able to keep that, I could’ve made a joke out of that, probably, looking back on it, or made the wound less severe. The sudden oncoming of her death is also my fault. After switching to the darker ending, I forgot to change the rest.
>>MonarchDodora
this feels like a quick experiment by a capable author to a tight deadline
Yeah, that’s it in a nutshell. :P The experiment and the tight deadline parts, I mean.