8th Excerpt From Ne'er Do Well

I have decided to share actual excerpts from Ne'er Do Well. I will no longer share full chapters. Here it is:

I also came across an auspicious find: A lighter, likely belonging to Steve. It had the print of a wondrously unclothed woman with an auspiciously endowed bust and a gracefully gifted rear. Only Steve would have had this beautifully hand-crafted accessory in his possession. Turning over the lighter and looking under the small machine yielded splendid results, and led me to discover the origins of this fine ware. ‘Made in China.’ it read. Amazing! Who could the famous artist in question be? Perhaps, he, in order to create more mystery and intrigue in the lives of the family members and others related to the owner, added this unascertained label, so that they could then furthermore search throughout the lands for the name of the beautiful craftsman. The explorations would likely keep the man’s spirit alive, even after death, as the groups ventured throughout this ‘China’ in search of his other crafted possessions and wares.

After reminiscing on the origins of this accessory, I decided it was time I use it for myself, that is, try it on a cigar of my own. It was rusted, but, not without fuel! I was, at the time, thirsty for a taste of smoke. As I pulled the golden brown delicacy to my face, I flicked the lighter, and out of nowhere, a large fire spewed from the nozzle, burning my brows. The darned thing! Some ass probably felt it jolly fun to ruin this fine piece of… China. I shall call it China until I discover its true origin. With cigar in hand, I continued onward. Might I remind you, that a cigar does wonders for the mind of man. It stimulates the brain to a great degree, to one which could not be achieved normally without a great amount of time spend studying in say, a library, for hours; a cigar, is a quick slip to high intelligence. It was while I was puffing this fine thing that I came upon a new hunch. Call it intuition. I felt the wind was guiding me northwest, which was further away from Ne’er Do Well and led deeper into the forests. I was satisfied.

Seventh Excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Seven

            Steve was hiding in an alleyway located deep within the Downtown area. He was freezing and was beginning to grow restless. Thoughts flew through his head; “Is he still following me?” “Has he given up?” Steve was not in any condition to carry himself home. The feeling he dwelled upon was of a simple matter: It stemmed from a small seed of hopelessness, slowly, but carefully watered until it eventually grew into the large stalk we saw now. This stalk would continue to grow, now, because it had already been nursed to size, and once one had allowed a weed to grow, it would not stop easily. Perhaps Steve merely needed to ‘cut’ this stalk down… But, alas, it would take some time to dispose of this one, for it may have already spread its own seeds, or perhaps even had invited its pleasant friends of jealousy and hatred…

            Presently, I shall bring us back to the home of Kresh McCore…

“Wake up woman. I’m hungry.”

Kresh lifted his heavy, heaving body from the bed and stomped his way to the kitchen. He opened his Steven’s Brand refrigerator door and removed his usual breakfast beverage: Milk. He poured his favorite thick, white substance carelessly in to the glass, spilling drops needlessly across the table. He did not care. What reason was there for a simpleton such as himself to mind such a simple matter as making a mess? His stalk was fully grown and it was much more than a simple weed; it was a disastrously tall tree, with vicious thorns and was unable to grow leaves of its own, owing to the dark exterior it fashioned. His tree was the type you found in the yards of those haunted houses. Of course, his tree must have surely been the one that had planted many others of its kind, such as the one which plagued our good hero, Steve.

            And once again, our terrible, deeply under confident villain made his way off for another day of failure, and most surely, another day of success in the form of individual expression. What type of expression you may ask? The type he offered to his wife. The man was an artist, and he painted a most beautiful canvas, incomparable to many of the best artifacts still present in Ne’er Do Well today. While the portrait might have been frightening to some, it actually incorporated many of the desirable traits found in our world today, such as the stability offered from conformity, the pressure relieved from the oh-so-simple act of violence and abuse, and most surely we could not forget the godly title he was so blessed to be brandished with: Enforcer. Yes, Kresh was probably the closest to the title of God… Or at least He felt so. And so did his peers! Ah Kresh, we, the readers wish you the most of luck on your journey to self awakening and happiness!

“Oh, there goes my hero! He’s off to change the world again!” his wife valiantly thought as she slowly wiped a false tear from her eye.

