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I plan to post some of my fiction here on Fridays.  Since the fellas are going dove hunting in the morning, I thought I’d post a completely made up, fictional piece I wrote for the Bartleby Snopes All Dialogue Contest (http://www.bartlebysnopes.com/contests.htm).  It was fun to try and write dialogue without any attributions.  Why don’t you try and post as the reply?  The rules are on the link above.

Just About Midnight

By Joni Koehler

I can’t sleep.  I need to talk.

About what babe?

Just, you know, stuff.

Nothing in particular?

I need to hear another adult voice.  Why don’t you tell me a story?

Okay.  Once upon a time there was a man and he was out hunting and he sat silently in the woods for a long time and then he saw a deer and then he zeroed in on the deer and took a shot.

Tell a different one.

Don’t you want to know what happened?  To the hunter?

I’m not sympathetic to either character at this point.

The deer is not a character.  He’s just a deer.

Yes he is.  He’s a character.  He could even be the protagonist.  After all, no one is trying to kill the hunter.

What?

Just finish the story.

Alright.  The shot hit the deer, but the hunter’s trajectory was off a hare and he just got the flank.  The buck took off running into thick brush.

Trajectory?

Yeah, the scope needed a minor adjustment.

When you shoot a deer, where are you supposed to hit it?

In the forelock.

Huh?

That’s the front of the chest, near the neck.  The bullet usually enters the jugular or the heart, and the animal dies quickly.

So the aim is for the animal to die quickly.

No one wants to see the deer suffer.

This is really a story about you, isn’t it?

Yes, let me finish.  I have to work in the morning.

If you must.

So the hunter goes after the buck, and is pushing his way through the brush, checking for snakes as he goes.

Snakes?

Rattlesnakes that time of year.  And he comes to this clearing in the brush, and he sees the strangest thing.

Yeah?

Yes.  He sees two great big turtles in this clearing.  And they’re having sex, and it seems like they’re stuck, because they are just scrabbling around in a circle, kicking up dust.

That did not happen.

I swear.

When did this happen?

I was about sixteen.  Greg was with me.  He’ll tell you it’s true. We watched for like an hour and when we left, they were still going around in circles, stuck together like that.

Can we talk about our relationship now?

And then the hunter found the buck, and he carried it to the truck over his shoulders, and he brought it home to his family, who were grateful for the meat.  The end.

Are you trying to say I should be grateful because you work and “bring home the meat,” and all I do is stay home and take care of your needy little babies?

I am tired, and I need to get some sleep.  I love you, but I’m going to bed.

You suck. I’m still not sleepy. Are we stuck together, just like those turtles?

I wish.

Oh, so now you think I don’t give you enough sex?   Now, I get to feel guilty about that too?

Do you want me to go in the other room?

Would you?  I need the whole bed tonight.  I don’t want to keep you awake.  Tell me how much you love me.  In your own words.

I love you so much, there are no words.

That was pretty good.  I’ll write you a couple of scenes tomorrow so you can practice your rhetorical skills.

You are so full of it.  I’ll see you in the morning.

I might be sleeping in the morning, but wake me up.

I will do that.  Good night.

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