Joined: Jul 2013
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shit my uncle tom-tom writes
My uncle Tom lives in Finland, and he's a bit off his fucking rocker, if I were to put it lightly. He was always an odd job doer, but I would never have guessed he'd start writing. Well, he wrote the original of this draft in Finnish, then translated it into Estonian and sent it to me to translate into English. s'pose he intended to have it in english from the start, seeing as he used anglo names. Not sure how he even got my e-mail, but what's done is done. Only reason im doing this is because I know he'll manage to reward me...... somehow. always has so far.
He also asked me to review it and criticize this thing. I posted my translation here, because its supposed to have this "Catcher in the Rye"-esque shit going on and I suppose its anti-skewl as well.
Basically, I want you to read it and review it, the translation and the story.
DISCLAIMER: The shit that's underlined is subject to change
Quote:The number on the dark red door said 17.
She struck the key into the lock in a machine-like fashion, in the manner of someone who has done this many times before. It was obvious, as to why. She lived here.
Weeks ago I wouldn't have dreamt of entering someone else's home. To be honest, weeks ago, I wouldn't have imagined talking to someone other than my parents, either.
I don't talk much.
My parents are worried about this because they think I might turn out weird. "Not normal," as they would say. My brother doesn't seem to mind, though. His name is Mark and we used to have a lot of fun when I was little
But Dad tells me that my brother is a 'deadbeat', when mum's not around, and that I shouldn't spend time with him. (I wanted to argue, but I know better.) They don't want me to turn out like him. I'm constantly told to focus on my studies, yet expected to have a healthy social life.
A lot/Much is expected of me.
I used to have a sister too, but I don't remember much of her. I tried asking my parents about her once, but mum started crying and dad ordered me to go to my room. (Haven't dared to ask since.)
Anyway, this one time after school, I went to the park as I always do.
I enjoy going to the park, even if it is full of annoying insects and people from all manner of suspect backgrounds. It had a reputation of being a place for drunkards and the homeless.
Admittedly, I often have trouble making the distinction between the two.
The sky was clear, bright blue and quite sunny, but I would have preferred it to be overcast. This didn't bother me much, however, it was shadowy under the towering trees anyway.
Having found the bench, where I usually sit, I opened my rucksack and pulled out a couple of books and a yellow lunch-box.
This small Spongebob Squarepants-themed container was a relic from kindergarten. Dad wanted to throw it away once, but I protested so much he allowed me to keep it. I understood why he'd wanted to do it: there were obvious signs of 'wear and tear', which weren't helped by my former classmates from Primary. Or Purgatory, as I liked to call it. I guess I kept it because it reminded me of a happier time. When Dad didn't gamble and Mum didn't drink, and my sister was still here.
It wasn't like I used it all the time, either.
Quite the opposite, in fact, I don't really like to eat.
This one time I had to go to the hospital because I'd been neglecting my meals and got really ill, but that's a story for a different day.
Inside this beaten-up lunch-box was an uneaten sandwich. Mum always takes time out of her morning to make me a sandwich. I appreciate it, so I try real hard to come back home with an empty lunch-box.
Between two pieces of buttered white bread there was a slice of ham with cheese on top. Mum's sandwiches were always the same
I did not mind.
Quickly realizing, that today was going to 'one of those days', I put the sandwich back in the box and started reading.
I was alternating between reading a textbook and this fantasy book when a girl approached me. She wore jeans with holes in the knee area and a black tank top under a grey hoodie.
"Is it okay if I sit here?" she asked with a radiant smile on her face.
I kept my head down and gave her a stuttery nod. The situation was awkward and my body language seemed to startle her a bit.
I felt like an idiot.
She sat down and I assumed that this girl goes to my school.
Trying my hardest not to look at her, I focused intently on the book. Unfortunately, reading about the intrigue of fictional royalty becomes difficult with a stranger nearby. It was tough to breathe even, and soon found myself having to do it manually. I did notice her glancing over to my lunch-box every now and then.
After a few minutes of this, she suddenly perked up and said:
"I will blow you if you take me out to dinner and buy me a meal."
'I was taken aback' would be selling it short, dear reader. I gathered myself for a moment and, with a nervous tone in my voice, proceeded to bumble and stutter as I tried to find the right words.
"N-no, there's no n-"
Her head and shoulders dropped as she rushed to leave. I understood my mistake right away.
"But... I do have this sandwich. I'm not really hungry so you can have it." I uttered, with a tone of desperation in my voice.
She hesitated, perhaps to swallow her pride, and sat down again. I handed her the box.
"Thanks," she said.
She took modest bites, but it was obvious that she had the hunger and desire to swallow it whole.
"This is really good," she said with a mouthful.
Thanks, my mother made it," I replied
"Tell your mother she makes great sandwiches." she said with a smile, having finished her last bite. I noticed she smiled with her eyebrows raised and eyes closed, as if to protect her eyes from sunlight.
I wondered what she would look like, smiling, with the sun actually shining on her. It was a nice thought.
My reverie was interrupted by her waving her hand in my face. I had drifted away again. I do that sometimes.
She broke the silence and we talked for a while. I found out her name is Ashley, and that she does go to the same school as I. After a couple of minutes of this, we both had to go so we split up.
The next day, we met up again. I gave her my sandwich and we talked. Then we did the same the day after, and the day after.
And so on.
Now, here we are at the entrance of her flat, by her request, and I haven't felt this happy in months, years... decades.
She glanced at me and gave one of her shy smiles that showed her white teeth. Her eyes matched her brown hair, which was in a pixie cut.
I have always preferred girls to have long hair like my mother, but I thought she looked pretty nevertheless.
She opened the door and it made a sudden, heavy noise. None of the doors in my house croaked like so. My father made sure of it with some nagging assistance from my mother, of course.
"Come on," she said.
Ashley grabbed my wrist and lightly pulled me into her apartment.
"What do you think?" she asked excitedly.
Her cheerful tone complimented her bubbly nature.
TO BE CONTINUED AND WHATNOT
I'm just a normal functioning member of the human race and there's no way anyone can prove otherwise.