Now, finally, I will quench that ever-so-tantalizing desire you’ve had to witness the actions of our brave, but sorrowfully indifferent hero. I bring us to him now!

“What point is there?!”

Driven to the ends of pointless indifference again…

“I see no use in this constant cat and mice game! I’m done! It’s time for action!”

Yes! It seems our hero has used his anger as a conduit for action! Let us take hold of our buttery snacks and let us clench our children closely in our arms, for Steve has taken action (For the first time in, well, almost ever)!

Steve knew that he needed to take action, and that he required a solution, so, he returned to headquarters. And, I say, if the logic is fine and all that, that at that time, Steve could’ve used a good book. And, he found just that when he arrived. A grand title, “The Forgotten History of Bloated Bovines by Mark Taylor”! In the third chapter he licked a tantalizing historic record of utter sizes over the course of the past thirty years, and came across a CD titled “Recording, 320 KB/s, Compact Disk, ‘The Mating Sounds of a Distressed, Enlarged Bovine’”

Eyes widened, he quickened his pace as he made his way to the nearby audio listening lounge. He sat, and inserted the divine disc into its proper place. As it spun, he heard the blessed sounds travel softly through his eardrums, and as the noises grew louder, his eyes grew in proportion; finally the noise climaxed and softly lowered to a sweet timely finish. At this exact moment, Steve had experienced a divine, irreplaceable gift that perhaps none of the occupants of this building could have received.

“Oh, I see. You get a kick from cow porn, huh?”

Wait. Steve recognized that voice. But how? How did she get here?

Steve inched his head slowly around the bend until he caught sight of the beautiful wench he knew from the library.

“Why, hello there! How did you get here?”

The new librarian laughed.

“I work here now. You’ve inspired me. Now, I’m going to be shuffling books with the gods!”

“Ha! Just because we are trying to change the world doesn’t make us gods.”

“Either way, I have to return to the front desk. Goodbye, Steve.”

She was doing it again; playing with that damn toy.

“Phew.” Steve was relieved.

“Wow. I never would have thought YOU would be one of the ones who took an active interest in bovine sexuality. Heh, I guess each his own, I suppose.”

“Aw come on, you know I found it by accident.”

“No, you didn’t Steve. I’ve read it. It’s the picture book with the fat cows… and those... enlarged utters.”

“It’s not what you think! I grabbed the book by chance! You know, figured I’d play the chance card today!”

“You and I both know that you only read books that interest you.”

“Ah, well, fine Jerry.”

“So, I hear you had a run-in with Kresh. Quite a brute he is, huh?

“You’re tellin’ me. The guy just as surely would have ripped my face off. Did you see what he did to that car? He’s a maniac.”

“No. He’s just plagued with a disease I call ‘Enforcers Syndrome’. Quite common really.”

“Well this ‘Enforcers Syndrome’ is deadly.”

“Yes, yes. It is.”

Jerry led Steve to the camera room, where he once more caught sight of the various cameras spread about Ne’er Do Well. Contrary to what may have originally been assumed by some of my many diverse readers, the cameras belonged to the Headmaster. They had hacked them and now used them for their own purposes.

“So here we have Kresh, and as you can see, he is at your house.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait. Wait a minute! There’s a camera in my house?!”

“Six actually. One in the kitchen, one in the bedroom, one in the living room, one in the yard, one in the shower, and one in the toilet.”

“Why the toilet?”

“Not sure. We think he puts it there to monitor the health of the citizens.”

“Creepy.”

“Yep.”

“So, anyways, what we’re going to have to do is head back to get a few things.”

“Why? I don’t need anything.”

“The tracker. I think it’s still in a pair of your pants.”

“Should we wait for him to leave?”

“No. Kresh will be there all night. Look. He even brought his battering ram.”

“You mean his wife?”

“Yeah.”

“Ahh. I was wondering how he got in to my room. Had that thing locked up real good.”

           

            And so our bold heroes prepared for battle. But could they defeat the giant enforcer Kresh McCore?

A sixth excerpt from Ne'er Do Well

Chapter Six

            He ran. He ran until he had finally arrived. Home. He put his corroded copper key into the deadbolt lock, turned the knob, and entered. A thick, strong smell filled his nostrils. Mold. His living room was cluttered with a thin layer of clothing, magazines, and trash. Had someone been there before him? No, his house was always a mess. Indeed, Steve was in deep need of a visit to the land of solitude, the impenetrable world, the world where none of the struggles of the universe could seep in. Steve went to his bedroom.

            He laid himself down, taking in the light blue, flaky walls, the sun’s golden sheath, and the incomparably gorgeous clothing closet. To him, it did not matter where, as long as silence permeated the air. Not surprisingly, he was thinking about an interesting theory. He dreamt of a simple world, where all moved at their own will, and all dreams were reached. Alas, for Steve this world was unattainable. Even for people like you and I, the truth of this philosophy is painful to endure…

            And as Steve sat in his comfortable bed, the mysterious, smiling man searched. Presently, I will take us to him.

“In only a moment… Just a moment…” He grinned

His steps were steady yet quick, like the speed of the workers in Ne’er Do Well. With each step, his smile grew larger, and he knew. He knew exactly what he was searching for and he was well aware of its location. He came upon Steve’s street, a rundown trailer park, complete with your average every day rusted vehicle. The man was stunningly strong, his fists pounding into a nearby rusty car; his strong, grey eyes displaying his commitment to his cause. His pace quickened, only one trailer away. As he finally reached Steve’s yard, he took at breath through his nose, as if he could smell his target. He knocked.

“Come on out, Steve.”

No response.

“Damn it, Steve. You know I like games, but you and I have been playing this game for much too long.”

His arm tensed. He grabbed the door by its sides and tore. The living room was exposed.

“Please pardon my rudeness.”

His manners were still programmed to work even in these kind of situations. He made his way to Steve’s room, aiming for the kill. He bashed open the door. And found…

Nothing.

“NOTHING?!”

            Steve was gasping for air. Despite his readings which suggested healthy food and exercise daily, he ignored them; the effect was felt. He was almost there. The secret entrance. But, how would he be sure the man wouldn’t follow him? No, he was sure the security doors would stop him. Or, would they? The man had torn off Steve’s door. These steel panels were most surely not going to stop him. Steve came to the crossroads; should he worry for himself and enter the headquarters or should he worry for the welfare of the association’s members? He chose the former. He ran further, past the hidden entrance…

            I bring us back to our villain, Kresh McCore, entering his home. An apartment located in deep downtown Ne’er Do Well; beautifully kept, by his one and only dear wife: Isabell McCore.

“Home again.”

“Welcome home, dearest.”

Isabell’s arms were covered in scratches, both old and new, a face emblazoned with romantic red scabs and sunset-purple bruises. Her explanation to her coworkers? A fall down the stairs here, an accident while cooking there, or perhaps a fall from the bed. They were simple accidents, which were in fact, experienced by many women in Ne’er Do Well. So, the explanation was acceptable.

“Honey, do you see this?”

“Umm, yes, dear, I do. It’s the floor.”

“Don’t get smart.”

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled, until allowing her small, young head to plummet towards the ground. The impact was felt, and rose tainted petals fell from her nose.

“Look at the mess you made. Heh… You thought you were finished. My darling, you have to do much better than that.”

And as she coughed lovely, rosy petals once more, she exhaled

“Yes.”

            He was finished. Justice had been served. Karma has a funny way of working, he must’ve thought. Near the bedroom door sat a precious, golden retriever; man’s best friend. Kresh McCore respected his dog almost as much as he respected his wife. Because of this, he expressed his love with several ‘check-ups’; A simple examination to confirm existence. A simple thrust of the foot, with a brown leather boot for extra special accuracy and an assured response. A loud cry of confirmed life filled the house instantly. He was satisfied, his wife had been ‘gently’ reminded of her mess-ups and his dog had shown his master that his was still filled with everlasting vitality. It had to be; else he would not have been alive for 8 years thus far. Kresh’s last dog lasted only a few days… ‘Lacked vitality’, he would exclaim.

            It was off to bed, with yet another day of failure. He was feeling much better now that he knew his fellow housemates were there alongside him. His wife in bed; His dog at his feet. He was ready to close his eyes to a day unrealized. He would be ready to open his eyes again in the morning. Another day another dream, he always thought.